Forest of Forget

Once a man went into the forest; amongst the trees and moss he wandered searching for something he had lost.

However, after searching so long, he had forgotten what it was that he had lost, so he made the dense wood his home, awaiting the day he remembered what it was he had never found.

It was a comfortable life, within the forest where he was surrounded by the creatures and natural beauty that dwelt in the woods side by side with him.

He had made his house in the massive trunk of an ancient tree that reached up and out of the canopy to overlook the green sea of the forest.

It was only in the early light of the morning that he sometimes had a faint recollection that he had come in search of something. Then, as the sun’s light grew, the thought faded like a distant dream and he was content again in his wooded home.

Content, until the day a young woman came tumbling out of the trees and out into the clearing around his tree-trunk home. Behind her the crashing of trees being trampled and a shaking roar followed.

The woman ran frantically up to him where he stood beside his little garden and coward behind his back like a scared little child.

A great, brown bear smashed through the trees into the clearing and charged toward them.

The man stood his ground and the bear slowed to stand on its hind legs, towering over them.

With a deafening roar the bear loomed at the man and the cowering woman, but the man did not budge. He only stared at the big beast and nodded slowly.

The bear calmed and went back down on all fours. With a sniff it turned itself around and headed back through the thicket of broken trees at a lazy lumber.

Once the bear was out of sight and its grumbling grunts were only a faint sound, the man turned to the young woman to ask what she had done to provoke his friend the bear, yet when he saw her face, he saw the reason he had come into the wood.

How long had it been; how had he forgotten; forgotten the face that now looked up at him with the same realization upon her face.

They had both come into the woods to look for what was lost, only to lose themselves, as do any that enter the Forest of Forget.

As a child she had come after her beloved dog, who had chased a rabbit deep within the wood, and as a younger man, he had chased her; his young daughter.

They looked into each other’s eyes and remembered; for that was the Forest’s secret.

Those who entered alone would forget their lives outside the forest and become content, forever inside the calming wood. But those who came in with another never forgot and left as they came, together.

And so, hand in hand, father and daughter laughed and cried, and walked out of the woods to return to the home they had forgotten, together.

Storm of Revolution

Running up the rocky slope, Richard thought to himself of what he would say once he reached the top.

They had all gathered; from the far reaches of the world, coming in legions, to hear what he would say.

Though the truth was, he had no idea what he would say. Everything up until now had just come to him like a voice inside his head that was not his own.

It spoke through him, and it had made sense; to himself as well as all that had heard him, from that very first speech in that dark and wet alley.

His words had spread across the land and they had started to gather; had started to build a force that could wash over any that stood in their way.

As he raced up to the summit of the craggy cliffs, his mind went over all the events that had led him here. The victories and losses, the allies he had gained, and the loved ones he had lost all came flooding back to him.

But those were the costs of revolution. Even the loss of his left eye seemed worth it, if it meant they reached their eventual goal.

When he finally reached the top of the mountain, he looked down at the multitude that spread out below, awaiting him with anticipation and furfur; ancient blood feuds and turf wars forgotten in their common goal. They all stood as comrades.

All hushed as he padded up to the edge and his unpatched eye scanned over them.

In that moment, he knew what had to be said. No voice needed to tell him now.

So proudly, in a voice that carried an echoing boom like thunder, Richard the cat simply said, “Meow.”

And the cat armies of the world below meowed in unified response.

The storm of revolution had begun.

London Fog

Henry did not like the look of the fog that rolled over the dewy grass hills of the city’s large park. It moved amongst the trees purposefully; against the night’s breeze, covering them in mists that seemed to swallow them up into oblivion.

This could not be true of course, he knew that the trees were still there, standing as they ever had been, however, for some dark reason he felt the fog had consumed them, along with the rest of the landscape.

The fog continued to roll itself out onto the cobblestones of the street that bordered the park, coming straight towards where he stood underneath the flickering flame of the streetlamp, smoking his nightly pipe.

A carriage bustled along the road as the fog enveloped it. The clip clop of the horse’s hooves and clatter of the wheels on the street stones became muffled, then silent; as if they had disappeared not just from sight, but vanished entirely.

Henry bit down on his pipe and turned on his heel to walk briskly away from the oncoming cloud of mist that had grown to block out everything it touched; blocked out or devoured.

Looking over his shoulder, Henry saw the looming fog eat up the brick buildings that lined the street. Not watching where he was going, he bumped into the shoulder of someone, knocking the pipe from his mouth down to the sidewalk.

George Grafton was the portly, older gentleman who lived a few homes down from Henry and his family. Begging his pardon and barely hearing the elderly man’s inquiries as to where he was off to in such a hurry, Henry only touched the brim of his hat as he turned to see the fog moving closer.

Continuing to hurry away, he heard a few of George’s upset remarks at his rudeness before the old man was silenced by the fog. Henry looked back and saw that George was gone, lost to the fog that threatened to take him as well.

By the time he turned the corner to the street on which his house stood, he was at a full run to try and stay ahead of the sinister mist. Everything behind was gone, but he did not turn to look anymore, he only wanted to make it home.

Reaching the steps to his townhouse he let go of his hat and let it fly off his head to disappear into the foggy depths. He pounded his gloved fists on the thick wooden door for his Emily to unlock the door and let him in.

He dared one more look over his shoulder only to see the dark shadow of the fog moving in around him. His shout for his wife muffled and then was silenced completely.

Emily opened the door to let her husband in before he busted in down, but only the chilled night air came in, causing her to shiver and pull her schal higher around her shoulders.

She stepped out onto the front stoop and looked up and down the lamp-lit street; Henry was nowhere in sight.

schal

What fool game was he playing at this time? She thought to herself grumpily. Down the street a fog was rolling away, leaving wispy trails in its wake.

Sniffing in annoyance, Emily turned back to go inside and closed the door.

A figure stepped out of the fog as it moved away, silhouetted from the lamp light under which they stood. The figure wore Henry’s close, but from underneath the brim of Henry’s top hat, dark foggy eyes look out as they lit Henry’s pipe and began to stroll; moving purposefully towards Henry’s beautiful brick townhouse. Their new home. 

Empty Woods

Golden light shimmered from underneath the surface of the water; the shape of the object distorted by the lapping of the little waves that hit the grass and dirt edge of the stream before bouncing back out.

Antony knelt beside the stream to peer down at the thing that lay on the mucky bottom, its golden glow reflecting on his face. Still distorted, he thought it liked like a face, with hollow eyes and mouth.

Hesitantly, he reached down, dipping his hand into the cool spring waters and touched the object’s smooth surface. His fingers slipped underneath its edges as he lifted it out of the mud with a sucking plop sound.

It was a mask, a golden mask of a man’s face that seemed to glower at him with its open eye and mouth holes. Droplets of water fell from the shining surface of the mask and glistened in the afternoon sun that shone through the over-hanging trees.

Antony turned it over in his hands and looked at the darker underside. Not a gleaming gold, but perhaps a cracked and worn iron reverse of the outer facade, its eyes and mouth still scowling.

With the mask in both hands Antony brought it up to his face, briefly closing his eyes as the mask touched his skin with cold wet.

He opened them to look out from the carved openings, half expecting a change in what he saw, but it was still only the shallow stream running through the sunlit woods; nothing wondrous.

He turned his head as he took the mask away from his face, but out of the corner of his vision he saw a figure standing opposite himself across the stream.

Quickly, he hid it behind his back, embarrassed at being caught alone in the middle of the woods, trying on a golden mask. Yet, when the mask was off, the person was gone.

Antony scanned the trail and area but there was no one, nor even a hint that anyone had been there. The trees rustled gently in the soft breeze, the water babbled quietly, and the birds chirped away happily, but all else was calm and undisturbed.

Turning his attention back to the mask held in his hand, he brought it up again, meaning to try and look at himself in the waters’ reflection. Yet, when he looked through its eyes once more, the figure stood across from him.

The other man held the same golden mask to his face; he even seemed to be wearing a similar outfit to Antony’s.

Antony took the mask away to say hello, but was startled when the other disappeared from sight.

Warily, he looked through the mask again and the person stood staring back through his own mask on his side of the stream, and Antony could see that the other was holding the mask in the same way, just bringing it back up as if he had pulled it away quickly as well.

This time they kept holding their masks up and inspected each other.

Antony now saw that the other’s clothes were not just similar his own, they were the exact same.

He tilted his head, trying to think of something to say, and the other tilted his head the same way.

This was getting too creepy for Antony, so he ventured a hello. It only echoed within his mask.

Did the other say hello too, or was it just his own reverberated greeting?

Antony lifted his free hand to wave and so did the other man, aping his movements exactly.

Putting down his hand down slowly, as did the other, Antony asked if these were both their masks, and again, nothing but a muffled echo.

He took the mask slowly away to look over its top, but once more, his double disappeared from sight so he looked back through the mask. The other seemed to have just done the same.

Moving forward a step, Antony watched as the other took the same step.

He put his mask down and was alone again.

Thinking for a moment, Antony looked down the stream for a way to cross over. There were a few bigger rocks protruding out of the water so he moved over to the nearest one and hopped carefully from one to the other until he leapt to the opposite side from where he had been standing.

Facing where he had been, Antony donned the mask and looked through its eyes again.

Nothing; the other was not there. He brought the mask down with a sigh.

He shifted his gaze down at the water and he saw another distorted reflection standing beside his.

Looking quickly to his side where the reflected other should have been he saw nothing.

Antony narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips in annoyance. Then, slowly, he brought the mask up to his face.

When he looked through the oblong openings, his eyes widened with terror. The other stood staring face to face, without the mask.

Antony screamed and dropped the mask.

It fell back into the bubbling waters of the stream with a small splash that was drowned out by Antony’s screams of horror and pain.

Soon the screams were just an echo that no one heard, deep in the empty wood.

The Right Eye

There is a light that can be seen,
Only by the eye on the right.
It hides from the left,
And does not shine as bright.

The Right eye knows it is there,
Yet it keeps its existence a secret.
Not to be malicious or mean,
But because the Left and the Right have never met.

Though they have seen each other in reflections and pictures,
Their introduction has never been official, proper or right.
So the Right keeps its secret light to itself.
And the Left, won’t tell the Right of its own, secret light. 

Tiny Bear

A tiny bear walked into the antiques shop and the bell above the door jingled.

How it found its way to the shop, Howard could not fathom, it was hard for most people to locate it, let alone a foot tall brown bear.

The bear padded further into the cluttered store as Howard lost sight of it behind a shelf of old tin advertising signs. He tried to crane his neck to see over the shelf from where he stood behind the counter but could not manage.

“Hello?” he ventured. “Can I help you?” he added, genuinely curious if he could.

The bear came around the front of the shelves and took off its little black hat; put its paw inside of it to pull out a glinting object that would fit in the palm of a regular sized person’s hand.

It held the curved object up so Howard could see. It looked like half of a sphere, silver on the outside with floral patterns engraved all over the surface.

The inside seemed a clockwork of gears and cogs.

Strangely, he had seen the object before; or at least its twin.

Howard nodded to the small bear and went to a shelf in the middle of the shop. Amongst the knick knacks that lay here and there on the glass shelf was an identical half sphere with the intricate engravings of flowery vines covering its silver shell and the fine workings of gears filling its inside.

It had been in the shop since before he had taken it over and was one of the few items he had failed to either sell or discard.

As he reached for it, he almost thought he heard a tinkle of metal chimes, just faint enough to dismiss as a trick of the ear.

He turned to find the pint sized bear standing only a few paces away, holding its half sphere up in one paw with the other paw open, eagerly inviting Howard to hand his over.

With little hesitation, he found himself placing the other half gently into the bear’s little paw.

Its dark, bead-like eyes glistened with the silver reflection as it brought the two halves up closer to its fuzzy muzzle.

As the two halves came closer together, their innards began to whirl and spin on their own accord.

The air around the two pieces began to waver as well. At first just around their surfaces’, but as the bear moved its paws closer and closer together, bringing the open insides nearer to one another, the wavering grew.

The air shook so it distorted the area around the bear’s light brown paws, spreading all around its arms and torso.

Finally, as the small bear seemed to struggle to push the two halves together, the wavering and shaking of the air around it suddenly stopped and they sealed together in a perfect sphere.
A silence preceded a booming wave of sound that reverberated out from the now whole sphere and hit Howard in the chest with a thump. He stumbled backwards and the back of his legs hit against a trunk that sat on the ground behind where he stood, knocking him down to sit atop the chest’s flat lid.

The shelves of antiques shook and most of the trinkets toppled over, some crashing to the ground around their feet.

Howard’s attention moved from the bear to the shelves and back again to see that the sphere rotated slowly a hand's width above the bear's outstretched paws.

An aura shimmered around the tiny bear that enlarged slowly until Howard realized it was an opening to a bright forest with lush trees that rustled in a soft breeze that blew through into the stuffy shop.

Slowly the small bear turned to face the opening that was now big enough for it to walk through. Over its shoulder, Howard saw other tiny bears coming out amongst the trees. Brown, black, white, red, and every shade of fur; they all came out, hesitantly at first, but when they saw their fellow bear in the doorway, they bound out on all fours toward him happily.

Howard moved down to his hands and knees on the floor to look closer into the portal letting the other bears see him behind their friend and they slowed to a stop.

The tiny brown bear turned back to him and nodded with smiling eyes and walked through the shimmering opening.

Before the bears met each other on the grassy meadow, the portal began to shrink until it closed in on itself and Howard only saw the old carpet that lined the shop’s floor.

He sat back on his haunches for a while, staring in silence at the spot where the bear had crossed over into another realm, and then cocked his head with a thought.

Hoisting himself up with his hand on the trunk, he went hurriedly over to another shelf in the back corner of the store where everything still remained undisturbed by the shockwave.
Scanning quickly over the items that covered the shelves he stopped at a small half of a brass cube.

He picked the object up and turned it over looked at the gears that filled its insides. As he examined the intricate workings, a metallic tinkling echoed in his ear just before the bell above the door jingled and someone else came in.

Icy Shores

Cold winds blow across the frigid waters as the white caps of the waves crest and fall back down into the next.
On the desolate shore, a fur-clad figure stands facing the vast open waters before them. Frost collects on the brim of their hood as their breath steams out from underneath the hood’s cover into the freezing, wet air.
Their goal of the far shore cannot be seen across the wide body of mercilessly cold, but cross they must; to find what they seek; to find what they have lost.
Taking off their sturdy leather gloves, they raise their bare hands out, palms facing the water. White light begins to glow from within each hand and become as bright as the white sun shining in the pale blue sky. Struggling to keep them steady, they hold their arms out as the waters far off the shore begin to churn violently.
Waves crash into each other and swirl into eddies as a dark shadow appears under the surface, and quickly grows larger.
Erupting from below a massive head of a man lifts out of the churning waters. A giant of solid ice heaves its great shoulders up and out into the air as the rest of its body lumbers up and moves toward the small figure on shore. It seems to walk on the seabed far below as it nears the shore.
The ground shakes as the giant ice man stomps its massive foot down a short distance from the figure standing on the barren shoreline; a small child in comparison to the goliath before them.
As it reaches the waters’ edge, the ice giant kneels down and slowly extends a massive hand, palm face up, down to its master.
Keeping their brightly glowing hands held out, they climb easily onto the icy palm, which is then raise high up into the air as the giant stands and turns back to the vast sea. Holding its passenger out in its hand at chest level, it begins to stride out across the water, stepping upon the surface with freezing footfalls.
As they move out across the water, the chilling wind pushes back the tiny figure’s furry hood and the long, dark hair and soft cheek of a severe, yet beautiful woman are exposed. Her dark eyes concentrate on the unseen shore of the other side, but a tiny smile touches her red lips. Soon she will reach her goal; soon she will find what she has lost.