On my Youtube channel, I posted a writing exercise called The Forest. You can check it out here if you want to spend 15 minutes writing today. If you want my short story based on the prompt, read below.
The bag was empty.
I wasn’t sure if I was more upset about losing the most precious stone of the kingdom – the royal jewel passed down six generations of sleezy, worthless kings and queens who had done nothing for their country but burn it to the ground with poverty, lies, and godlessness – or if I was more upset about losing my sandwich.
I fiddled with the giant hole in the bottom of my bag.
“Such poor quality,” I complained under my breath. “If you can’t trust the black market for better quality goods, who can you trust?”
It was a tough decision on whether to look for the sandwich or the jewel first. I eventually decided on the jewel, not because it had more monetary value, but mostly because would have been easier to find in the moonlight. It had actually been harder to steal the sandwich than it had been to steal the royal jewel, but nevertheless, the jewel was a higher priority.
My stomach clenched, disagreeing.
Cursing in my mother’s tongue with words my mother would definitely not approve of, I set out to look for the jewel hiding now somewhere in the night forest. The stench of the soil was strong, the weeds and grass nipping at my feet through the holes in my shoes. The wind chill was warning of the winter that was coming, and my stomach clenched even harder at the thought of another winter in the woods, trying my best not to freeze to death. I had already done that twice. I refused to let winter pass a third time.
That jewel was going to get me out of this horrible country if it was the last thing I did. And if they hung me for my crimes, at least it would have been better than living in a country abandoned by the gods, since the kings and queens of the court had put themselves higher than the heavens.
And we couldn’t even ask the gods for mercy because we had depleted them of their entire supply.
Eh. But those were just the thoughts of an excommunicated pastor who now stole sandwiches and royal jewels. My thoughts had been meaningless to the public for years.
The forest thinned and thickened as I retraced my steps, looking for flickers and reflections of the jewel on the forest floor. Or the sandwich. I was still keeping my hope up for it, after all. The air shifted cooler and cooler, indicating time as it passed, the moon slowly trekking across the sky. Had I really been walking that long? Maybe the adrenaline from dodging so many officers and guards had given me extra energy. But as the moon arched along the stars, that energy steadily dropped to my ankles, leaving the rest of my body drained.
I stopped, sitting on the rough ground, crossing my legs and looking around. I huffed.
I suppose I can’t come to you for this? I prayed. Seems quite foolish. If you can’t help with the jewel, can I at least ask for sustenance? If you’re willing, open my eyes. Help me find what I need.
The forest made no reply, silent; just a bit of wind in the leaves. It would have been peaceful if I had been there by choice and not because I was homeless and isolated out of society.
I couldn’t even be angry. I had gotten what I deserved.
Then, there was a sliver of light on the forest floor. My chest tightened as I jumped up and rushed to it, reaching down into the darkness for an odd-shaped rock. It was cold. I turned it over in the moonlight, blues and whites flickering in my palm.
The jewel of the royal family.
I laughed in shock. I hadn’t even expected the sandwich, honestly.
I lifted the jewel to the moon in a toast. Following the light rays down through the leaves, I saw a strange new form at the roots of the trees. It was some sort of strange lump, high in the middle and very thin at the ends. A bear? No, they were big from top to bottom. Another animal? Nothing was that shape, really. Maybe it was another homeless wanderer?
He better not have stolen my sandwich.
I approached, slowly. I took a few steps at a time, stopping to let my eyes adjust. It would have been useless to go through the trouble of stealing a jewel (and a sandwich) only to get eaten by a bear moments later. But maybe that was okay too. It wasn’t like I had anyone waiting for me.
I crouched, the shape finally showing details.
A woman.
Her head was on her arm, eyes closed, breathing in a rhythm that indicated that she was fully asleep. It was hard to make out much else besides some dark hair and a long dress, but at the very least, at least it wasn’t a bear. What was a woman doing all the way out here, anyway? And just calmly sleeping? How incredibly odd.
I didn’t want to wake and scare her, but I also couldn’t just leave her either. Partly because my dead mother would haunt me if I was anything but chivalrous, and secondly, simple curiosity. So I lay next to her, looking up at the stars through the trees. Every once in awhile, there was the smell of rose in the air, a soft fragrance that I assumed was coming from her.
It was getting too cold to sleep, however, and she was going to wake up sooner or later. Then what? I brainstormed some possible scenarios, but all of them ended with her screaming and beating me with a stick.
Sure enough, she eventually rustled herself awake. I lay still, just staring at her. I had developed no other plan.
Her eyes opened. The moonlight picked up a flicker of blue in her eyes, her dark hair flowing down her shoulder as she turned her head. I waited for her to scream. She rustled more, stretching her limbs and opening her eyes a little wider before closing them again.
“You finally came back?” she asked.
I played the words over in my head to make sure I had heard them correctly. She still seemed asleep.
“Did I keep you waiting?” I asked.
There was a breathy giggle through her nose. “I was simply wondering when you were coming back. I had no one to talk to.”
There was nothing familiar about her. Her voice, her face, nothing. But she seemed to know me pretty well. Or something like me. Maybe she had been a member of the church? I was quite popular with women at one time. Before the church excommunicated me and the king nearly sentenced me to execution. That was a bad week.
If she had been there, however, she wasn’t a regular. I avoided enough temptation to remember.
“What was our last conversation about?” I asked.
There was a sigh and a pause. “You said you would come find me next time. Next to the stage. Did you bring the roasted corn?”
The ground gave way under me, the pit of my stomach being sucked down in the deepest, sharpest point of it. I sat up, my heart racing through every pressure point in my body.
It couldn’t be… She was dead.
My shaking hand opened of its own power, the blue gem in it glistening in the light to confirm my fear.
The blue of the royal family eyes.
The blue eyes of the illegitimate daughter of the king, the one I had abandoned at a festival to save my own family ten years ago.
BRAINSTORMED WORDS
Wood, birch, leaves, grass, pine, light, shadows, glint, fog, fade, deep, dark, reflect, sway, rustle, wind, chill, soil, dirt, stem, pierce, stand, echo, crouch, lay, green, emerald, yellow-green, root, white, needle, branch, hanging, dangle, whisper, chirp, fire, flicker, exit, hidden, lost, hiss, slither, penetrate, question, cower, dew, damp, faint, weary, faded
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