samuelwrites7stories

[samuelwrites7stories]

"Far Be It From a Little Cabin"

--A (first draft) Short Story

Out in the dark forest, way beyond where the people could dare to venture, laid a little cabin. In it lived a little husband, a little wife, and a little cat named Alfred. The three lived harmoniously, not once did they fight or were unfair to the other merely felt peace with each other's company.

The little husband's daily work entailed as such: Find an elderly or sickly tree to chop down and use in the fireplace, pick up some potatoes and vegetables for dinner, and help out with any chores around the home.

The little wife's daily work led a little differently each day, as she wasn't always a little wife, some days she would turn into an every day animals like a horse or a mouse, and other days she would wake up as a magical being or beast. She still did her part but every time she sneezed she would transform into a new animal until someone said "bless you". Despite this she cooked the dinners, explored the woods for seasonal mushrooms and berries, and read the same books as she had done for almost 10 years now.

How the little wife came about this predicament is a story like many fairytales before, but she was still grateful to it as she found her little husband because of it...

Way back when the little wife was yet to be married she was on her way into town and ended up walking just ahead of an old lady along the dirt path. The old lady sneezed and the little woman made a quiet groan in distaste, when the old lady asked why she said nothing the little woman replied;

"You're the town's witch, you're not human like the rest of us, and no one ever goes around blessing cows or dragons when they sneeze. So why should I bless your soul?"

The old lady didn't take too kindly to being likened to the value of a farm animal and mythical beast, and so whispered a spell under her breath. Sadly the little woman never knew of the curse until the moment she sneezed, in the middle of the town's square whilst smelling the chilli peppers being sold.

The little woman grew to a 10ft tall dragon with purple scales, scaring off everyone around. She had nowhere to hide and so managed to fly into a forest far far away to hide amongst the trees. And there she laid, behind a large rock, on top of some blueberry bushes, crying so much her tears formed a small river that made its way through the forest.

At the other end of the forest a tittle man in worn-down clothes sat on a stump, happily widdling away at the statue of the woman he was determined to marry one day. When he saw the small river running by him his curiosity took over and he knew he needed to follow it. He called out for his brother as he begun walking upstream.

There, laying by a big rock, was a large purple dragon in all its glory.

"Hello there," the little man said and approached the dragon. The river from her eyes stopped as she noticed the little man, "I see you've found yourself in a difficult situation here."

"I don't know what's wrong with me, I'm not supposed to be this thing. I promise you, I'm a real woman!" The dragon spoke at last, and the little man luckily understood her.

"Don't you worry, madam, I believe you. I'm the son a witch that used to live a far bit into the forest, perhaps I can help?" The little man said and offered up his handkerchief, "why don't you tell me what happened?"

And so the dragon told him, and when she was done he gave a little laugh before sweetly saying, "bless you, my dear." And as it was the dragon turned back into a little woman.

"How did you know that would help?" The little woman asked and saw a grey cat come up behind him.

"This is my brother Alfred. When we were boys he accidentally put the same spell on himself, only a young boy's magic is not as reliable as an old lady's. So he can never be helped. Not that I think he's complaining as he can lay around sleeping all day while I do all the work..." The little man saw the cat dig into his pocket to find the wooden statue, and it struck the little man that this little woman looked just like it. Walking up to the little woman the cat smelled her torn clothes and sneezed a couple of times.

"Bless you, Alfred." The little man and woman said together.

Polly Florence

[samuelwrites7stories]

"The House That Never Became a Home"

--A Short Story

The house stood lonely on a hill and only the most daring animals came close enough to see the facade falling apart with age. It stood there abandoned, hollow, and forgotten about. Yet nature had done such a good job preserving its frame that the foster children who could see it from the old dirt road would imagine the most beautiful stories of its glory days. Everything from a perfect family spending their Sundays going on picnics in the wildflower fields, to a couple of gifted artists living out their final days alone on the countryside and whose paintings are hanging anonymously in wealthy homes all around the world.

Each child that ventured far enough on the dirt road to see this beautifully lost house had their own version of its story. The one thing they all agreed upon, however, was to never stray off the road and go closer, just in case they would discover that their version was the wrong one.

And sure a chimney was once letting out smoke, the windows were once spilling out candle light onto the ground outside, and the smell of cooking could once be sensed for miles. But the house was never once a home to anybody, it was merely just a house. It had four walls, a roof, a floor, some windows, and a door. It had no history to unveil and no wisdom to share.

It was never a home because even though it stood there now so beautifully alone amongst the wildflowers and grasshoppers, within its existence it had only ever been the house of one family. The father being the one to build it for his late wife and two sons. But before they could all move in the sons had grown up and moved away, and the first morning he and his wife spent alone in the house he found her hanging from the ceiling by a washing line. He was left all alone in that house for years, up until he met his second wife. She was much younger and so, though his late age, provided him with another son which she thought could help heal his heart.

Not five years later his two adult sons finally came home only to discover the gruesome scene of him, his wife, and their five year old son laying dead in the master bedroom. Looking as though they went to bed and never woke up. The two remaining sons found money and a goodbye letter stashed away in a jar by the wife, she was going to flee with their son to escape the abuse her husband put them through.

See back when people still lived in the house the ground around them was muddy and dark, the cooking was only done to the husband's liking, and the candle light shining from the windows and chimney letting out smoke were because the electricity was said to be too expensive. No one considered it a home because not even the man who built it could love it.

Whether the deaths committed in this house were voluntary or not, whether the husband's abuse towards his second wife and son could have been explained away or not, the fact remained; the house was better left alone. Admired from afar by younglings and forest animals.

Having its wounds made by the tragic deaths healed by nature's beauty.

Abandoned House At Dusk, Perce, Gaspesie, Quebec

[samuelwrites7stories]

"HEART OF THE MURKY FOREST"

- A (first draft) short story

The forest normally brought her great comfort, a sense of belonging. Yet this one was... odd. The greenery was more vivid here, the trees and rocks more slippery, and the early morning dew still lingered in the air like unspoken words at a funeral. But she couldn't stop to admire, or even to tend to the bleeding scratch on her leg she'd obtained slipping on one of the rocks earlier, she just needed to keep going. Before the riders caught up with her.

Without noticing she ran over a patch of moss that gave way and swallowed her up. Turns out it was a thinly veiled blanket over a surprisingly deep body of water. The forest wanted her dead, it felt like, so if it hadn't been for the bag getting caught on a branch the forest would've happily consumed her.

When her head went under the moss and into the grimy water, for a split second she swore she heard singing; a beautiful voice calling out to her, telling her to dive deeper, stop the running. But could she? She hadn't heard the riders since she entered the woods and she knew that soon the sun would go up and the forest would return to its safe kingdom, so it appeared that for the moment she was safe. She merely hoped she wouldn't wound up lost in these woods like her brother...

Regarding her brother, she was only a young girl when he left. Their mother, however, would tell her stories about how he seemingly went mad, insisting that he would to find a heart and live forever and then one evening he snuck away to enter the Murky Forest. He'd been the first victim of the forest's dark magic, followed by dozens of people who ventured out at night. It came to a point that even the king stopped his own men from entering the forest during the dark hours.

After a moment she pulled herself out and found herself on the other side of the moss. With the moss quickly closing up as if it had never been disturbed at all. Given just a moment to relax on dry land she started hearing the riders, closer than they'd ever been. She looked up and the dawn had still not come, the riders were disobeying their king by coming in here before it was safe.

A vine wrapped around her leg, so tightly that she felt her toes go numb. It wasn't budging and she had nothing to cut her lose with. She heard the riders closing in on her and all she could do was await their attack.

There they stood. five men on five black horses, all staring down at her across the moss. Their faces cold and pale, the horses trampling the ground below them. Alliard, the man at the forefront of the group, pulled off his helmet and handed it to one of the men before dismounting his horse. He pulled out his sword to poke holes in the moss, feeling for where the ground was still solid. Alliard was one of the few who were used to the Murky Forest's hidden traps and so knew exactly why she was soaking wet.

"Perhaps the forest knows what you deserve, mon cher," Alliard said and gave a sadistic smile. He worked his way around the moss until he was close enough for her to notice the ritualistic scars on his arms. "Perhaps...-"

But he didn't get to finish his sentence as behind him two of his men who had also dismounted were pulled into the moss by roots of the nearby trees, the other two still on their horses begun screaming like they were of fire as black fog took them hostage and eventually disappeared with the riders into thin air. Alliard didn't have a second to react before a branch speared his chest from the back and had him fall into the moss as well, never to be seen again.

She couldn't comprehend the moment. In the span of seconds five riders and two horses were gone. The three remaining horses neighed loudly and galloped back the same way they came from. She looked down at her leg and the vine opened up to let her go, but the vine had turned into fingers. Human fingers. Behind the rock she found herself on her brother hid, he hadn't died or been led astray by the forest. He was alive and a part of it, no time had passed on his face as if the forest preserved him perfectly in time. Her mind was spinning in circles, no words came out, so her brother broke the deafening silence;

"I told you I would find the heart of the Murky Forest."

Woodlands at Dartmoor National Park, Devon (@matt_beach_photography IG)