This one was a chance to let my morbid show. So I did. Thought up a plot, a story, some characters that wanted to have an adventure, and killed them off at the very beginning before their story could even get started. Is it really my fault, though? They wandered where they shouldn't, and had been warned of the woods.
For a list of the writing prompts I share, please see my Writing Prompt page :)
The Circle of Life
(550 Words)
Leaves rustled lightly in the breeze, whispering secrets of pain, betrayal, and tormented seeds of life that would never sprout, branches cut off before their time. The murmurs began with young saplings who sat in dappled light around a spacious clearing where only the wildest of grasses and petulant weeds dared grow.
There were people in that clearing. They had entered a happy trio, joking and teasing one another about the rumors of the spooky forest people normally avoided on their way to Marrowdale for supplies. Cutting through was so much faster. They had walked with the energy of youth, their empty packs bouncing lightly in the spring air, filled with hope and purpose.
They were not joking now. The youngest had just turned and thrown a punch at the yellow-haired leader.
The ground trembled lightly as the contention flared. The grasses leaned in to catch the spray of blood droplets that flew from the impact.
“Stop!” Shouted the young woman, who threw back the hood of her cloak, revealing her clear young face and troubled eyes.
The young men ignored her, caught up in the heat of their emotions. Jealousy flared like a bonfire, and the grasses and weeds opened their leaves to bask in it.
Feeling the intensity of their emotions, she began readying a spell of peace. Her bright eyes flashed as she mumbled the words of her cast, holding a pendant high to catch the sun. A vine curled around her boot, thorns pricking in. Her words began to change, the spell twisted slightly with disdain for the would-be suitors.
Terror and regret crossed her face as the spell flew from her fingertips. It wasn’t what she had been taught for healing or calming. It wasn’t anything she was familiar with. But it had been loosed, and she could not call it back.
The spell hit the young men, and the earth responded, amplifying the concussive boom throughout the clearing. The shockwave rebounded outward, carrying emotions and droplets of blood to the outer circle of wildflowers and grasses. The young woman was now a crumpled heap, empty of life and dreams.
The yellow-haired boy was lying in the middle of the clearing at wrong angles. His eyes a glassy stare at the hollow husk of his pack.
The younger of the two boys was dazed, but still moving. Confused. He crawled over toward the crumpled form of the girl. “Elise? Help?” He croaked out as he crawled, knowing she was the only one who could save him now. He was broken on the inside, he could feel it.
Why had he hit his brother? Why had the ground erupted and thrown them to the ground? Why was he bleeding? So much? He collapsed down to the ground, feeling the warm earth on his face and tasting the bitter iron fluid in his mouth. So tired. Perhaps he’d just sleep for a while.
The leaves whispered and insects hummed and buzzed. The forest, twisted and tainted by the loss of life, drank it in thirstily from the clearing. It was not the first time life had ended abruptly and cruelly in that circle. It would not be the last.
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