Forest Evergreen
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Stories (2)
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creeping in
Wet earth sunk beneath my sneakers as I sprinted through the forest back to my home. Slithering through the trees not far behind me was an eerie shadow, it wasn’t the first time it had appeared, but this time it was noticeable. Flowers wilted, water froze, and light disappeared as the black fog slid across the ground; increasing its speed quickly. My heart raced as I tried to move faster towards the sunlit gravel walkway just yards away. The air felt colder behind me, my heart skipped a beat as darkness fell over me; with a jolt my mind told my legs to leap. Rocks dug into my skin as I landed on the path, relief rushed through my veins as the sunlight danced across my skin. Lingering among the trees was a sinister figure, almost upset or discomforted; deciding whether or not to emerge into the daylight. The loud heartbeat thumping in my ears faded as I limped across the lawn and up the stone steps leading to the large red-oak doors of my home. The wood creaked open as I turned the knob and collapsed onto the stone floor. All the energy had left my body and a deep gloom came over me.
By Forest Evergreen4 years ago in Fiction
The Journal
Your hands ran across the sturdy wooden shelves of your local bookshop as you wandered down the aisles. You’d been searching for a book to fill the hole in your heart left by the last one you had devoured in one sitting. As the shelves ran out of possible books and you neared the darkest corner of the shop, your fingers slipped over a dilapidated little black book. The worn exterior caught your attention, having felt so many smooth titled spines throughout the selection. All of your attention homed in on reading the cover of this small book. But no title was to be seen on its cover, spine, or back. Interest peaked at the tip of your nose as you flipped open to what should be home to a title page. There on the first page, perfect swirls of the letters M.A.P. rested beneath the words “This Book Belongs To”. Your brain ran through its traffic of thoughts in attempt to figure out what type of book would belong to someone. As guilt quickly pops in, you close the journal and hesitate for a moment with it still resting in your hands. You look for a barcode and hope to discover a price; something to indicate that it is safe for you to read. As you turned it over your eyes fell upon the edges of the book, where “Read Me” was sprawled into the fore edges. With curiosity holding you by your tongue, you traipse up to the register to leave your decision in the hands of the shopkeeper. The old man had been peering out the window at the grey clouds in the sky when you pulled him from his ponderings. You gently set the little black book on the counter and asked if he knew the price. He shook his head and said it must have been a book someone left behind. He offered that you could keep it, though he didn’t understand why you would want to. So, with a goodbye, you left the bookshop with your eyes intent on discovering the owner of the forgotten journal.
By Forest Evergreen5 years ago in Humans
