Thursday, June 30, 2011

The First Girl

There were officially 5 ways to get into the forest, 10 more unofficial ways, and only two exits anyone had ever been spotted coming out of. As a young girl, she herself was expected to take the easiest way, so that's where they led her, and that's what she took. Because why wouldn't you take the easiest way? They were all headed into the same place, why get yourself all tired and worn out before the story even started? This isn't a metaphor. Nobody is going to learn anything, or become a better person here.

So after a while, her escorts dropped off, and she found herself walking alone in the new part of the forest. All the trees here were young, less than 100 years old, and the ground was covered with soft grass, bushes and flowers. It was pretty out, sunny but not hot. She leaned over to notice in particular these tiny yellow buds, they smelled sweet like vermouth. The girl gathered them in handfuls and stuffed them in her pockets, because this was back when people still picked flowers. Also when people had room in their pockets.

An hour later she was fast passed out against one of the larger tree trunks, on the edge of the center, the forest primeval. You should never just pick flowers without knowing what they are. Okay, so maybe there's one lesson today. Don't pick flowers. You will end up vulnerable and weak, flopped like a rag doll and all alone, while inside the dark shadows of the trees there is a rustling and the Spider King is coming to take you away.

If you have a minute, pop on over here and write me in for best local blog, so if I win I have something to put on my grant applications :) Thanks! Voting ends tomorrow.


  1. This is a great start to a short story... I know that there is more to this story and it is something and I would like to read ...

    btw, cute profile pic... like the know-it-all smile...

  2. Wait, have you been reading my notebooks?

  3. Wait, have you been reading Every Fairy Tale Ever?

  4. After flattery - plagiarism is the highest form of flattery.

  5. We've just spent too much time together. We're all synchronized on villains.


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