z

Young Writers Society


12+

The Forest by Frostburrow

by LanaOverland


I should have known by the gnarled roots of the trees that clawed at the dirt of the path, dragging it towards their skeletal frames plated in sliver bark. I should have known by that humming in the air, like something—some multitude of beings—swarming beneath ground, low in my ears as though I were being dragged down by the pressure of the sound. I should have known by the tightness in my chest as the air in this forest grew thin in the evening, like the sun was taking the atmosphere with it. I should have known that this was not a short cut.

Sure, a simple consult with my map proves that it was indeed a shorter distance through the forest than up the mountain path, but there is more than just distance to make path a long route. My arm, bandaged in pale cloth, itches with the evidence of what a long route means.

The snap of a branch behind me, pulls my hand to the hilt of my sword; my ear tilts upward, and every muscle in my body braces for the impact of some creature, but as I keep my way down the path, nothing comes of the sound. I’ve walked so far through the woods, far enough that I can no longer see the sign post at the entrance, but though my feet and my dry throat ache for break, I keep walking. Quite simply: I refuse to stop in the forest, and I’ve come too far to go back out.

The deeper the forest goes, the more the trees curl into each other, up past their trunks in some places. Their limbs clutch each other, grasping like gladiators in the heat of battle, wrestling each other to the ground, away from the sun. Few trees thrive here, though, there is virtually a wall of branches on either side of the road. The trees have few leaves and they’re short, only rising above my head when they’re perched on top of a pile of limbs. The trees don’t care to grow tall and healthy in the heart of the forest, they just care that the other’s live constantly on the cusp of death.

“This is not my first time,” I tell myself, but I’m ashamed to say that a tear rolled down my face as I thought it. “I am a capable woman. I can fight a monster if I have to.”

And then another version of my thoughts slipped in: “You barely fought off the last one.

“No, nonsense,” I corrected myself. “I am the Ambassador of the Crown. I cannot fail.”

“And yet,” that insolent part of me continues, “You will.”

The humming has become more intense and I find myself constantly holding the hilt of my sword because the sounds are muffled under the throbbing of magic in the air. I can no longer tell which sounds are important enough to pay attention to, so I’m forced to take head of all of them until I can’t hear anything but the throbbing. The dry smell of the dirt, the tightness in my chest, the salty taste of my saliva, and even the feeling of impact as my legs hit the ground, all of these feelings are expelled by the insistence of the sound. The light of my torch dims, so much so that I have to put my hand into the flames to tell if it’s still lit.

But it’s not lit—or I can’t feel it burning me. Is my hand even in the fire? Am I still holding it at all?

I keep walking, not able to tell if I am still moving.

My limbs drag across something, the first thing I’ve been able to feel in who knows how long, and I grip it tightly. There is no sense to my limbs anymore, muscles I don’t remember move in directions that seem to go beyond the scope of my body, but I can move them and I can wrap them so that I don’t have to feel that senselessness anymore. I grasp onto anything and everything to feel something grounding me.

I know—one tiny fraction of my mind refuses to cease its protests—that I must keep going, but my body, and whatever I have that can feel, clings to this beacon of sense that I have wrapped myself around.

“You cannot stay here,” that last bit of will gasps. “Your duty demands it of you.”

Yet still my grip tightens. The humming has returned; like a ceaseless storm it rises above the voice of my will. My limbs grow stiff as the wave crashes down over my thoughts, solidifying my grip on my chosen beacon.

“You must continue,” my will continues. In an instant, all noise stops and my eyes burst open. The senses erupt in agonizing detail. Immediately I feel every muscle retract back into my body, ripping away from where they had wound themselves and boring back into the shape of my proper body. My ears ring with the instantaneous release of pressure. Every sound, from the scraping of my limbs against the rocks, to the shaky gasps of my opening lungs, spit fire into my skull and shook every bone. Decaying foliage sent spots in my vision with the intensity of the musky earth. And what I saw? I saw my arms covered in sickly pale bark and the buds of leaves drawing back into my follicles.

“Keep moving,” was the first thought to return to me. I clawed at the earth, dragging a mess of branches that had become my legs across the path. I crawled until I had legs and then, when I got myself balanced, I ran. Feet pounding blood through my body, forcing breath from my lungs; pain tinging my vision red.

I ran until I saw the walls of trees disappear and I was left on a thin strip of dirt cutting through young soft grass. That is where my legs gave out. 


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123 Reviews


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Mon Jun 11, 2018 11:32 pm
Lord Anzius wrote a review...



I should have known by the gnarled roots of the trees that clawed at the dirt of the path, dragging it towards their skeletal frames plated in sliver bark #FF0000 ">Silver bark? . I should have known by that humming in the air, like something—some multitude of beings—swarming beneath ground, low in my ears as though I were #FF0000 ">Note when using "were", "were" can be used as a subjunctive of "to be", so if you want to know whether you need to use "were" or "was" try adding a "to be after the "were". In this case "were" should be "was" being dragged down by the pressure of the sound. I should have known by the tightness in my chest as the air in this forest grew thin in the evening, like the sun was taking the atmosphere with it. I should have known that this was not a shortcut. #FF0000 ">I don’t know if the repetition of I is for immersion, but it becomes a bit distracting after a while and that eats away at the immersion a bit. If it’s for artistic effect then ignore what I said or try to construct the sentences in a way that negates the need for the “I”. Like in my personal opinion the last sentence would’ve worked fine as only “This was no (not a) shortcut.”

The snap of a branch behind me, pulls my hand to the hilt of my sword; my ear tilts upward, and every muscle in my body braces for the impact of some creature, but as I keep my way down the path, nothing comes of the sound. I’ve walked so far through the woods, far enough that I can no longer see the sign post at the entrance, but though my feet and my dry throat ache for #FF0000 ">a break, I keep walking. Quite simply: I refuse to stop in the forest, and I’ve come too far to go #FF0000 ">this implies that it is possible to get out but she has come too far that he would be willing to leave, if you used “get” instead that would imply that he was unable to get out back out.

The deeper the forest goes, the more the trees curl into each other, up past their trunks in some places. Their limbs clutch each other, grasping like gladiators in the heat of battle, wrestling each other to the ground, away from the sun. Few trees thrive here, though, there is virtually a wall of branches on either side of the road. The trees have few leaves and they’re short, only rising above my head when they’re perched on top of a pile of limbs. The trees don’t care to grow tall and healthy in the heart of the forest, they just care that the other’s #FF0000 ">without the hyphen: “others” live constantly on the cusp of death.

“This is not my first time,” I tell myself, but I’m ashamed to say that a tear rolled down my face as I thought it #FF0000 ">Here you’re shifting tenses from present to past within a sentence. “I am a capable woman. I can fight a monster if I have to.”
And then another version of my thoughts slipped in: “You barely fought off the last one.”
“No, nonsense,” I corrected myself. “I am the Ambassador of the Crown. I cannot fail.”
“And yet,” that insolent part of me continues, “You will.” #FF0000 ">You keep changing tenses.

no longer tell which sounds are important enough to pay attention to, so I’m forced to take head #FF0000 ">"take heed" of all of them until I can’t hear anything but the throbbing. The dry smell of the dirt, the tightness in my chest, the salty taste of my saliva #FF0000 ">salty saliva? why is the saliva salty , and even the feeling of impact as my legs hit the ground, all of these feelings are expelled by the insistence of the sound. The light of my torch dims, so much so that I have to put my hand into the flames to tell if it’s #FF0000 ">"to confirm that it’s" still lit.

#228B22 ">These are a few corrections and suggestions that I hope are helpful. This is good work and I hope you continue on polishing your skills as an author.




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Mon Jun 11, 2018 10:43 pm
Radrook wrote a review...



Radrook here a once again to offer some suggestions.
Apologies if i offend. It isn’t my intention.
Please feel full free to cast aside all things you deem not helpful.
But if you do be sure its true by being extra careful.

That having been said:

Thanks for sharing this story about a girl who chose to traverse a forest and is assailed by a host of things that seem threatening. I like the drama created by the journey and the things encountered

I guess this comes under the category of human against the supernatural instead of human against human, human against nature, or human against animals. That is made clear by the way that the things that are frightening her are described. Trees are moving, the vegetation seems alive and there are sounds and sensations that she experiences which are far from the normal and which defy a scientific explanation. So they are essentially beyond nature or supernatural.

Her destination isn't revealed. Only that she could have taken a longer way but chose that shortcut. To me this indicates that the forest itself had no reputation of being a dangerous place or else she had never heard of its bad reputation.

Otherwise she would indeed have taken the long way rather that to expose herself to danger. So her attempt to cross it doesn't come across as being foolhardinesses but a case of ignorance instead. The sword she carries might indicate that the setting is in the past when such weapons were in common use. That she is female and carrying a sword comes across as an anomaly in such a scenario just as Joan of Arc was an anomaly in her time.

On the other hand if this is a fantasy world where human society developed in other ways, then it isn't an anomaly. One thing that caught my attention is that she is described as lifting her ear. I can only maybe imagine a elf ear doing so? Not sure if that impression was intended but there it is.

Understanding

I understand this story to represent how we make bad decisions in life by ignoring all the warning signs. Later, when we are enmeshed in deep trouble, we wonder why we didn't pay heed to those signs.

Suggestions

Please note that reminding the reader that the things occurring are in a forest is not necessary. The reader remembers that it is occurring in a forest once he is told and might begin to wonder why he is being reminded.

Also, the narration shifts from the past to the present and back to the past. It should be described as happening in either one or the other but not both at once.

All in all an interesting read. Looking forward to reading more of your work.





What orators lack in depth they make up for in length.
— Charles de Secondat, Baron de Montesquieu