Love Arrows Straight From The Heart
Metaphysical Romantic Short Fiction
He rose just as the sun sent its first rays to the rim of the horizon and the dim lights gleamed below the horizon. Grabbing his shoulder strap connected to a leather bag, with one single feather tip and wooden piece held in it, he began walking into the woods.
His steps were light and crisp, fluid in movement. He looked up at the trees and smiled.
He welcomed the presence of the birds and butterflies as he made his way out of the campsite and into the thickness of the forest. Using his deeper senses to feel his way through the woods, careful not to step in holes or trip over roots and briars, he walked down to the river. Here, he would do his work and craft the tools needed for the day.
Each piece had a unique purpose.
Each shaft of wood cut in perfect symmetry and straightness.
The feathers were reminders of trajectory and direction. He used hawk feathers for arrows that would be used for precision at long range. He used dove feathers for arrows that would be shot to give direction and reveal positioning. The arrow tips themselves were carved from different materials. Some were rock pieces. Some were metal, with fine pointed tips like that of a quil pen. And some were…
