The Heart of the Forest
Enchanted by the magic of the forest, the life that emanates the good energy of the only kind being in this flora — beautiful, waiting for me more than my life.
My birth was my greatest tragedy. I never asked for it to happen, and I always wished it hadn’t. My mother died during childbirth, losing all the energy she had left trying to summon the last of her strength so that a new life could come into existence.
It was destined; the birth happened on our own farm, surrounded by the stench of animal feed and dirty water, which filled the air with a strong and natural odor. All friends, acquaintances, and even those who disliked us came to our aid; those who couldn’t attend remained in the chapel, praying to our god of Fire for a new being to live in joy and health until death took it — a new miracle. In the most difficult moments, everyone could hear my mother’s cries from outside, cries of pain but also of loneliness. The fear of losing another child would be her greatest disaster, one of four possible heirs. The panic of dealing with another loss led my mother to give up all her energy so that my birth wouldn’t be just another disaster. The biggest one was when her own life was traded for mine. When I finally emerged, many held me in their arms, but only he — my father — immediately realized the disaster that had occurred. Tears filled his eyes, and memories flooded his mind like a single tunnel of emotions. So much hatred for what he held in his arms at that moment, and yet, sadness for his beloved.
My father never accepted my existence. Still resentful over my mother’s death, for which he blamed me from the beginning, he didn’t make it easy to confront the demons that lived in his head, attacking his sanity. In an attempt to express his feelings of disgust and hatred, he directed the pain flowing in his blood toward me, expressing it in anger, marking my skin and soul. Marks of contempt for existing, as if, by my fault, the decision to be born had been made.
At my sixteenth birthmark, something happened while I was asleep — I was enlightened. I was contacted by a mysterious entity I called “Ancient” during my longest and deepest dream. While dreaming, transported to another world. In the midst of another nightmare, I witnessed my own birth, drew the sword, sheathed at my belt, marked with the emblem of our house, while hearing my father’s cries, standing by my side, “Kill him now!” the soul that supposedly was mine. And during the terror that destroyed my sleep, it momentarily stopped. The dream world opened up, a completely clear white plane to my eyes, and I saw nothing, spreading in my mind like poison, flowing and deceiving the blood with its own gifts. For long minutes while dreaming, I felt nothing, as if by magic, my feelings vanished. I could only think about what was supposed to have happened, but nothing made sense. It was easier to accept — just another one of those dreams. At the peak of my imagination, as I questioned what had happened, a forest appeared. Magical, teeming with life. Countless lights in the small spaces between the leaves on the trees and bushes on the ground. Flowers everywhere and animals singing and running, living their own lives. No living being I observed seemed to know I was there. It was breathtaking. A new and magical life, like a fairy tale. When I looked to the side, I saw her. The entity I called “Ancient” which raised even more questions about what was happening at that moment. A dream so real yet imaginary. She just stared at me, fixedly, as if she wasn’t supposed to be there. Until, after managing to fix my eyes on her without diverting my gaze, she spoke, with a high-pitched, raspy voice, “Destined, chosen, by nature, which once chose me.” When she stopped speaking, I woke up. For a moment, it seemed that both worlds had swapped, and I had returned to my reality. Awake and with nothing to think, I never forgot those words. This was not just another dream.
Time passed, years passed, and the same chaos was maintained under my roof. My father who expressed disgust for me. And I, who lived in increasing fear of my next step. The one that would almost certainly be the last. Over the years, in our village, the Solstice occurs. A sacred union of the youngest souls, prepared at the age of eighteen, ready for the great sacrifice to the Hunt. Once a year, five young men are chosen by the Elder — guided by the eyes of the Hunt — to be sacrificed. Marked with a sigil, known only to him, to be sacrificed so that the next year may bring an abundant supply of well-fed and muscular animals to our forest as our food. When it was my turn to reach eighteen birthmarks, it was no different.
My father, who had always hated me, against my wishes and pleas for change, decided to change my fate with his own hands. In friendship and favors exchanged with the chapel of our village, words were spread by the Apostles and the Elder himself that a sigil had an owner — me. And so, the agreement was made between my father and the religion. I was marked by the Hunt for the next sacrifice. A fateful day that now marked my memory. Not for long, since I did not return from this one. When the big day came, chaos spread. Anxiety screamed in my eyes, making me cry out of panic without understanding why everything was happening. Many celebrated in the streets, especially the men, who would receive everything from our forest a week later. The women who would later be able to use the hides for clothing, and the young who survived meant they would never have to go through the ultimate sacrifice again. It was no surprise to discover that my own father orchestrated my death; it had been desired for eighteen years. But there was nowhere to go without being seen. Fleeing was nearly impossible, and crying until the sacred hour would not help. Of the five chosen, only one of them accepted the inevitable fate that awaited him, but we all had to be present at the same time. Not surprisingly, the other four chosen, including myself, fled. Finding them was part of the fun of this small festival and yet considered normal.
They would start by picking us up at our doorsteps. Eight Apostles with numerous crosses marked on their bodies and a single large black cloak that covered their identity, had the duty to collect the chosen and deliver them to the gathering place. But when they arrived at my house, I was no longer there. My father was with me, but he didn’t notice my absence, which was not difficult given his predictability. I had fled, exiting through the kitchen window facing the Ortal bridge, which connected our village to the forest, three houses away from mine. I left everything at home except for the clothes I usually wore, avoiding distractions. I ran as fast as I could, reaching the first house in the blink of an eye, constantly trying to avoid the streets filling with people. Upon realizing my absence, the Apostles raised the alarm, shaking their bells ten times, warning everyone that one of the sacrifices was on the run. A huge smile appeared on everyone’s faces, and they immediately launched into the chase, avoiding killing me, as doing so would mean the Hunt would not accept my body. Since the soul no longer resided in it.
As I passed the first house, of the three that separated me from the Ortal bridge leading to the forest, I focused only on evading those who pursued me. Getting past the first two houses was not difficult, especially since I could easily run along the walls, as no one would be inside at this time. But when I reached the third house, I was spotted by a couple tending to their garden just hours before the Solstice, realizing that I was a fugitive. The fact that there was a young adult running along the house edges with nothing on him and the sound of the previously heard bells left no doubt in the eyes of the couple, who immediately shouted, revealing my position. They were not in a condition to chase me due to the woman’s pregnancy, but they helped in every way they could, providing information about my movements. It was then, realizing that it was useless to try to hide my actions, I rushed onto the road filled with people, running quickly through the crowds without anyone realizing that it was a sacrifice passing through their arms and legs so they wouldn’t try to catch me. When I reached the Ortal bridge, those with crossbows were trying to shoot me in the legs to slow me down, as if a real hunt was happening. The slightest mistake could mean one less sacrifice, but at this moment, they didn’t seem to care. I just kept running, anxiety causing my legs to move uncontrollably, and all I could think was, “What’s next?”. In fact, when I reached the forest, there was nowhere to go. I couldn’t go back to the village, which would kill me upon my return, and I had nowhere to go and survive. I was lost, mentally.
But the will to live remained, and I kept running. As I crossed the Ortal bridge, my lungs gave their final gasps. My breath was stronger than ever, and my legs seemed about to give up. Dodging arrows while crouching and running almost bent over through the crowds had exhausted my body too much. The trees were my last hope to elude the monsters behind me. Upon reaching them, I did everything to divert their attention, using my youthful agility to my advantage. And it was in this moment of desperation that the Ancient appeared — again. Radiant, before my eyes, this time not in a dream. Staring at me fixedly, she reached out her arm toward me, showing the palm of her hand, marked with a golden deer paw, like a blessing. I tried to avoid her path, but my legs didn’t obey. My mind was being deceived by her magic, and against my will, I could only run toward her, without stopping. At that moment, as I approached the Ancient, I went against her hand, taking me back to the white plane that I had seen before in my life and had never forgotten. My world was torn apart by the white that invaded me again. Faster than in the dream I had, I was transported to the enchanted forest with flowers, animals, and life. Magic filled every corner, and I couldn’t comprehend it. The forest wouldn’t let me think or question because of the sheer wonder that my eyes beheld.
The animals looked at me, this time realizing my existence. Slowly, they came closer to me, approaching my skin and sniffing me as if they were getting to know me, but for some reason, they knew who I was — or so I thought. The Ancient remained before me, watching the animals reconnect with another being who was their heart. All these events brought back ancient memories, and nothing in my head made sense at this point, and I couldn’t understand anything. Only one question filled my thoughts that reflected my past and present as a whole, “Why?”. When I asked myself that question, the Ancient answered, as if she could read my mind constantly, “Because you are our life, everything. Without you, we do not exist. You were born, and now you will return to us, ready.” Upon hearing those words, my eyes filled with emotion — tears streamed down my face like rain on a stormy night. Nothing seemed to make sense, but as strange as it seemed to my mind at that moment, I preferred this to the terror of my reality. Chaos had been replaced by harmony; I no longer heard those pursuing me, only the animals speaking to me and singing among themselves. I felt that nothing could harm me ever again. Maybe she knew that, and after learning the truth about me, she let me live, trading her soul for the enchanted forest. Life itself and the new heart of the forest.
Thank you for reading this short story.
I don’t have a schedule with what I publish, short stories, or thoughts.
I just write what I want when I want it. Trying to alternate between both.
I only hope you like what I write and feel what I try to share my own mind.
Thank you!
