Looking around, he stood
frozen in place, fear gripping him, in response to the rustling
noise. Back behind him amidst the scrub the noise continued. It
seemed to him that it was staying in place for its volume was
unchanged. Standing in a forest, just off the main path. Brought here
by an impulse, no that's not it. I was standing... How did I... I was
brought here. By whom? Now standing still like a statue he scanned
the forest floor looking and listening for any indication to what it
might be.
Another sound, this time
he notices the scrub of to his right moves slightly like a gentle
breeze blowing just over its top. Our hero takes a step in the
direction of the movement, stops, listens. Nothing. Taking a few more
steps, still nothing. Continuing on he notices what appears to be a
clearing. As he reaches the bushes standing waist high he sees a
circular clearing and what seems to be a cauldron. Looking around for
signs of life he sees two paths heading away. This cauldron is forest
green in color, covering the clearing without encroaching on the
nearby scrubs. This is out of place. No leprechauns around. No gold
inside the pot. This forest is immaculate and why would this be here.
For a note, having difficulty understanding this.
Walking around the object
of desire, nothing under or connected to it. Turning his attention to
above, the forests ceiling searching for clues. It contains no hints,
only revealing the sun peaking through openings like the holes in a
torn up umbrella. One interesting aspect there is no moss growing in
this forest. The coolness and dampness blanket this place, yet no
moss. Strange. Upon further inspection the immaculate nature
contained within punctuates this forest. Appears that someone takes
great pride in their domain. The pathways appear groomed as if swept,
maybe on a daily basis. The scrubs seem trimmed, uniformly manicured.
All this strikes him as being odd. Is magic at play here; or is a
groundskeeper involved. And what is the cauldron doing here. A
possible trap. Or is fortune smiling down on him.
Still mulling over these
questions he walks up pausing after a few steps, still nothing.
Continues on slow and steady. Reaching the black pot looking left,
than right, clear. Leaning over, he looks over the cauldron's rim.
Quickly moves back and glances nothing. Taking a breath, not traps
were triggered. Chancing a closer examination, he notices folded
paper. Bending over further into the pot he grabs his fortune.
Standing up holding up before him unfolding the paper, its a note.
Suddenly lowering his discovery, looking around the forest, scanning
for any sudden intruders, appears empty. Raising up the note to
read. Written in bold black ink are two words. Unfortunately it is in
a language unknown to him. Could it be an ancient language. Stymied
he thinks what gives. One step forward two steps back. When will a
break come my way. Folding up the note, tucking it away in the back
pocket of his jeans.
Nest to the cauldron his
attention turned to the paths laid out before him. One path going
right and the other left. The paths were narrower than the main path
he arrived on. Still they were neat and well defined. He studies them
puzzling through this dilemma. Which way and why? Stating the obvious
they wound through the forest in opposite directions. Nothing appears
different about either path. Both are narrow. And both lead deeper
into the woods.
This is an excerpt from a WIP
Any suggestions? Any opinions? Anything...
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