Wrath

A Story by Taepoo

An intro I wrote in hopes of becoming a book

There was an unnatural stillness in the thick air of the forest, like a puppeteer’s curtain descending over his stage. The frondescence of the area threw the only light into a serene blackness. Stark colors reverberated from the foliage, cascading together into a waterfall of clashing colors when close enough to each other. The sky above a canvas of luminous forest was a deep crimson, and littered with illuminated creatures �" those that could fly �" scanning the tops of trees for prey. The hunted, lounging above the glowing canopy, were difficult to pick out, as they too were covered in flush patterns of light.

Beneath the spreading limbs of trees, tiny drops of dew fell from the glowing amber plant as two rough and callused fingers touched the edge of its leaf. The large hands belonged to a man no more than forty, sea eyes alight with wonder. Circles of varying sizes, bright and warm, overlapped veins on the plants leaves. The gray hair was tinted red when the man brought his face closer to the task in front of him. He had to use precision. A cool breeze brought shivers from him, his hands shaking from the chill. He was faintly attentive to the wonderful smell of the recent rain storm.

He didn’t pay attention to the silence, or rather, didn’t notice it among the buzz of his own thoughts.

The hem of his leathery cloak was soaked and gathering mud and twigs. His satchel �" likewise soaked from the rain and now the earth - glowed from the inside out with samples of the amber plant he had already collected, along with a variety of other colored plants gathered earlier. Altogether the man was nothing short of a haggard old thing, tired eyes, rough features, ragged clothes. However, his smile was always there; he didn’t look like a man with four mouths waiting for him at home. Or maybe he did, and he did not consider it a burden.

A mist shadowed everything around him, dulling the glistening color of different foliage all around. His fingers gripped the edge of the sprout and gently tugged upward. Doing so, he could see how healthy the plant was, hoping it would be ready to harvest. Seeing it as ripe, he plucked each leaf away from the stem and stuffed them into his bag. He stood and stretched his soon-to-be-retired back and readjusted his cloak. The disappearance of light was muted by the remaining glow of other flowers, yet it still gave a blank air to the clearing the man stood in. Only the orange-tinged light through his satchel remained to light that darkness.

A smooth scratching among the various gatherings of rocks alerted him. The heart beating slowly in his chest gave a sputter as he turned to the growing black behind him. Smooth and dripping with anticipation, a guttural hiss erupted from the shadow.

The man’s smile faded. He dashed into the opposite end of the clearing, into the trees. The normal hum of insects and creatures foraging could not be heard. He had to question his common sense through the muddled fear �" had the forest been so still before? How had he not noticed? His breath huffed into the cool, quiet night. A normally smooth heart beat now thudded erratically in his ears, the wind whipping past him chilling the sweat forming on his brow. He never saw the rock he tripped on.

The tough hands clawed and reached over rough thorns as he tried to regain his footing. His mind’s eye saw the four children waiting beyond the edge of the forest �" wondering if they had eaten well for dinner. Trivial questions tripped by while he continued to stumble along. The man glanced back at the herbs in his satchel. That particular flower would have done wonders for his youngest child’s fever. His mouth was stained with the taste of dirt, his nostrils permeated with the burning smell of sulfur. His life blood stained the earth, and all at once the silence was broken by a sob, a laugh, and a growl.

And then the stillness remained.