Autumn Short Stories

The Mysterious Leaf

Emily Turner sat on the worn bench beneath the canopy of trees in Boston Common, her gaze drifting aimlessly over the golden leaves that swirled in the brisk autumn wind. The city's heartbeat was still audible in the distance—the hum of cars, the distant chatter of people—but she felt disconnected from it all. The world seemed a little too bright, a little too sharp, and it made her heart ache with a quiet, unspoken grief.

She hadn't planned to come here, but something about the park always called her back. It had been the one place that still felt like home since she'd returned to Boston. After the accident, after everything changed, the trees had become her refuge.

As Emily shifted on the bench, something caught her eye—a flash of color among the yellow and brown leaves at her feet. She bent down, reaching for what she thought was an unusual leaf. It was larger than the others, its edges curling in a perfect, symmetrical shape. Its vibrant red and gold hues were unlike anything she had ever seen before, almost as if it shimmered under the sunlight. Her fingers brushed against it, and a strange warmth tingled up her hand, as if the leaf itself had been waiting for her touch.

She hesitated for a moment before carefully picking it up. The leaf felt unnaturally soft, smooth to the touch, as though it had never known the roughness of the world outside of this moment.

"Strange," Emily murmured under her breath, running her thumb over the leaf's veins. It didn't look like any autumn leaf she had ever seen before. It seemed to have a faint glow, a slight iridescence that shimmered even in the fading light of day.

"Are you okay?" A voice interrupted her thoughts. Emily turned to see a man standing nearby. It was Aaron, her boyfriend, with his shaggy brown hair and easy smile, though his brow furrowed slightly in concern. "You've been quiet."

She managed a weak smile, showing him the leaf. "Look at this," she said, her voice distant as her fingers traced its unusual shape. "I've never seen anything like it before."

Aaron leaned in, taking the leaf from her hand and inspecting it closely. "Huh. It's pretty," he said, though his tone was more neutral than impressed. "Probably just a weird mutation or something. It's fall, after all."

Emily's gaze lingered on the leaf in his hands, but there was an odd pang in her chest. "I don't know... it feels like more than that."

Aaron didn't seem to notice her unease as he dropped the leaf into her lap. "Well, it's probably just some local oddity. You've been spending too much time in this park, Em. Maybe you need a break."

She nodded absently, but her mind was elsewhere, already drifting to the sensation that still lingered in her fingers. The leaf wasn't just a leaf. It was... something else.

The next few days passed in a blur, but Emily couldn't stop thinking about the leaf.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw its glowing edges, felt its warmth pulsing against her skin. She even dreamed about it—strange, vivid dreams of tall, ancient trees, twisted and gnarled, their leaves whispering in a language she couldn't understand. The dreams always ended the same way, with a distant voice calling her name, beckoning her deeper into the woods.

It wasn't long before Emily began to notice other oddities. The leaf in her pocket seemed to change colors in the moonlight, shifting from crimson to a faint gold, then back again. And at night, when the wind howled through the streets of Boston, she could almost hear a soft whisper—a voice just beyond her hearing, faint but unmistakable.