Short Story Swirl

The Glade (Mixed)

The rain fell silently, soaking the already damp grass and sticking it to the ground. The cool wind blew through the trees, bringing the smell of mildew and the upcoming winter with it. Water trickled down the various leaves and plants strewn about the forest, forming little puddles underneath.

Gracefully, a deer stepped between the puddles, continuing on to the field where he grazes. Sunlit despite the cloudy sky, the field lay beyond the woodline, surrounded on all sides by a heavy fog. Butterflies flew blissfully around the sunny glade, circling the various flowers and animals below them.

This field was a place of peace, where no rain, no sorrow, and no death could reach it. It was isolated from the rest of the world, yet on a clear day, lay hidden in plain sight. Unless you knew where it was, it was impossible to find, with the exception being rainy days. On rainy days, the glade stood out like white chalk on a blackboard, being that it was the only place in the entire forest where it simply did not rain.

The deer continued walking, and as he stepped from the dreary forest into the warm, shining glade, he suddenly transformed. Slowly, he grew in both height and length. His light brown fur began to tint, until finally becoming a mossy green. His already large antlers stretched, becoming as broad as the branches on the trees. He stood, tall and proud, looking over his glade.

It was not often that the God of the Forest showed his true form, but for some reason, the sweet grass from the glade always tasted sweeter when he did. The butterflies hesitated in their loops, gave the God a slight flap of the wings, and continued with their playful games.

Small mice and other animals scurried between the tall grass, inciting numerous games of hide and seek. Birds circled over head, enjoying the everlasting sun and avoiding the treacherous rain.

The God of the Forest stepped carefully further into his glade, admiring all the joyful creatures that bathed in its serenity.

It was through his power that this glade remained eternal. This was the spot where the God of the Forest before him had passed, and this was the spot where he, the new God of the Forest, was born. That's how it worked. Through a never ending cycle of death and rebirth, the God of the Forest's power kept the glade eternally peaceful. It had been this way for millenia, allowing the glade to become a safe haven for creatures of all types.

If you ever come across this glad, do not enter it. No matter how inviting or peaceful it seems, never, ever, cross the foggy borders. This glade rejects anything harmful, anything destructive, and anything evil. It twists it into a mangled, unrecognizable mess, a new creature never before seen, and casts it back into the forest to live the rest of its days in misery. Only the peaceful, the innocent, and the kind may enter. Humans, though, are the complete opposite.

One may say that not all humans are alike, not every one is evil, but it doesn't matter to the glade. To the God of the Forest, humans are humans. I've lived in this forest for centuries, I've even managed to befriend the God of the Forest, but do not be decieved. He will never truly befriend humans. If he did, we'd be allowed into the glade. I should know. I haven't been able to walk in years since he took my legs. I used to love running through the forest, weaving inbetween the trees, but now I can barely wiggle. During the heat waves, my scales burn, and during the frosts I nearly freeze solid. Since he took my eyes, I have no choice but to wander aimlessly, desperately trying to survive. I've only made it this far thanks to my exquisite hearing, since I was granted abnormally large ears.

If you're reading this, please head my warning. If you come across a beautiful, sunny glade surrounded by fog, whatever you do, never, ever go in it.