Sometimes I go to the edge of the Sacred Island and look down at the land below. My mom always tells me not to, but I can't help it, the view is beautiful. In the winter, I see the mountains, wrapped in a quilt of snow. In spring, the Elven Forest and the plains, dotted with human cities. The plains give way to desert as the beginning of summer rolls around. By the end of summer, the coves are in view. In fall, the Spirit Forest comes into view, looking like it is stuck in an eternal spring. The Demon Isle is also in view, surrounded in a blanket of fog. And in a strange way, it is beautiful. I always wonder why my mom doesn't like me looking down at the ground. Then, one day, I find out why. A boy from our village creeps up behind me and jumps at me, trying to scare me. As I turn around, my foot slips, and my stomach drops. I grab at the air, and my hand closes around the boy's wrist. So now, instead of only me falling, the boy is falling with me. Falling towards the ground. I wonder if this is the end. I was only alive for 12 years, and that seems like a waste. Before I have a chance to think of anything else, we reach the ground.
If only I knew magic.
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The Wizard in the Tower. An old legend passed down from generation to generation. There once was a wizard who traveled the continent, helping those in need. One day, a rich nobleman heard the stories of the wizard and decided to use him for his benefit. He pretended he was poor and begged the wizard for money. The wizard gave him a bag of gold, telling him to always help those in need, like the wizard helped him. The nobleman used the gold to gain favor with the other nobles and the king. When the wizard heard of this, he flew into rage. He stormed the nobleman's castle, alone. Defeated all his guards and trapped the nobleman's soul in a tree. So, he would forever be able to hear those around him, but never be able to communicate with them. Then, so that he couldn't be used for someone else's gain ever again, the wizard locked himself in a tower deep within the heart of the Spirit Forest, never to be seen again.
My mom told me the story of the wizard when I was little, and I always loved listening to it. I wonder why that story comes to mind amid this silence. No, not silence. There are sounds of birds and leaves moving in the wind. It sounds like I'm in a forest, but that can't be right. The last thing I remember is falling off the Sacred Island... Wait! I open my eyes and sit up, looking around.
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Short Stories From a Camera
Short StoryA collection of random short stories. Some of the stories are related to my other stories (The Monster Hero and Nature's Sign). Not all of them are stories, some are poems or other things.