The Unicorn Challenge.
A magical new weekly writing opportunity from her – Jenne Gray – and me.
Visit her blog every Friday to see the photo prompt, and post your amazing story in her comments section.
Or on your own blog, and stick the link down in her comments.
The rules are:
Maximum of 250 words.
Based on photo prompt.
That’s it.
To hear me read my story, just click here:
Sylvan Glade
Sylvan glade.
I love that expression.
It conjures up images of wood nymphs, elves and, for me, unicorns.
It is, I think, so much more poetic than ‘a wee clearing in the woods’.
Wandering through the trees in my usual aimless fashion, I discover an idyllic spot.
Peaceful, so inviting, that I dump my rucksack and sit.
I’m already relaxed, and almost immediately find a deep tranquillity here.
I’m in that semi-wakened semi-asleep state that I really enjoy.
It often heralds a burst of creativity.
Then I sense something.
I feel that familiar, but almost forgotten, tingle on my neck.
I’m being watched.
I stay still, but open my eyes slowly.
I check behind the three large pines to my centre right.
Nothing.
To the left stand a couple of palms and a plane.
Nothing.
I study the single beautiful eucalyptus almost straight ahead, its shedding bark, its subtly wonderful colours.
And, of course, I see a face.
Like I do in every tree, every cloud, every cliff face, every rock pool.
I smile at my foolishness.
I’m not usually skittish.
But a tiny movement catches my attention.
I stare at the plane, perhaps my favourite of all trees.
In its mottled surface I see another face.
But I’m no longer smiling.
I’m tense, preparing myself.
When the next flicker comes from a magnificent pine, I’m on my feet.
I realise the truth.
These trees have eyes.
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Excellent story. Engaging and immersive, what more can a writer/story-teller hope to create?
Funny thing. We, all of us, imo, find certain natural features to have the potential for the darkside. Varies of course. Your tale of feeling the uncanny that exists just below the surface of trees certainly resonated with your readership here at the Unicorn ‘hop.
Thanks, Clark, and I agree that we can hope for no more in a short tale than to engage our reader and perhaps provoke a thought.
Nature is older and deeper than any of us, and therefore has mysteries beyond our ken.
Watching them watching you. Being familiar with your tales, towards the end I quite expected the body count to rise again, but happily, it didn’t.
But, if the eyes have teeth, it might yet!
Your usual build up of tension but overall a wonderful testament to nature’s beauty. It makes me think of a watchful, loving rye.
Thanks, Lindsey, glad you enjoyed.
Truly magical storytelling. There is no doubt that the trees watch and listen.
Thanks, Lisa, happy you enjoyed it.
Good to see you here again.
You’re welcome and thanks!
I’ve seen those eyes myself, CE! Unnerving at first, that’s true! Good one! 👁 👁
Sometimes, Tom, life’s a beech!
Oak A… I see what you did there! 🤣
My first thought was of dryads, or perhaps the Green Man himself. But then you dispelled that by discounting it as pareidolia. And then smack!
Should’ve trusted the first instinct. Well crafted, CE. 😉
Thanks, Liz.
They could be Ents…
Ah! You made me Google again: Tolkein!
Here was I thinking the tingle down your neck was a spider or maybe a snake on a plane. If the trees have eyes and the walls have ears, it makes you wonder why we need AI. 😉
Nah, Doug, this is France, not Oz!
Don’t forget too that rivers have mouths, so Nature can see, hear and speak!
🙂
There they are again.
The goosies up and down my spine.
I think you’re a lady who enjoys an occasional goosie, Nancy!
I nearly ran away myself there!
Excellent build-up to an unexpected and very satisfying finish.
You make every word count in your clear and beautiful descriptions.
It’s an art, and you’re the Master.
Thanks, Jenne, glad it worked for you.
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Spooky! Just how I like it 🙂
Laughing.
That’s cool!