Empty Forest

The sun was panning past the thick canopy of high conifers, its soft rays of light slowly receding. A group of children giggled as they ran through the foilage of the great forest, careful not to trip on loose roots or rocks. They were running in rebellion with gleeful laughter. Branches and the dense undergrowth scratched at their simple tunics and dirty braies. The forest was always dark, yet the children's presence made it seem slightly brighter. With every laugh, the darkness hidden behind the large trunks wanned and was replaced with joy. They were all somewhat tired but pushed on.

There were seven children, each similar to the other yet different in every way. They carried nothing with them besides the clothes on their bodies and the will to explore. The forest seemed boundless. In every direction, there were trees monstrously thick and incredibly tall, towering over the children as if they were insects. Shrubs and vegetation covered every corner of the forest, and sunlight barely filtered through the dense canopy, creating a tense and dark atmosphere that the children promptly ignored. No creatures were heard rustling through the underbrush, and no birds could be seen chirping in the trees; besides the children's vibrant glee and measured breaths, it was deathly quiet.

"This way, this way, before they catch us!" One hollered as if they were playing a game of tag. At the front of the childish pack was Rubin, the fastest and oldest of the seven, so they followed him. He was their leader in the endless dark and damp forest, guiding them through the twists and turns of the untamed woods. To the others, his age and athletic ability were reasonable enough traits for him to qualify as a leader and guide.

They all shouted words of agreement and continued running, unknowing of what lay ahead and too ignorant to care. To them, this was a game, they heard tales of the treacherous forest, but Rubin thought them to be just tales, not warnings. So the others pushed down their fears and ran. Those who had doubts at first did not regret it. They had never been this deep in the Empty Forest before; it was beautiful and refreshing, their natural playground.

Simon was one of the skeptical explorers, he was timid, and the stories of the deep parts of the great forest gave him nightmares ever since he could walk. Yet, none of the stories were proven to be accurate; he felt his fears melt as he ran freely through the forest. There were no towering beasts unless you considered the giant conifers beasts. The deep forest did not breathe as if it was an animal. It did not watch you as you run with thousands of camouflaged eyes. Nor were there children eating cannibals that would feast on Simon's ears. The deep forest was the same as the parts of the Empty Forest inside of the far gates, unmoving, unchanging, and typical.

He ran with shaky vision and a tired body. His eyesight was poor, it always had been, but he never tripped. He just watched some of the other children run near the back of the cohort—content with his surroundings. Simon smiled as his vision focused on a girl named Isabella; her laughter was the most boisterous and warmest of everyone running.

His smile faded slightly as he remembered why they were running. Should they be disobeying their parents' orders? It was too late for that. They were already waist-deep in the Empty Forest. If they turned back now, all they would get would get a beating. Simon nearly tripped as he heard the adults yelling for them a ways back, hot on their tail, pleading for the runaways to make themselves known.

He looked around to see if anyone else noticed, but it seemed just him. The rest of the children were too occupied with running and sightseeing, oblivious to the cries of their pursuers. Simon tried to say something about the adults, but his voice was drowned out. There was no point; they couldn't hear him unless Simon got closer.

In a moment of sudden realization, Simon noticed that the trees seemed a little darker and more inviting, and somehow the air tasted cooler. Then he noticed that his breaths were becoming heavy, his complexion was pale, and his stomach had started cramping from bodily stress and a wave of sudden anxiety. Simon stopped running with the others. They kept on running, unaware of the disappearance. Simon watched silently with heavy breaths as they loudly stampeded away. He sunk to the floor, exhaustion dousing him, with fear lining his face.

Far back, a group of townspeople was tracking the charade of children. While the children spread joy through the forest, their trackers were sweating under worry. Their concern, mixed with a good dose of fear, leaked into the woods, feeding its far branches with melancholy and terror. They followed the children's recent footsteps in a rush; to their misfortune, they were surprisingly quick together. Not a single child had broken from the pack or found their way back to the town. They had all stayed together, for better or for worse.

"When had those children gained so much stamina." Rony, a young farmer, ran through the forest with a large stride. His bright red hair jumped wildly with every step; he had volunteered to find the children who had ventured into the Empty Forest, but now he has begun to regret ever doing so. They were quick and agile. It was taxing just to follow them.

"Shut your mouth Rony. Complaining won't help find my kid." Groyle, a middle-aged blacksmith with a fierce beard and fiercer personality, glared at Rony with ire. He had constantly been complaining for a good five minutes now, and Groyle was tired of it.

"Stan! Stan!" Groyle yelled as if to make a point, pushing through shrubs and bushes with intense drive and surprising speed. Groyle was a muscular man with an average frame, his hands slightly burnt and covered with numerous tiny scars. Years of blacksmithing had toned his arms and body, and having a child grayed a few hairs on his head.

Groyle and Rony weren't the only people looking for the children. They came with a few other normal townspeople and some of the Townsguard. They had split up to cover more ground and catch strays. This was in vain because the children seemed to stick together for the most part and generally went straight. They were heading to the forest's edge. If they fell in too deep, they would never come out.

"What's that?"

"It's one of the children!" Rony ran over to the child. He was lying against a large conifer and was staring at the forest's canopy. Simon turned his head towards the sounds of shouting.

"You alright, lad," Rony said, examining his condition; it looked like the boy was spent.

"You...you, you have to catch Rubin before he and the others get eaten by cannibals or get killed by the forest creatures," Simon hiccuped, tears rolling down his face, "I wa..wanted to run after them, to tell them...but I'm not fast enough." Simon opened his mouth to say more but stopped himself and went back to staring at the vast canopy.

Rony leaned down towards the shaken boy, trying to comfort him; he had to be no older than twelve. "What are you talking about, cannibals?" The booming voice of Groyle overtook the emptiness of the forest, causing Simon to flinch slightly.

"I felt it. Something was going to happen; it got darker, and the worst feeling spread throughout my chest, and a loud ringing filled my head. It was as if I was being burned alive, I thought...I was going to die. Mother was right. This forest is cursed."

"I don't know what you're saying, boy, but I can agree that this damn forest is cursed; we should have burned it down ages ago," Groyle said, "Bring the kid back to Crion."

"What?" Before Rony could react, Groyle had already run off. Rony looked off at Groyle's back as he ran, "That old man has way too much stamina." In honesty, Rony was pleased he didn't have to run any longer, no matter the reason.

Rony looked back at the boy. He didn't quite understand why the boy was so frightened, but he understood that it was warranted if it had to do with the Empty Forest. Rony helped the boy up and started heading back.