steve maxwell
Proton
- Joined
- Apr 27, 2016
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So I just typed this up in less than an hour. I do have an ambition to become a writer, so opinions and criticisms would be good too.
In the Trees
“Onwards men! That blighted fox must be nearby!”
Lord Henwick knew his chase was coming to a close. His hounds baying for the taste of fox flesh. When it was over he would hoist the pelt all the way back to his home, Henwick hall. Henwick stirred his horse into a gallop. He would have the fox within the hour.
He had ridden for another kilometer before he realised his fellow riders had vanished.
By that time, Henwick was deep within the forest. The brambles rose around him. Henwick brought his horse to a stop and looked around.
“Where are you chaps? Crompton? Thistlethwaite? Charles?”
For the first time, a trickle of fear crept into Henwick’s heart. He was not much of a fan of the darkness, which was slowly creeping upon him as the evening came. His horse whinnied and nickered, which did not help his nerves. He dismounted the horse and looked around, seeking an exit. The moment he did so however, the horse galloped into the trees, somehow flitting through the brambles.Henwick stood there for a few moments, the terror setting in yet further.
He did not notice the horned man until he stepped into the bramble circle, a branch snapping indicating his arrival.
Henwick whipped around, his heart now in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, only managing inarticulate gurgles. The horned man was able to speak however, and he did,
“Now ape child, why do you chase a son of the woods?”
The Horned man’s voice was both young and old, almost treelike in its way. It perfectly suited the man’s appearance, both ancient and youthful at the same time. Atop his head was a crown that almost appeared to look like a deer’s pelt, though it was formed of grass and straw. The pelt draped all around the man’s body, covering him except for his face.
Henwick had found his voice again, “Wh- who are you? What are you?!” he choked out.
“I created the trees themselves ape child. I created all natural things. I am Cernunnos. And now, for your crime ape child, you shall become like these woods.”
The horned man raised his right hand and closed it in a fist. The fist glowed slightly.
Henwick had found his nerve entirely. His hand went to his scabbard, and he withdrew his sword. He attempted to walk forward, but found he could not. His legs had turned to wood. His body had turned to wood. Henwick tried to scream, but he could not.
Cernunnos turned, and walked away into the brambles, leaving only a circle of brambles in the woods. In the middle of this circle was a lone oak tree in the vague shape of a man...
“Onwards men! That blighted fox must be nearby!”
Lord Henwick knew his chase was coming to a close. His hounds baying for the taste of fox flesh. When it was over he would hoist the pelt all the way back to his home, Henwick hall. Henwick stirred his horse into a gallop. He would have the fox within the hour.
He had ridden for another kilometer before he realised his fellow riders had vanished.
By that time, Henwick was deep within the forest. The brambles rose around him. Henwick brought his horse to a stop and looked around.
“Where are you chaps? Crompton? Thistlethwaite? Charles?”
For the first time, a trickle of fear crept into Henwick’s heart. He was not much of a fan of the darkness, which was slowly creeping upon him as the evening came. His horse whinnied and nickered, which did not help his nerves. He dismounted the horse and looked around, seeking an exit. The moment he did so however, the horse galloped into the trees, somehow flitting through the brambles.Henwick stood there for a few moments, the terror setting in yet further.
He did not notice the horned man until he stepped into the bramble circle, a branch snapping indicating his arrival.
Henwick whipped around, his heart now in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, only managing inarticulate gurgles. The horned man was able to speak however, and he did,
“Now ape child, why do you chase a son of the woods?”
The Horned man’s voice was both young and old, almost treelike in its way. It perfectly suited the man’s appearance, both ancient and youthful at the same time. Atop his head was a crown that almost appeared to look like a deer’s pelt, though it was formed of grass and straw. The pelt draped all around the man’s body, covering him except for his face.
Henwick had found his voice again, “Wh- who are you? What are you?!” he choked out.
“I created the trees themselves ape child. I created all natural things. I am Cernunnos. And now, for your crime ape child, you shall become like these woods.”
The horned man raised his right hand and closed it in a fist. The fist glowed slightly.
Henwick had found his nerve entirely. His hand went to his scabbard, and he withdrew his sword. He attempted to walk forward, but found he could not. His legs had turned to wood. His body had turned to wood. Henwick tried to scream, but he could not.
Cernunnos turned, and walked away into the brambles, leaving only a circle of brambles in the woods. In the middle of this circle was a lone oak tree in the vague shape of a man...
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