Truths
This story was written sometime in 2001, probably even a bit earlier than that. It features as one of the stories I wrote as a project for a fantasy realm as the author “Mionisa Cerrom”. This is from her collection “Histories of yesterday, today and tomorrow”. It has been brushed up a bit before it went all bloggy, essentially some minor linguistic work has been applied, but the content hasn’t been altered in any meaningful way.
First truth
Again I wandered through the forest. This pearl of nature. But no longer green and sparkling with life, the coldness had come. Leaves where turning yellow, and shades of red sought to devour the remainding green. Only a few of the trees could show me the green beauty that was the forest, it’s very life. All the beauty I loved so highly was gone. Along the banks of Chiso I wandered this morning. This desolate time, where everything was to be forced to its knees and murdered. God how I hate this season. Not even the water is its own self anymore… Filled with all these signs, from yellow to red, all telling the same tale. And the mist was rising from the river, greying out the signs of life even further. King Winter has his chariot out.
Well, along the river I walked none the less. Bidding the forest farewell I guess, it’s the least a man can do. After a short while I passed a willow, a small willow actually, where a woman sat. Middle-aged, maybe around 35 or so. A beautiful woman she was, but then again, they all are, aren’t they? Small lips and a smiling face, radiating warmth even at a time like this. She was soaking in the view of Chiso, longing for a lost times, which have given so much. Longing for the past. I let her sit there, in peace. I’m not even sure if she noticed me… She was my last sight of the forest before I returned home, and waited for King Winter to leave us in peace.
Second truth
I came to these woods, this forest I’d missed so. This landscape of utter beauty. All there was, was this. Just the smell, the smell of a forest during the autumn. By the bank of Chiso, I came to rest. To borrow these woods, to borrow them for the briefest second in all its eternity. This display of colour I’d never forgive myself for losing. Autumn is a magic time. I love autumn. I sat there, watching the suns rays play joyfully with the mist of the water. Dancing, twirling, playing with each other. I sat there, enthralled by this magnificent dance to the melody only the forest could play. I love this season. This morning. This moment.
Oh how wonderful the forest is when it thanks summer for its warmth and pleasure. With such beauty. With a marvelous beauty the forest gives its thanks. I’m charmed into a dream watching over the water.
Who knows how long I sat there, by this willow, this willow I love. This shabby old thing which I visit every year. I already wait for the next autumn, when life again gives thanks, and awaits the next time it shall blossom.
Third truth
An early autumn morning by the bank of Chiso, a bit north of Oma, a thirty-two year old woman sat next to an old willow. She watched over the waters, and its misty realm. A man, eleven years her senior, quietly contemplating the womans thoughts, passed her. Yet her eyes never moved from the waters. The man left the forest, the woman stayed. While the trees where all colors from yellow to red.