Forever Undone

Nightfall approached as a thick fog descended on the valley, slowly engulfing the blacksmith’s hut that sat at the far end of the meadow just at the forest’s edge. It was a modest structure accompanied by an equally modest forge and barn. An estate so unassuming and so far removed from the local town that one would hardly expect a blacksmith of such high regard to reside there.

“I’ll be right back, Papa.” A red haired girl called as she burst out of the hut. “We need the wood for the fire tonight; the rain has given me such a chill. We should not have let the pile get so low.”

She turned back to the hut but the fog had become so dense that she could no longer see the door, only the light glowing within. The cold rain continued to drizzle making her shiver. She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and pressed forward, determined to be warm and comfortable in bed tonight.

“Elora!” The smith called as he rushed to the door, his panic giving a sharp edge to his voice. “Come back! The wolves are all over tonight; did you not hear the howling?”

He squinted into the fog, daylight was fading fast. He could not see her at all now. The fire wood was stacked on the far side of the barn. The dense fog made even a short walk a hazard, creating a labyrinth out of even the most familiar of places. One could become disoriented in a moment. And the wolves, he shuddered at the thought. They would never dared come so close before, but times were hard and the woods had been over-hunted. The wolves had become as desperate as the men who had drained the forest of nearly every deer, rabbit and squirrel.

“Elora!” He called again, hoping that for once she would listen. She never did and this time seemed to be no different.

Muttering to himself, he grabbed a lantern and sword. He took a deep breath and stepped through the door, plunging into the abyss after her.

The balloon floated down, landing gently on the keyboard. The voice that followed was not nearly as gentle.

“KEEPY UPPY, MOMMY!!!!”

Maybe a few rounds, a quick break won’t hurt.

Back and forth for way more than a few rounds with piercing screams of excitement and giggles filling the room.

I had started so early. I was making such progress. I have to get back to it somehow without landing this kid in therapy.

“Hey, Little One, I restocked the popsicles in the freezer.”

“YAY!!!”

The small feet landed heavily on each step as he rushed back upstairs.

That was not good parenting.

Now where were we … headstrong girl … over protective father … situation that will obviously turn life threatening imminently, ugh .. I’m trying to write a horror – fantasy mash up, not a coming of age story for teens. I should give this a twist before she gets saved by two devastatingly handsome love interests that she must choose between or miss out on her one and only chance at true love.

And, also, it is not the 70s or the 80s, heck it isn’t even the 90s … why should the girl be the one who needs saving? Because the girl not needing saving has become yet another trope. It is a good one though.

At this point, I should just let the wolf eat her and pitch it as a bed time story for children. A stark illustration as to why you should listen to your parents.

Elora stole a glance back over her shoulder. The light from the hut was nothing but a dim glow in the fog. A smaller light broke off and seemed to be floating away.

“Papa, stay inside, I will be right back!” She sighed. He was on about the wolves again. She shook her head as if to reassure herself.

“They would never come this close to the hut so early in the evening.” She whispered, as if to speak it into being. She looked ahead; the barn was a nothing but a vague silhouette in the fog. The light was fading fast.

“I should have brought a lantern.”

She picked up her pace, determined to fill the basket and be on her way back to meet her father before he had walked even half way.

SNAP

Elora froze at the sound. A branch breaking under a foot, or a paw, made her blood run cold. She looked around cautiously. Nothing moved besides the lantern light coming closer from the house. No lurking shadows to speak of. No other noise besides the sound of her own heart pounding in her chest.

“That must have been my own foot fall.” She whispered, though she barely believed it. Nearly running, she reached the barn and loaded the basket as fast as possible. She had put the last few logs in the basket when she heard it.

Heavy panting, it was undeniable and unmistakable. Taking a deep breath to sooth her panic, she kept still. Her arm moved slowly, her hand searched until she found one of the metal rods that held the wood pile in pace. With a grunt of effort, she pulled it from the ground leaving part of the pile to collapse beside her. She would fix it tomorrow, in the safety of daylight, if there was a tomorrow.

A low guttural growl carried on the breeze.

It started raining harder, each drop an ice cold stab on her skin.

She spun on her heel to face her foe, dropping the basket and fixing both hands on the metal rod. She was met with nothing but the empty fog.

The growl cut through the fog again, this time it was farther from her. It was closer to the hut now, closer to the lantern light.

“Papa!” Panic overtook her and for a moment she forgot caution. She ran a few steps, but calmed herself enough to run back to grab the basket.

ZZZZZ ZZZZ ZZZZ

The phone.

An unknown number.

Maybe its an emergency.

I quickly swiped the green button.

“Hello, we are trying to reach you about your car’s extended warranty …”

I stabbed the red button as hard as I could with my thumb and longed to go back to the days of phones with corded handsets for the simple catharsis of being able to slam something down to hang up.

Okay, where are we at here? Panic informing poor choices. Maybe I should have the wolf eat her. That would be a twist. The horror-fantasy mash-up of a widowed blacksmith looking for love and a new family after his beloved daughter is tragically ripped to bits by a rabid wolf. No, then it becomes a weird horror –romance, not really a horror –fantasy.

I mean, honestly, if I’m following horror rules, she has to go. She’s said “I’ll be right back” so many times. Usually just once is enough to be a goner.

Is this really even Horror? I mean it doesn’t seem that horrifying, aside from it being a little horrifyingly cliché and predictable.

Her voice carried on the wind. It sounded as if she were coming closer.

“Finally some sense got scared into her.” He thought with a short lived relief. While he could hear her hurried foot falls, there were other foot falls as well. Quiet, deliberate foot falls moving behind him.

He slowly turned. Two eyes glowed in the fog, reflecting the light of the lantern.

“Well, shit. I hate it when I’m right.”

He lowered the lantern to the ground and steadied his sword with both hands.

“Come on out, beastie.”

The wolf emerged from the fog. It looked old and haggard. Skinnier than it should be, it moved with determination on tall lanky legs betraying a bit of a limp as it slowly circled. Its mouth open in a silent menacing snarl, it carried an obvious air of hunger and desperation. Injured and now sickly, it must have been recently driven from its pack and had nothing left to loose to deter taking a big risk for the hope of a meal.

The smith turned with it as it circled. Though he could hear Elora calling out to him, he dare not take his eyes off the wolf. He examined it closely as he waited for it to strike; there was something about its eyes. A strange blue glow that was all too familiar.

“It can’t be.” He whispered to himself.

Bing, Bong.

Seriously, the door bell?

I hurried upstairs. No one had planned to come over.

I pulled open the door to be greeted by two women in fancy dresses.

“Hello!” They chirped cheerfully. “Have you accepted Jesus as your Messiah?”

“No thanks, I’ll catch the next Messiah.” I said flatly.

I closed the door and quickly did a wellness check on the child. I found him happily sitting on the couch watching YouTube and enjoying a Popsicle. From the empty wrappers sitting in front of him he had already eaten six.

This is not good parenting.

I was too eager to get back into the story to worry about that now.

The wolf lunged as if it sensed his distraction. Its front paws landed solidly on his shoulder, knocking him off balance. They both fell to the ground. The wolf bit down on arm he moved defensively in front of his face. It missed its mark, only getting a mouthful of his sleeve. He swung his sword with one hand, burying the side of blade into the wolf’s ribs. The wolf yelped but pressed on, swinging its head around to bite again. The bite glanced off as the smith moved quickly to try to throw the wolf off balance.

Thwack

A log flew past the smith’s face, connecting with the side of the wolf’s head with a solid thump. A sharper yelp this time as the wolf was knocked to the side.

“Go on! Get! You Bad Wolf!” Elora threw another log with all her might.

The wolf dodged, regaining its footing. The wolf held its ground, refusing to retreat. Its snarl was no longer silent. It bared its teeth and let out a deep growl.

Elora grabbed up another log and threw it again. The wolf dodged nimbly, crouching low to the ground and getting ready to lunge.

“No!” the Smith struggled to get to his feet but knew he would be too late.

Panicked, Elora stumbled backwards towards her basket. Tripping over a loose stone, she fell backwards, landing hard on the ground. Keeping her eyes locked on the wolf her hand searched desperately for another log, but came up empty.

The wolf lunged.

“Why isn’t it a dragon?”

The little voice came out of nowhere, nearly startling me out of my skin.

“Dragons are way cooler than wolves,” He continued. “The dragon would be breathing fire and it would have its own hoard of treasure. Every cool story has at least one dragon.”

“And how would they fight the dragon and escape?”

“They wouldn’t. Dragons always win.”

“That would make for a really short story.”

“Yeah, then you’d be done and we could watch that new Dinosaur documentary together or that space video about the mission to the Moon.”

“After dinner, honey.”

“But I’m bored now.” came the exasperated sigh. He looked around the room, his gaze settling on the bag of markers he left on the corner of the desk. “I know, I’ll draw you a picture of a Dragon, that way you’ll see how cool it is and put one in the story.”

“As long as you’re quiet about it.”

The wolf lunged, transforming into a large dragon with sapphire colored scales. It spread it’s enormous wings as it soared over Elora’s head, vanishing into the fog. Its scales reflecting the lantern light, creating an ominous blue glow as it circled before descending and lighting the barn a blaze.

Nah, too bonkers.

Let’s keep the wolf a wolf.

The wolf lunged.

Instinctively, Elora held out her hand.

“STOP!” She screamed. As she did, her outstretched hand burned as if it had been stuck into the lit forge. A crackle of white hot energy burst forward.

The wolf seemed to pause in mid air before being burnt up in white hot flame. Only a pile of scorched ash remained by the time it hit the ground.

Stunned, Elora studied her hand. It had felt hot enough to have seared flesh right off of the bone, but now it looked entirely normal and no longer burned. Her father had regained his feet and stood over her with a solemn look on his face. There was no surprise or shock on his face, only a look of grim resignation to the inevitability of this moment.

“Papa?” Elora’s voice shook with uncertainty. Her words failed her.

He put the sword in his belt. With a deep breath, his expression softened.

“Come, my child.” He helped her to her feet and placed the basket of fire wood back in her arms. He picked up the lantern and wrapped his other arm around her protectively, guiding her back to the house. “We have much to discuss.”

“Mommy, when’s dinner? I’m hungry.”

I sighed, checking the time. “We can start cooking now.”

He excitedly darted towards the stairs, stopping about half way. “Will you do more writing after dinner?”

“No, I think we should watch the new Dinosaur documentary.”

“Yay!”

I followed him up the stairs, thinking of the cliché I wrote myself into. How, despite my best efforts, I created yet another story of a female protagonist needing magical powers to be special.

I’ll come back to it another day and fix it. I’ll have a fresh mindset then. I’ll figure out more of a plot and, maybe, where a dragon would make sense, if at all. More importantly, how can I make this girl special without magical powers? Maybe she sacrifices them, looses them or gives them up? Saves the day without them? She’ll realize that they only really get in her way and hold her back from who she truly is.

Ugh, now it sounds like teen fiction again.

For now, it remains forever undone as I enjoy my time with my most precious interloper.