My eyes awaken to the sight of a marvel of land. From that which my vision holds endeavor to convince my cognition, I am in a vast forest of
enchantment. Forthwith, I assess I have fallen into the envelopment of a dream. My surroundings are too transcendent of fantasy to not be figments of an imagination of mere slumber. If thus, tis
the uttermost realistic and beautiful dream I ever have had. I fail to recollect a solitary dream of my life which enabled me to see in such clarity and feel emotion thus approximate to reality.
Perhaps I have been waylaid by the guile of death at unawares in my sleep and brought to the afterlife of my mortal world. I fail to determine. In confession, I honestly care not. My soul is too
bound to its peace to question its contrivance or be resolute to distinguish truth from the guise of its antithesis. It is sufficient truth that in my heart, there lingers happiness. It is tacit,
and it is small, though it diffuses throughout every vein of my body from the steady beats of my heart. My eyes cannot blink, my mouth cannot close, and my mind, henceforth, has wrought in its
solemn subconscious the intent to traverse into the midst of this dream forest of sweet serenity and beseech the origins of what conjures the rapture of my being.
As I stride across the gentle woodland ground and gaze about my fantastical circumambience, I take heed that the forest is scattered with innumerable small blemishes of light. They hover fluttering with the crisp cool air without wings, of all different colors and sizes. They are floating, almost dancing, to the most serene sound to have ever conducted my ears. The forest is under the incantation of a mysterious melody. It whispers with the wind as a herald of comfort to my skin and the muscles and bones beneath it, until I am forced to yield to the impulse to stand without motion and permit my eyes to shut. By listening to this song of allurement, I feel I am weightless. I feel neither my legs, nor any limb at all, although I receive a soothing chill traveling up my spine. Who, or what, is accountable for producing such a sound of spelling nourishment? I open my eyes to detect the floating light gradually moving about, somehow aware of my presence and welcoming me into their land. What could they be? Are they living entities, or sheer adornments of occult illumination? Ever what may they be, undoubtedly these spirited lights furnish a supplementary definition to the rudimentary essence of life and marvel of this forest, not unlike the prominent abundance of the trees, so lofty a multiple of twenty-five in my height would ascend only halfway up the rinds. The trees flourish with pure green leaves and deathless bark, unmarred by age and decay. The area is deeply wooded, prevalent in trails diverging in all directions, rich of soil and capacious in width, providing explicitly advocated exploration throughout the forest, arousing indecision of where to venture, if one could take venture into this wood with unclouded consciousness. The trees are arrayed in even equidistant rows, remaining off the pathway of the trails, as if refusing to be an obstruction. Plenteous clusters of leaves enwrap the roots of every tree in thin tangled vines. No branch of a tree could be perceived to the medial eye; growth of the branches abides at the summit of all the trees. The leaves growing from the peak of each tree coalesce with one another and compose a ceiling for the forest as a veil for the sun. In lieu of the attempt by the leaf begotten canopy to hinder sunlight from above, the sky illumines unencumbered through the leaves boundlessly throughout the entire forest, striving to warm the soil and nourish the gentle blades of grass below in smooth visible rays of light upon the ground, perforating the leaves in exposing countless glowing vents in the ceiling of green, in a semblance that a cluster of fitful stars is shining in daylight abroad. I neither measure nor comprehend the magnitude of my own astonishment. Might a mystical foundation reside hereupon the ubiquitous wondrous aberration?
Unperturbed, I wander en route the multitudinous paths of the forest as one diverts into another with admiration and wonder in my mind and heart, seeking neither exit nor destination. The disseminated particles of light counsel me with unascertained designation as I pass through the wooded sanctuary. They are whispering to me. Their language eludes my comprehension, for only placid zephyrs of complacency I perceive in their subliminal intonation. As I undertake this journey with the melody of forest wind, another sound is marked by my perception. It is neither nor incantation nor wind, but a conduction of an aqueous symphony. As it breaches the peripheries of my ears, I dwell upon the vista of running water in a nearby radius. Expeditiously, my consciousness elevates to a formulated intention to unearth the origin of this extrinsic stimulus by further exploration, and by the rejuvenating tranquility that courses throughout my enamoured embodiment, augmenting for every passing moment of pressing into the sunray pierced groves of dust borne scintillation, a vaster penetration of these entrancing recesses I indisputably now wish to engage.
The path underneath my feet proceeds to run into an accessible archway in one interminably elongated array of trees. Shaped by curving branches from two separated trees on each side, the covert is positioned in the center of an extensive wall of abreast trees, distending through the wood with no visible culmination in either direction to indicate a finitude in length, and moreover, the inclusive amplitude of the entire woodland realm. Because of what compression of space there is between the unified growths of the trees; one cannot view what abides beyond this unending alignment of trees save the trail I hereupon stand veering into the untrodden bowels of the forest through the archway. I approach the shadowy threshold of the trees and traverse the arched ingression in the sequence of trees, resuming my dilatory stride upon the trail as it alternates its path left behind the seemingly infinite forest wall wherefrom I take emergence. As I reinitiate my observation, I give ear to the distant liquescent sounds of which I incline to espy and tread onwards as the trail carries my feet leftwards and regulates my path alongside the inner right of the endless line of boles. I gaze to my right and descry a greater quantum of abreast trees growing in innumerous parallel rows, permeating illimitably into an abyss of deep amber, extending far into the edge of sight where naught is seen but nebulous effulgent twilight, emanating inexplicably from the impenetrable wilderness. The solitary trail I walk educes expansion without conceivable exit or terminal; merely ceaseless distance on a seemingly boundless path that renders neither reluctance nor struggle to travel abides. The branches never desist to amaze me with their sheer deficiency of obstructions before my limbs and eyesight. The ground is composed of a harlequin soil carpet, creating a general terra firma of the land. The brightness is relatively deficient here compared to outside the tree wall beside me, and not one ray of light succeeds in penetrating the roof of leaves throughout the orange-brown domain of equidistant tree rows fading into the incandescent haze of unknown. In the midst of the wood, leaves exhibit a darker hue of green and the soil a hue of darker auburn than they would had they been bathed in direct sunlight. The sunlit expanse outside of the wall is cultivated with bright tender grass, yet not a single blade of such resides aught about the reddish-brown soil enfolding the lighter brown trail underneath me. Blemishes of light continue to glide throughout the atmosphere, and the sounds of water draw nigh with every step taken. These auroral flares are speculated to be the sole forms of life, save the trees, that occupy this forest, assuming they are, in truth, living entities. No indication of the presence of archetypical forest creatures can be read. The conveyance of enchanting incantations amidst the mysterious vacancy propagated naught but an omnipresence of peace, as the enigma of habitational conscious life protrudes on the rustles of the forest wind. After a quantum of ambulated length along the inner periphery of the amber hollows, broadening in circumference with the indefinite range of my footsteps there lays a point of light, evincing far into the distance of the interminable promenade. I draw toward the light as it magnifies in space, portending to be an entrance to another distinctive segment of the forest. Grass comes forth into view, followed by sunlight as brilliant streaks thereof find strength to pierce through the leaf cloven zeniths to reach for the ground, fading upon descent. I advance along the dwindling road and prepare to traverse the imminent brink of more unexplored arboreceous tranqulity.Anon, I predict to encounter what is responsible for the incitement of my inexplicable perceptions of a semblant body of water within this wood.
I withdraw from the shadows of the tree-ensconced trail and step foot into what I could concede to be the heart of the whole forest. Before the astonishment in my eyes, a wide glimmering waterfall of blue and white gently descends from an altitudinous mass of grey stone, cascading into a crystalline river and streaming into opposite directions of left and right with bending currents, encircling the shelf of rock, until they flow parallel to each other and head into the direction I am facing. I form the conclusion that, from any other location of the forest, this region cannot be seen nor discovered, as I had in no way attained the adequate vantage of espying this place from anywhere I have wandered antecedent to arriving here, which apparently could have only be done so from the path I had undertaken, as no other route can be detected leading into this wide-open sward. The trail I am on comes to a cease not far ahead. The encompassing trees construct a rigid perimeter for this terrain. Assuming where I currently stand establishes accurate utilization for cardinal directions, the wall of contiguous trees expanding far south with the length of the long-distant trail horizontally diverts westward ere extending north again, designing the western wall for the area, as the parallel rows of commeasurably dispersed trees to the south issuing endlessly to the east in amber wilderness come to a finite boundary in a line of trees of equal length and contiguity to the one on the west, enacting the second half of the southern wall for this area that is punctured solely by the trail I stand on. As the leftwards half of the southern wall diverts from horizontal to vertical to create the western wall, the rightwards half emulates this function in order to form the eastern wall of this enclosed forest land. As the river streams in vertical rows at either side of the waterfall, great boles arise from narrow edges of grass that extend as hindermost as the stone mass, which projects the current of a pouring river quite higher than my sight can assess, coming forth from a region of higher elevation in this perpetually expanding forest. The parallel east and west rills of the elevated cascading river flow far toward the trees forming the northern wall of this land that separates in the center for the inaccessible rock occupying the waterfall, before they diverge east and west once again, circumnavigating the east and west walls of abreast trees, into the endless unknown bounds of the forest. Despite how much grassclad turf there is void of tree growth in this wide sward, the branches atop the peaks of the tree walls permeate over the naked sky with indefinite eccentric length and enshroud near all omission above revealing the bright light of sun. The apparent flatness of the ceiling compels one to consider the leaves lacking thickness and depth, although from acknowledgment of the extravagant height of the bark and the stupendous awe stimulated wherefrom, it is inferred that the height of the tall boles may persist in growth beyond the lowest branch, greatly surpassing as far as what eyes can see, with altitude perhaps equivalent to or more than that of the bark unmarked by branches. In spite of the awe that should induce whatever inference to my mind, the magnitude of everything perceivable in this wondrous grove can remain naught but immeasurable.
In this rigid widespread glade, my trail comes to a cease at the bank of a spring, where the waterfall rushes undeviatingly into as the beating heart of the river, in the conduct that this wooded domain enclosed by the tree walls functions as the heart of the forest itself. The spring is outspread, yet shallow, and rounded at the bank. Had it not been for the waterfall to cohere with the north of the spring and the two opposing rivulets flowing at the northeast and northwest corners where the water deepens, a perfect circle would be the spring. The base of the waterfall is clouded with a layer of mist, fresh and clean, expanding outwardly and thinning as it levitates further from the pure pouring water. The spring sparkles with countless winks of light while beams of sunshine dance over the constant gentle ripples of the sacred river heart. Beneath the shallow pool lies a flat floor of white stone, put into emphasis from the shining transparent surface of water. Arousing my sight from the captivating burnished waters are the floating lights coming forth unheralded from all eaves of the forest and all angles of the surrounding trees, with some materializing from the flowing rivulets, drawing towards the center of the spring in a steady hover of elegance, as if by a nameless preternatural force of its existence.
What is this place? For an instant, my head is unable to turn. The fantastic spectacle of this environment has caught my eyes by the unyielding grip of its beauty and has refused to secure their release. All is received in an overwhelming breath of air that is not drawn from the world I know and inhabit. This forest, it is something that could only exist in my dreams, but the unreal beauty is so real that it is impossible to be a dream. It is a paradox that is too unexplainably puzzling to comprehend. Thus it is I resolve to believe in what my eyes behold. I know not where I am, how I was brought here, how this place came to be or the purpose of my presence, but my ignorance has contrived not a remote ounce of disquieting reluctance for me to herein abide.
As I gaze upon the crystal spring, there begets an endeavor to draw me nearer. I feel my heart absorbed by its pristine essence, as if imploring me to come and lave in its purity. From the depths of my subconscious, I approach the pool in steps of leisure. The crisp scent of spring water courses throughout my senses in the immaculate air. The closer I advance, the more I feel particles of soft mist fly from the fumes of the waterfall and clasp onto my skin, purifying my exterior. At final, I become aware of that which I desire. I strive to come in contact with this water. For my subjective perception, this is the destination I have been manipulated to seek by the entrancement of the forest subsequent to my eyes awakening to the undimmed light of the land. Do I tread within a dream and nothing more, merely a facade, an illusion of reality? In furtherance of seeking the truth, I must relinquish the inhibition of my discernment wherein all is assimilated through ocular vision, and I must harness a more disillusioning aspect of consciousness. I must thence transgress the confines of a dream and immerse myself into what I may truly convince myself to be real.
At length, I lower my left knee to the land of green, where it fades into the white stone basin of the spring. With it at its most shallow depth right before me, I insert four fingers of my right hand into the water, penetrating the surface. As I feel the cool invigorating temperature and alleviating texture of the water, an eerie chill engulfs my body in abruptness, fortifying my senses. I feel my life essence, my spirit, begin to lift, as if an insidious unseen entity is taking hold. I remove my fingers from the lucid water and raise them to allow the pure droplets of water to flow down my hand to my wrist, and after a brief absence of awareness from a refreshing pleasure, I descry the coming of a sudden transpiration. The center of the spring is beginning to rotate into a vortex, spinning outward at a gradual pace, steadily increasing in size. From a simple touch of physical contact, a whirlpool has arisen in this spring, giving it the form now of circular perfection. Have I disturbed the tranquility of the spring, the forest, with my overpowering curiosity? What is the cause, and what is the meaning, of this unintentional stimulation in this once placid water? The more rapid of its spin and the larger of its becoming prompts more the anticipation instilling me within. As the rotating current reaches the edge of the basin, I elevate myself to a standing and take steps away from the sunlight-flushed water thus may I sufficiently observe the progressive effects of my unintended disturbance.
I walk rearwards to an adequate vantage point and stand in a compound of awe and apprehension. As the eddy turns of its counter-clockwise motion, the lights of the forest eaves emerge from all about in abundance higher than ere, floating towards the spring and vanishing into the core of the vortex. The greater the quantum of luminous dots of colored light absorbed by the uncanny influence of the whirlpool I have inadvertently called forth, the further the accession of the strength in the wind. I gaze above and all around to mark the leaves of the trees stirring about with the forest zephyrs. The blades of grass forming the smooth gentle ground have become a rippling sea of green. The breeze of the wind builds in intensity, an elemental gust bred from the face of the waterfall. As intense and fervent as the blasts come to be, I perceive it is however of no manner furious or indignant in its vehemence. It is of no way unpleasant or afflictive to my senses. In all honesty, the comfort it brings to my skin incites a subliminal wish for a decline in any probability of desistance. The brush of the wind soothingly caresses my arms and face with assuasive intimacy, persuading me to permit my eyelids to lower and close while I raise my chin and bring forty-five degree angles to my arms. I am at a state of peace so tremendous with the risen speed of the wind; I attain the delight in curving a smile to my mouth. The longer I dwell within the bounds of the spirited wind; the wider the bending of my smile with comfort in exposing the teeth. Airborne I feel I have become, as if my feet and body in whole are levitating above ground, while my hair is cast off of my face with the drifting gust of the air. What contributes also to my sensations of internal and external serenity is yet another attribute held by the vessel of my subconscious. My ears have consequently come accustomed to the continually emitted incantations of the forests to the extent where the persistence of its sound has emphatically transcended my awareness. As the whirlpool of the spring cimcumvolutes meanwhile the vigorous winds breathe with a growth of alacrity, the melodious sounds heighten in volume. At this realization, I open my eyelids and relax my arms thus to focus my perceptions on my surroundings. The delicate voices I knew ere have amplified more prominently to my ears. It is as if light, nature, and even magic, are the instruments conducting this music, for the sounds are too enchanting and mystical to be the creations of a mortal being. The art invokes supernatural presence, as this mysterious sound manifests no provenance to what could possibly be an aspect of the world I know, but in contradiction to this consideration, from the incantations, a soft calming voice now projects itself into the wind, one that is seemingly produced by the auditory force of a human vocal, indicating the possible habituation of a conscious entity other than myself in this forest, but this vocal enchantment is delivered by no human. An angel, or an entity in possession of similar, if not more, preternatural beauty, could only convey an anthropomorphic song this magically beautiful. I believe not that angels exist, yet I believe not a paradise such as this world of sun-shimmering leaves could exist the same, so I suppose I do come convinced that all occurrences of this forest at this instant are of true reality to abrogate all distrust, in spite of my wonder and failure to understand the meaning of any, and all, of this phenomena. If the developing magnitude of the incantations is not of sufficiency to remark upon, the beams of light from above the forest ceiling of leaves are illuminating at a greater luminosity as well. The sunlight is erratically altering its primary white hue to a golden yellow hue of sharper brightness, as if twilight is now descending upon the forest. The behavioral patterns of the forest are simultaneous to where it appears as they all share an intention of signifying the occurrence of something even more extraordinary, or perhaps the introduction, or arrival, of something to reveal itself to me. As the forest comes to life right before my eyes and the remainder of my sensors through the phenomena of the earth, water, and air, the beating of my heart obtains the strength to reach the internal surface of my chest. Something is about to arise from the whirlpool, as it now emits from its circumference and center a mystical, glowing white luminescence.
My eyes are fixed and determined, unable to remove themselves from the spring. The stimulus of the sunlight gilded forest may be postulated as real with sufficiency to invalidate the incredulity of my senses, however, how could water possess the ability to emanate light? Before my very eyes, the crystal blue water alters its color to a stark gleaming white, as if a star has been born beneath its surface. The stone basin is veiled under light of shining opacity, and the once visible elegant fumes of the waterfall are now concealed. The light shimmers with an intensifying resplendence and expands from the pool in lengthening rays, and in a fraction of a heartbeat, it sparks to its superlative in brightness and an explosion of light permeates throughout the land. The luminous flash is so sharp and overwhelming that I instinctively and instantly raise up my right arm to shield my eyes, until it soon after begins to fade. Once the terrain of green comes into a cloudless view, innumerable tiny sparkling particles of colored light drift down from the air towards the ground in a curtain of radiant dust. The rays of sunshine from above retain their original hue. The wind digresses to its indifferent composure. I analyze my surroundings to conclude that all has returned as thus it was ere I submerged my hand into the cool medium, but ere I remain assured for too long, my observations confirm that the spring shall undertake resumption of its abnormal functions in an alternate demeanor. The water reverts to its prior tranquility and the whirlpool spins in a declination of speed and size until contracting to nothing, however, as the circumference of the rotation shrinks to the center of the spring, an individual ray of light shines outward from the center not unlike the sunlight from above; something is yet to incarnate unheralded from the water. A refulgent gray flare now arises from the light and suspends over the spring. The formless flare unfolds into a majestic gaseous aura, morphing bright into the shape of a humanoid entity. What could this conceivably be? A spectre? An angel? The soul of the forest? It appears to be...
...A dragon, in the form of mere spirit. In fragments of time, the dragon's vaporous aura evanesces to where naught but light radiates from its figure, which solidifies into a semitransparent state, as its appearance becomes clear enough to examine in every perceptible detail. It is beautiful. It treads airborne above the spring with elegance in a shining emphasis of beaming light, and its exterior is flushed with the chroma of moonlit silver. The length of its slender tail ascends to the back of its neck, and as it hovers amidst the vapors of the waterfall, the tail gently sways from side to side. Its pointed wings span as high as the top of its head and low as beneath its tail, on either side. Its ears are wavy and amphibious, pointed as well. Its eyes remain closed, as if it lingers in a slumber and its materialization failed to arouse it. Its mouth remains shut and inactive, with no fangs displayed. Hanging from both sides of its jaw are wide serrated tendrils, keened with three curved prongs. A bony ridge on its pointy snout separates its thin-slitted nostrils, and on the bottom of its chin lays a plate-like spike bent towards its chest. Its shoulders are spiked, as its claws are sharp. Bold patterns of lines signifying the resemblance of a transcendental entity are hewn in its neck, the crest of its snout, the bases of its tendrils, its spiked arms, its smooth knees and hips, and a narrow slate mounted upward on its chest. As I complete my observations, two open eyes of vivid emerald green meet my gaze. My heart skips a beat, and I hear the draconic humanoid speak.
"Welcome", says the dragon, "to my sanctuary. I presume that you inquire an understanding of who I am, and more importantly, where you are. The lights I dispersed throughout the forest to help guide you to this spring, thus you and I could encounter. Allow me to introduce myself." The dragon's mouth exhibits piercing fangs while it speaks with a delicate accent and a deep echoing voice, slowly and articulately. "I am the guardian spirit of this forest. I am the symbol of none other than the power of love. You, curious wanderer, are now within the vastness of your own heart. All that you see before you is merely the essence of your own bliss. This paradise, everything you see and everything you feel, is what exists within your heart. I am the creator of this forest. Love is that which is responsible for the creation of such sheer perfection of peace, happiness, and beauty. However, the love that dwells within you could have not given birth to this forest in its solitude. It was with your love and the love of another, fused together as one, that wielded the power to create this realm. When two souls of love are united eternally, my power is formed; the power to conceive paradise, the omnipresence of perfection, exemplified by all that exists around you, thereof all that exists inside you." The dragon spirit shut its eyes and smiled. "Oh wanderer of the depths of your own heart, I will reveal to you the collateral of my power. You shall dwell within this forest alone no longer. Behold, my eternal gift… to you." The dragon spirit raises its hands perpendicular to each other, beginning to conjure a shining sphere of luminous spell-craft between them. Flares of white and colored light emit themselves from the rotating energy ball, with a building increment of its size, rays of light cast in all directions, and consecrated celestial sounds resonating into the forest atmosphere, and after withdrawing its elbows, ere I could blink, the dragon spirit casts a powerful beam of illumination from the energy ball with a thrust of its clawed hands, and with an ultimate projection of vehement sound, yet another explosion of light blazons the entire world. I am completely enveloped by light, and for a few moments, my existence absconds from all space and time, and I see nothing but luminous oblivion, although when the illumination fades into sparkles of glimmering colored dust to gently descend to the ground before my eyes, something comes into view that was not here present in antecedence. The dragon spirit had taken its departure, but something else had superseded it, or more eminently, someone. She is facing the waterfall, standing before the spring. A young woman, with sleek hair, dressed in exquisite raiment of a white gown. Is this my eternal gift the dragon spirit spoke of? I transgress my frozen stance, taking a step towards her, but one step is yet all my legs bear the strength to implement. She turns her head to her left, and soon after, she moves her stance into my direction, her hair swinging over her face, as she stands looking upon me. I never thought I would come to believe it. Angels do exist, for there is one here, the quintessence of angelic existence, beheld of my conscious vision, lest it be deceived by some sorcery. Every trait this angel possesses is abounding with astonishing resplendent beauty. As I stare into her astoundingly admirable eyes, I feel as though I am staring directly into the sun, absent of the ability to fall into blindness or other sun-wrought detrimental infliction. She smiles, and my heart without mercy is liquidated to boiling puddle. She seems, somehow, familiar.
"Who... who are you?" I ask, timidly. Gracefully, while peering into my eyes, she approaches. I feel the whisper of the wind affectionately massage my skin. I feel the radiance of her beauty enrapture my soul as she draws as near as physical distance would allow. After a soft innocent blink of her eyes, she speaks, passionately and eloquently, with a voice that no being in the astronomical cosmos could hear without weeping and falling to his knees... "I am the one whom you love, and you are the one whom I love". She grasps hold of my hand, her fingers lacing with mine, and following a memorable moment of staring into the empyrean stars in her eyes, her eyes close, and by some inexplicit constellation of our souls, my eyes instinctively close as her own, although my vision stands undiminished. I feel her presence coming nigh, the light emanating by her skin shrouding over mine, and with a breath of warmth that evokes a massive eruption from the volcanoes in my heart and a supernova of all the stars throughout the infinite macrocosm, our lips link together, and our souls unite as one.
Thereafter, with the eternal gift of love, the gift of the dragon spirit, our united souls drift away into the everlasting bliss of the enchanted sunlit forest.
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Short Story / Horror
Short Story / Fantasy
Short Story / Horror
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