The Forest: Part 1

Fast and ever approaching, the gentlemen rode. A thin arm wiped sweat from his painted face, and the only thing I could think of was the whistle. The tallest of the two dismounted first and looked my pregnant sister right in the eyes. She stumbled backwards somewhat, and the man burst into rusty laughter. I held my sister and reassured her with a soft whisper. I glared over at the man, and his faced seemed very odd in that moment. Flaking brown paint glistened in the midday sun, and I inquired why he would bother to decorate his face in this manner. His dark eyes snapped back at me and a demented smile formed in the corner of his mouth. The clouds drifted along in the sky. Two words were uttered, "Wake up." According to the words of wise men, the statue of a sleeping giant rests at the furthest point of the woods that overlook the edge of the world. In my thousand year existence, I have never seen such a thing. From a distance, the most I can make of this legend is that there are, in fact, no wise men. No such thing. On the contrary, I must tell you that wisdom, in whatever form, does exist, but no man contains it. Well, at least not anymore. I finished speaking with the trees seconds before the sun crept away so the moon could explore the empty night sky. I disappeared into the darkness and hoped for a chance to experiment with my new found sense of enlightenment. My fingers burned with electricity, and my eyes were sporadic with madness. The trees seemed even more stagnant as I raced past them and aroused their branches out of an eternal dormancy. The only sound for miles was my clumsy laughter. I nearly flipped the entire world upside down as I ran that night. The night came to life as my speed awoke each sleeping tree and encouraged the green out of the frozen ground.