Ode to Fantasy

Shh… This is Secret

Technically, this is a sneak peek at an unfinished work. At least, there is another version of this story that will one day be an animated short, if only because that is the medium I first envisioned the story in, and I still think it’s most impactful that way. But I wrote it up in short story format as well because I think it’ll be a long time before I have the skills, connections, and help to really make the other vision available to people. It’s great practice too, since it forced me to focus a bit more on what a “short story” really needs and what one can do without.

Anyway, please enjoy.

My Ode to Fantasy

Long ago, in a land far away where the mountains thrust skyward like turrets from within deep valleys of verdant green and sparkling waters, a knight wandered in the midst of a thick forest. He marched on and on, passed cyprus and conifer and maple and oak, but always there was a tree beyond the last, another bush, another ravine. There seemed no end to the overhanging boughs and slopes, whether he traveled uphill or down. 

For some time now, he’d quested uphill, in the hopes of finding a lookout point or the summit, from which he might spy the land, but having lost hope in that endeavor, he’d allowed his leaden legs to lead him across the slopes and down. Perhaps his spirit would lead where his faculties had failed. As it was, he lacked the energy to do more than keep his feet moving, as his wounds sapped his strength and will, and the endless trees mocked his efforts. If he did not eat soon, he would surely collapse, and in a mere few hours become food for some other, heartier creature.

At a shift in the light, he glanced up nervously, and through the trees he caught a glint of the westering sun around a large looming structure. A tower it was, pale and regal, peeking through the trees, uncowed by their abundance. A hint of human presence. With a last burst of effort, the knight stumbled forward eagerly. 

As his boots clopped onto the cobbled bridgeway before the entrance to the tower, the knight paused, amazed. Backlit by the sun, the tower seemed to glow with its own light, dazzling and warm, like a welcoming smile from a fair face. Indeed, there was a distinctly feminine feel to the place, ill-concealed by the fallen leaves coating the walkway and the weather stains around the windows. 

“Surely, someone fair lives in so fair a place,” he thought. A vision of warm bread and steaming stew, set on the table before him by thin arms and hands that flowed like a stream through the air, rose before his eyes. He hastened forward as a slow smile began to spread on his face. 

The heavy wooden door at the base of the tower gave way before his hand, and he saw inside three paths forward. To the left and right stood elegant arches with pointed crowns at their zenith. These seemed to lead deep inside the tower, and down beneath the tower, respectively. The final arch stood before him. All was dim, but he thought he could see a stair step twisting up into the dimness in this last arch, and he moved forward with caution, suddenly caught in a bout of unease. 

Why did the fair lady of this tower have no guards at her door? Perhaps he should offer his services? He had no doubt that his former vows had been fulfilled on the battlefield where he’d been left for dead. The thought of taking up another’s service so soon had seemed unbearable as he’d meandered the woods, but if it was for her… perhaps not. They could help each other. He imagined the relieved smile she’d offer at his suggestion, and found that the staircase offered far less challenge than the steep slopes outside had. 

Indeed the tower was very empty, and as he climbed, he saw how she would have had to use these stairs herself. She’d descend and ascend with large baskets of laundry piled high with brightly colored dresses, carefully sidled up with her meals balanced on an elegant silver tray, and slowly wound her way down, battering the piles of dust down the stairs before her like a mighty king putting his enemies to flight.  He saw her pause and glanced out one bright window, through which the setting sun gleamed. As he drew abreast of the same window, he glanced outside at the dark mountain peaks and scattered clouds bathed in pink and gold, purple and red, adorned with more beauty than any queen. The clouds seemed to make a certain shape above the sharp teeth of the mountains, and the knight thought that the shape was uncannily like his own silhouette. How often had she seen it, and patiently awaited his arrival?

He would make her wait no more. He was fairly bounding up the steps now, and his mind was awake and excited as it filled with bright white teeth that peeked out from her lips when she smiled, the  swirl of her dresses as she danced, and the sound of her effervescent laughter. But his hand also tightly grasped the sword at his side as he considered the nameless fears that kept her locked away in the lonely, if lovely, tower. It rose in his mind’s eye, a dark figure, perhaps a man of some kind, with gleaming red eyes and a fell voice like the strike of a blacksmith’s hammer. He drew his sword, his heart hammering. He would defeat the enemy, whatever their nature, and free the innocent resident. Suddenly, light pierced through the gloom of the staircase, announcing the rapidly widening mouth of the staircase’s end above. He reached his hand forward, whether to grasp or to ward, he could not say, as he burst through the blinding light.

All was a startled quiet as his eyes adjusted. He stood in a circular room, the pinnacle of the tower. On every side, wide windows looked out on the forest and mountains beyond, making the room seem larger than it was. 

There was nothing there. Just the stone and glass, the dust, dried leaves and cobwebs. Now the quiet seemed lifeless, even deadly, as the knight came to realize that for all its fairness or fine condition, he stood in a vacant tower, and the fair maiden, not to mention her tormentor, was not here, if she existed at all. 

Dazed, he approached the window, watching as the sun sank behind the mountains, his heart and hopes sinking with it. The mountains he saw stood opposite a deep valley. In the lingering light he could make out a river far below glittering cheerfully even in the twilight, and a small reddish light glinted beside it.

The knight descended the tower. He retraced his path over the bridgeway. He re-entered the forest. He did not look back at the tower, knowing that it now stood dark against the graying sky and gloaming forest.

About an hour later, his boots crunched loudly onto gravel as he emerged from the forest. He now stood on a path, a well-kept road that ran alongside the wide river he’d spotted from the tower’s top. The reddish light glowed brighter and stronger now, hanging suspended before the large, dark shape of an inn. Tavern music could just be heard within, and the smell of roasting meat floated in intermittent bursts on the fitful breezes. The knight’s stomach growled and his whole being pressed towards the reprieve before him, but he stopped and turned to look back. High up on the dark mountain slopes behind him, a thin sliver of pale stone could be seen in the light of the risen moon, ethereal as a Will -o’-the-Wisp. 

Had he really stood on those enchanting stones, or had he imagined that as well? Well, so what if he had? It had still saved him from the forest of despair, had shown him the river and the path, and given him the energy to reach this respite.

He blew the distant tower a kiss, and faced the inn and the journey ahead, donning a brave smile.

The End

Thanks for reading, and may it be that even when you don’t get what you want, you receive what you need.

With grins,