At nine years old, Chandler Leighamoore lives carefree on her family's homestead, chasing sprites and scheming alongside her brother, Sawyer. She's mysteriously drawn to the vicious woodlands surrounding them but is shackled by Papa's only rule: nev...
That afternoon my father came to me with fresh garlic from the garden. I knew where this was going, it was routine for me and my siblings. Preparing for dark. When the darkness came and the moon rose, so did what lurked within the Blackthorn.
"Help me lay out the garlic and salt." He said. I took the two heads from his hands and broke the cloves up between my thumbs.
Isaac helped me draw water from the well to use with the garlic. The process of peeling the skins and dividing the cloves was time consuming but in the end it left us with the relief that we'd be able to sleep at night. With garlic paste in one hand and salt in the other my mind wandered back to the sprites.
"Do you think they'll show themselves tonight?" A voice from behind me asked. It was Sawyer.
I shrugged and looked out over the line of trees that separated Arywn from the monsters of the Blackthorn. "I can't say."
"Do you believe father when he says the sprites aren't real?" He asked, a steady stream of salt coming from his fist, dusting the ground below the window with white coarse grain.
"No." I said, "He just doesn't see the world the way—" I stopped, Sawyer noticed my silence.
"He doesn't see the world the way...what?" He asked. I silenced him and listened closer to the rustle of the grasses and looming silence among the trees. The faint distant ringing of bells reached my ears.
"What's wrong?"
"Sawyer can you shut it for a moment?!" I hissed angrily, hunching low in the grass, "Do you hear that." Then I saw it, the dying glow in the tall grass. The glow of a sprite.
"A sprite!" I declared dropping the salt and running off. All other noise was tuned out. I couldn't hear my brother calling after me. It was all drowned out by the soft bells of the sprites speaking. That was how they sounded to humans anyways.
I shoved the grass aside and sure enough two sprites were admiring the objects Sawyer and I had left for them. The cake was gone from the thimble, eaten already. I crouched low and stayed silent. Until Sawyer caught up to me.
"Chandler!" He called loudly, startling the sprites.
"No! Wait!" I shouted. They flew off, their hazy glow streaking behind them, dissipating in the wind. I threw my hands at my brother, smacking him right in the arm.
"You idiot! We had them!" Sawyer cowered back from my raised palm, but I hesitated and looked back at the woods. Surely they couldn't have flown far? I thought to myself.
"I'm going after them." I said, pulling my sleeves down and tightening the laces on my boots. Just as I turned to leave Sawyer grabbed at my arm.
"You know not to go in there! You could get hurt."
I shoved him away, "I don't care. I'm going in and don't you dare speak a word about this to father." The last thing I heard were my own boots crunching through the underbrush.
»»————————————««
The Blackthorn seemed to be a separate world of its own. The silence of the forest was suffocating. I found it almost impossible to breathe. The trees grew close to one another, allowing for little light left to penetrate through the canopy. I could see the glowing lights of the sprites just up ahead. My heart began to beat faster as I rethought my decision to follow them. Were the sprites worth this much to me coming into the forest?
"Chandler!" It was my father's voice calling out to me.
The frightened child in me broke down in tears and cowered. Suddenly I had forgotten all about the sprites. They weren't important anymore. My father's voice grew closer and closer, finally I saw him. He scooped me up in his arms.
"Chandler what are you doing out here?" He demanded. Through my unintelligible sobs it was a miracle my father even understood me.
My tears had drained me of my energy and I woke wrapped in a blanket next to the fire.
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