Random Stuff I've Written For the Fun of It

The Woodsmen (Writing Exercise)

"I know of a woods

My child

Where all winds frolic merry and wild.

You'd never hear a man-made sound

As magic and mirrors

All surround."

The woodsmen walk by my window at night. They are tall and strong with pensive faces. I am the only one who ever sees them. Myths from our village are scarce, so the woodsmen are often debated by the children as they go to sleep in the evening and by the elderly meeting to play Nine Men's Morris in the town square in the purple afternoon light. The woodsmen, it is said, are ghosts from that land beyond the mist come back to protect our land when they are needed. The housewives argue that there are woodswomen too, but the men scoff at this notion. Despite the constant jabber on this topic, the woodsmen are most discussed when times are dark. They give us a sense of hope.

I see the woodsmen every night now. They walk to the border, where land meets sea in silence, cloaked in shadow. I look through the windows of my room at their turned backs and shields facing the water. They do not carry weapons. I look out at the sea, turned iridescent black by the sky, moon, and stars. The waves crash on the sand, sending sea spray into the air like wickedly beautiful butterflies falling from the sky.

One night, as the woodsmen are walking by, one turns and looks me in the eye. I raise my shield, ready. The housewives got the last laugh after all.