The magical forest

Once upon a time, there was a magical forest. In this forest, magic remained hidden, revealing itself only once a year to one person capable of seeing it: the wanderer. On ordinary days, the forest appeared just like any other, adorned with trees, mushrooms, and rocks. Yet, on this extraordinary day, if you were to gaze upon it, it would still appear ordinary. The trees would stand tall, the mushrooms would remain small, and the rocks would stay hard.

However, once a year, for the wanderer’s eyes alone, the forest transformed. The trees exuded sap that warmed the palate, the mushrooms whispered secrets, and the rocks danced in harmony with the wind. The wanderer would come to the forest to pray for safety on their journey. They would sleep beneath the protective canopy of the trees, serenaded by the forest’s lullabies. For the wanderer, the forest was home.

One year, the wanderer returned to the forest once more. This time, weariness clung to them, burdened by wrong turns, lengthy roads, and unexpected detours from the previous year. The wanderer tasted the sap from the trees, but it was cold and sour. They strained to hear the whispers of the mushrooms but found only silence. They searched for the movement of the rocks, but the wind failed to carry them. The wanderer questioned if they had taken another wrong turn, embarking on yet another detour.

Despite this, the wanderer chose to stay the night, praying to rediscover the familiar forest whose magic only they could perceive. However, the forest did not sing its lullabies like it once had. So the wanderer sang to the forest instead, beckoning it to return home.

This is a story I drafted in 30 minutes for fun. Thank you for reading!