A little folk tale type story I wrote six years ago and recently revised. I took off the frills and stripped it down to the bare bones. Simplicity is a virtue in stories, as far as I'm concerned, though complexity has its place.
The Two Villages.
Once upon a time it happened. Where did it happen? Where indeed did it not happen? There were two villages, one lying to the east, the other to the west, and in-between them stood an old forest. Hidden in the forest was a cottage that no-one knew about, and in which no-one lived, and no-one had ever lived there, though it had been there for a long time. The people regularly passed through the forest, going back and forth between their villages, but no-one ever found the cottage.
A boy and a girl, brother and sister, lived in the eastern village, and a boy and a girl likewise in the western village. They were friends and often played together, and one day they ran into the forest, play-hiding from each other.
The boy from the east found the cottage and was very surprised, but he boldly approached one of its windows and peered in. It was completely dark inside and he couldn't make anything out; the light from the window didn't affect the dark one bit. He looked up, and on the other side of the house, exactly opposite, was another window. The boy from the west was standing there peering in also and they both saw each other at the same time. From out of the dark woods behind his friend, the boy from the east saw something small and white approaching through the air towards him. He lifted his hand to point in warning, but was unnerved when his friend did likewise. He whirled round and saw the pale head of a hag speeding towards him, wearing a haughty and vicious expression.
Not long after this, both the sisters came to the cottage, too. They were together and they went round it in opposite directions to find their brothers. They each came to the windows at the same time, and found their brothers, but not as they were. The once plain and dusty old windows were now gleaming stained glass, and the faces of the boys were pictured there, still frozen with fear, in rich, jewel-like colours. But only their heads were there, disembodied.
The girls ran away, terrified, and kept running till they were out of the woods. They agreed to meet the next day, on the road that skirted the woods, then went their separate ways to tell their families what had happened.
The girl from the east walked quickly through her village, out of breath, and because of her worry and fear she didn't notice how quiet it was. There were no people around, and doors sat open, but in her hurry and worry she paid no mind.
With relief she came to her house, went in through the open door and straight through to the living room. At first it was like there was nobody home, and she started to turn to call out. But something caught her eye, something making a semi-circle in front of the fireplace. It was the heads of her family, every member of her household, blackened, burnt and hairless from fire, though the ashes were cold.
She ran again, out of the house, her screams and gowls disappearing through the empty streets, falling on no ears. In and out of the houses she darted, hopefully and fearfully, looking for help. In one house there were heads on the dining chairs, and cold, un-eaten meals on the table. In another the heads filled the bathtub to the brim. In another they hung together threaded on a single rope over the staircase, like several chestnuts on a single string.
There were no bodies anywhere.
She stood out in the middle of the road, jostled by the strong wind and half-blinded by the dust of the road, and she'd lost all her hope and senses.
Glinting light caught her eye, and she saw coming towards her the headless body of her friend the boy from the west. The glint had come off the sword he was carrying, and he strode up to her so fast that she barely had time to move before he cut off her head. He caught it by its golden hair, lifted it onto his neck, and when he let it go it stayed there.
Her eyes opened again, and she had never seen the world look so beautiful before.
The next day, the two girls met on the road skirting the forest as promised, their heads on the boys' bodies. The brothers caressed their sisters' cheeks affectionately, and they went into the forest and made the dark, hidden cottage their home. The boys' stained glass faces were peaceful, and their heads sat on the stained glass bodies of their sisters.
And if they haven't gone, then they're surely still there.
The Two Villages.
Once upon a time it happened. Where did it happen? Where indeed did it not happen? There were two villages, one lying to the east, the other to the west, and in-between them stood an old forest. Hidden in the forest was a cottage that no-one knew about, and in which no-one lived, and no-one had ever lived there, though it had been there for a long time. The people regularly passed through the forest, going back and forth between their villages, but no-one ever found the cottage.
A boy and a girl, brother and sister, lived in the eastern village, and a boy and a girl likewise in the western village. They were friends and often played together, and one day they ran into the forest, play-hiding from each other.
The boy from the east found the cottage and was very surprised, but he boldly approached one of its windows and peered in. It was completely dark inside and he couldn't make anything out; the light from the window didn't affect the dark one bit. He looked up, and on the other side of the house, exactly opposite, was another window. The boy from the west was standing there peering in also and they both saw each other at the same time. From out of the dark woods behind his friend, the boy from the east saw something small and white approaching through the air towards him. He lifted his hand to point in warning, but was unnerved when his friend did likewise. He whirled round and saw the pale head of a hag speeding towards him, wearing a haughty and vicious expression.
Not long after this, both the sisters came to the cottage, too. They were together and they went round it in opposite directions to find their brothers. They each came to the windows at the same time, and found their brothers, but not as they were. The once plain and dusty old windows were now gleaming stained glass, and the faces of the boys were pictured there, still frozen with fear, in rich, jewel-like colours. But only their heads were there, disembodied.
The girls ran away, terrified, and kept running till they were out of the woods. They agreed to meet the next day, on the road that skirted the woods, then went their separate ways to tell their families what had happened.
The girl from the east walked quickly through her village, out of breath, and because of her worry and fear she didn't notice how quiet it was. There were no people around, and doors sat open, but in her hurry and worry she paid no mind.
With relief she came to her house, went in through the open door and straight through to the living room. At first it was like there was nobody home, and she started to turn to call out. But something caught her eye, something making a semi-circle in front of the fireplace. It was the heads of her family, every member of her household, blackened, burnt and hairless from fire, though the ashes were cold.
She ran again, out of the house, her screams and gowls disappearing through the empty streets, falling on no ears. In and out of the houses she darted, hopefully and fearfully, looking for help. In one house there were heads on the dining chairs, and cold, un-eaten meals on the table. In another the heads filled the bathtub to the brim. In another they hung together threaded on a single rope over the staircase, like several chestnuts on a single string.
There were no bodies anywhere.
She stood out in the middle of the road, jostled by the strong wind and half-blinded by the dust of the road, and she'd lost all her hope and senses.
Glinting light caught her eye, and she saw coming towards her the headless body of her friend the boy from the west. The glint had come off the sword he was carrying, and he strode up to her so fast that she barely had time to move before he cut off her head. He caught it by its golden hair, lifted it onto his neck, and when he let it go it stayed there.
Her eyes opened again, and she had never seen the world look so beautiful before.
The next day, the two girls met on the road skirting the forest as promised, their heads on the boys' bodies. The brothers caressed their sisters' cheeks affectionately, and they went into the forest and made the dark, hidden cottage their home. The boys' stained glass faces were peaceful, and their heads sat on the stained glass bodies of their sisters.
And if they haven't gone, then they're surely still there.
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adam,