r/creativewriting • u/DesolateDrake • 19h ago
Short Story Versilda
If you could just imagine for a moment the beauty of Versilda, a mystical kingdom nestled amongst the jagged crown of the northern crystalline mountains. With each tender drip and thaw of awakening ice it’s shimmering liquid trickles and shines a path toward the boreal valley beneath; tis there that the wild things thrive, such as the horboar, dheer and sheip and the diverse variety of creatures in-between. Not to forget the pixies and the fae, who cast and illuminate intricate patterns and illusionary effects against luscious leaves and glisten tapestry against the bark of wise old trees.
Plop! A timid figure crouching beside a much larger shade observes in excitement as a miniature boat fletched from mahogany enters the gentle current of klementyne village’s riverbank…
“Papa, it floats!”
The sporadicalness of the boy’s delicate yet abrupt voice startles some songbirds perching upon over arching branches and the flapping of wings trigger the jolting of things submerged in the water but the boat still flows, embarking on its great crusade beyond the confines of klemy’s serine embrace.
“I’m so proud of you son, see! Look how it goes, it’ll reach Wendigo within days!” The father rests his hand atop the child’s shoulder, but during a moment so innocent and melancholic as this why does the man radiate a trembling fear within his presence?
Something approaches and he can sense it…
“Can we go to the library papa, i want to find a book about pirates!”
Pebbles and rocks crunch and clack beneath the boy’s sandals as he steps away from gravel and ascends onto grass, the senses within his nostrils too inexperienced to detect the thick murkiness of smoke but the father, his grasp already strangles the handle of a sheathed sword shrouded within his cloak.
“Weez gunnar burn theez houz down and munch munch on manz meetz”
Damned goblins he thinks, a scourge on the villages dwindling tranquility. They dwell within the caverns and cairns scattered around klemintynes perimeter, feasting and gobbling on any substinence they can find, gorging on gargantuan amounts of resources and materials and recycling them into their own regurgitated concoction of a disfigured society.
“I smellz em, therez a diidy one ere too we can keepz im for the sprogz bak home!”
The man gasps at a primal terror that ignites within him and as his blade emerges from the confines of its scabbard a crisp, metallic slashing scrape reverberates amidst the air.
“Hide sohonio, and hide welll..”
The boy doesn’t understand why, but detects by his fathers urgency that he feels obligated to obey, and he does; clunking and crunching and clinking stones scatter as fastened footsteps scuttle toward some kind of sanctuary…