Days In Black

Frantically, I dug through the pile of Yellow Dry Leaves, but my efforts were fruitless.

I sat on the tombstone clutching my chest; the Thief had long stolen the Red Leaf of Autumn. The hollow dead trees cried out for its return; they blamed my weak arm for the loss.

I did not bother to pacify them. Cursing, I ran out of the Shady Place of Rest in search of what was lost. The Woods were deep, and it was not kind to strangers.

A day and a half I searched, and the only clue that crossed my path was a Glowing White Pearl.

The imposing trees cleared me a path, and led me to the Vast Desert beyond. Under velvet skies, I overheard the stars whisper forgotten secrets to the dunes, but I had more pressing concerns on my mind.

Fortunately, the night Breeze was an old friend, and it led me to The Waiting Rock. The Rock refused to help, but upon my insistence and the subtle persuasion of the Breeze, it did confide to me the trail of the Thief.

I would have to hurry, Dusk the Liar was seeping away into the horizon.

The Desert was not used to company, and it refused any comfort to its unwanted visitor. I did not blame the Sands for their reluctance; I dreamed the night away beside a soft fire, but Sleep seemed to be busy elsewhere, and did not come to me this night.

Dawn awoke to find me well on my way towards the Noisy Village.

I hated the Noisy Village for its myriad inhabitants were all deaf, dumb and blind, and yet, there was not a moment of peace within its decaying confines.

There in the Shop of Lost Things, I did purchase word of my Thief with the length of Rope that had held me strong.

I was told the Thief had stopped by this very shop, in search of swift transport to the North.

I set off for those Lone Mountains with a pouch of rice and grim resolve; and within a Snail’s week, I had arrived at those white peaks.

Those shimmering passes were stern with my efforts, and the snow too sought to slow my passage.

But eventually I stood at the threshold of the Meadow of Ice, tucked away in its lonely valley.

In the center of the Frost Garden stood, as promised, my elusive Thief, staring lost in thought at its stolen prize.

I asked for the Red Autumn Leaf, whereupon the Thief met my gaze hesitatingly. We stood there in silence, judging each other until the moonlight immersed the Frost Garden in its soft unearthly light.

Once more, I asked for what was mine.

The Thief asked me if I had found the Glowing White Pearl. I didn’t answer.

She looked at me with those distant eyes and apologized; and told me she had no idea I cared so much for one mere leaf.

She asked how cruel was I to come after her all this way, just to take back even so small token.

The Glowing White Pearl lost its luster and turned a deep crimson, before shattering into countless fragments.

She then lifted the Leaf into the windless air, and it drifted down to rest at my feet.

There, she turned into a statue of the clearest ice, frozen forever more.

Encased in her crystal armor she didn’t even wait for my answer. I stood there in regret; as the lightest snow did start to fall from that cruel sky.

At my feet, the Red Leaf slowly faded to a colorless grey.

The silence was deafening.

On the long journey back, I had never felt wearier; even my thoughts were no longer my own.

At last I arrived at the woods and came back to my Shady Place of Rest once more. The hollow dead trees were silent.

I put the Colorless Leaf in an old faded pouch and buried it at the foot of the nameless tombstone.

Sometimes, when I visit the Shady Place, I sit beside the tombstone in silence and that Colorless Leaf flits through my thoughts, though I know that I had long since given up the right to hold it in my hands.