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In writing a story, the only limitation is the extent of your imagination. I always used to wish I could write a story. I would sit down and think up the beginning of some magical tale and start to furiously scrawl it out, only to have the story disappear under my pen. I used to sit there with my mind blank, wishing that I was limitlessly imaginative, and that stories would jump out of my mind onto the page and bubble with life, instead of failing and falling short even of reality.
Now as I sit down to write the story of my short life, I realize that it is far more daring and adventurous than any fairytale I could hope to create. The only problem I can come across in writing my story is incredulity in my readers. But it is not a sin to believe, only to doubt the truth. Come, relive with me.
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My story begins on what seemed to be the most unimportant day of my life. It was a mundane day, everything ordinary, and nothing unusual. A real day, and a quiet day. Days like these are what we, as regular people, live and breathe. They are where we become who we are, and show our characters and weaknesses in the realest way. Someone, watching us live on ordinary days like this, would come to understand who we really are, without any acting or pretense.
I certainly wasn’t pretending. I was cross, good and mad at everybody. It was cold and cloudy, and the rain came down, not in torrents, but in lazy drizzles, drenching the world with cold monotony. It seemed to me as if I had been sweeping up all day, and that everyone else was bent on tracking in as much mud as was humanly possible. Finally I threw the broom against the wall in frustration and ran upstairs, hiding in the window and staring out across the desolate rainy land. Soon something caught my eye; a small grey car drove up the long windy road towards the house, and slowly came to a stop in the drive. Then a man got out, trudged up the gravel walk with his thick rubber boots, and knocked heavily on the door. He was carrying a small package under his arm. I left my perch at the window and came downstairs. My Aunt had just opened the door to let the man inside and he came in, never bothering to wipe his boots at all.
“I have a package for Miss Meredith Noble,” he said, glancing around the dimly lit room and squinting down at all the little children who seemed to coming piling out of the cupboards to stand grinning up at him. It was the most exciting thing that had happened to them all day. I stepped forward. “I am ‘Miss Noble,’” I said, holding out my hand for the little package. “Oh, but of course,” he said, ‘You can’t take the package yet. You must sign your name here in acknowledgment first.” “In acknowledgment of what?” I asked, leaning against the door frame. “In acknowledgement of the fact that you have received this package, and promise to do everything written down in this letter.” He produced a blotchy envelope and waved it high in the air. I blinked. “Excuse me, but what’s in the letter that I have to agree to?” “It’s not for me to say. You can’t read it until after you’ve agreed and if you don’t agree you don’t get the package. If you don’t get the package, well… who knows what will happen then!” He coughed twice.
I always was of a curious personality. Not agreeing to the terms wasn’t an option, however ridiculous they may seem. I thought about it for a good two seconds, and realized that even if I thought about it for a century, there was no possibility I would end up sending the package away without looking at what might be inside. I signed my name and took the package and the letter that came with it. When I opened the letter in my own private room the very next minute, I read this:
“Miss M. Noble,
You are the chosen one. By signing your name, you have promised to obey the following instructions:
1. Be in the dark forest tonight at midnight, alone.
2. Open the small package that comes with this letter.
3. Take what you find therein, and obey the instructions with it.
4. Tell no one.
Do not attempt to break your word. You have no realization of the consequences which will fall to you if you ignore your promise (which you made upon such little consideration). Momentary decisions are often the most important, and in this case will decide the fate of thousands.
If you had not agreed to take this responsibility upon yourself, your grave error would have had unencompassable results. We thank you for your impulsive step.
This last grave injunction we lay upon you: Be brave. Remember that your fate is already sealed, and that however hard you may try, you can do nothing to avoid it. Be courageous with what you have been given, and your name will go down through the ages as one of glory. Play the coward, and your doom will be harsh, and your name a disgrace.
Go through terror unyielding, and you will be worthy of the name which you have been given.
You will not be alone. Help and guidance will be given you.
Signed,
The three.”
It was many hours later that I finally escaped from the house and all the duties of home, and made my way out into the night. I didn’t know of a place by the name of the “dark forest”, but I quickly found my favorite spot under my special tree, a great giant oak, and sat on the ground with my back against the course, rough wood. Taking the package from under my arm, I caught my breath and tried to control the ungovernable fear rising up within me. It was only ten minutes to twelve, and though each one seemed an age I dreaded the time when midnight would strike. Strongly excited as I was, I had no possible idea of what awaited me, and my nervousness was running away with me. Every breath was terror filled, and the cold of the night chilled me through and through.
As I sat there, I thought about my life up until that point, and how unexciting and drab it had been. I at the same time hoped and feared that tonight’s adventure would turn out to be nothing but a prank; but the fear was stronger. I didn’t want to sink back into the obscurity in which I had spent all my life. My reverie broke as I heard the distant clock strike twelve, and I knew the time had come. My fingers shook when I tried to undo the package and the string that bound it seemed tied in unmanageable knots. When they were finally undone, I took off the paper and drew out a dark wooden box. I could barely see, but as I opened the lid of the box I could just tell by the light of the moon that inside was a key. A large golden key. I reached in and took it in my hand; it was weighty and cold. Inside the box was a paper that read:
“Fate is with you. The key you hold in your hand opens the door to a world that is new to you, but older than the earth’s hills. As you sit with your back against this tree, you need only take a step to find what awaits you. Stand up and fit the key into the lock. You will find the door, for it is not chance that guides your hand.
Courage, friend.”
I stood up, and reached out my hand to feel the tree’s rough exterior; as I strained my eyes in the darkness, I soon found something I had never seen before on this old and well known tree. It was a keyhole. I took a deep breath, and put the key in the lock. Then I turned it.
As I did so, a small door in the tree trunk swung open, while a bright warm light flooded the darkness. After my eyes had adjusted to the brightness, I could see inside the doorway and through it to what was beyond: a whole new world; it was beautiful. There was no choice. I stepped inside, and the door noiselessly swung shut behind me.
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