Post by fritter on Jan 8, 2020 3:18:04 GMT
The forest was teeming with sound. The chirps and trills of birdsong filtered through the leaves, a bubbling brook sounded merrily along the forest floor, squirrels chattered amongst themselves in the branches, and the soft sobs of a small child came from a hollow tree.
Penelope sat within the tree, her fiery red curls knotted and tangled with twigs from running through the woods with reckless abandon. Her clothes were dirtied and her feet were bare, and her face was flushed and puffy from the tears that continued to roll down her cheeks.
Dead.
He was dead.
Penny had been getting ready for bed when the door to her room had opened. She turned, expecting her father as he had been coming to tuck her in more and more frequently as of late. But instead she was greeted with the somber expression of one of the handmaids. The kind old woman had sat her down on the edge of her bed, and relayed the news.
"There was an accident."
What?
"Its your father."
...no. No. No!
What happened after was a blur. She had just started running. And running. Her feet had carried her towards the forest where she had first run away from home. Back when she and her father had a more strained relationship. But he had been trying to be a better dad, Penny knew. He would tuck her in at night, and tell her stories as he filed down her horns or bound her wings. He gave her dresses, like a proper lady, and took her to balls and social events. That's what good fathers did, right? But now... hers was gone.
And she was alone.
No mother. No father. Did she even have any friends?
A new wave of sobs overcame Penny, and she buried her head in her arms, curls forming a curtain around her. Her small frame shook with each cry, and her wails echoed out of the hollow tree into the surrounding woods.
Penelope sat within the tree, her fiery red curls knotted and tangled with twigs from running through the woods with reckless abandon. Her clothes were dirtied and her feet were bare, and her face was flushed and puffy from the tears that continued to roll down her cheeks.
Dead.
He was dead.
Penny had been getting ready for bed when the door to her room had opened. She turned, expecting her father as he had been coming to tuck her in more and more frequently as of late. But instead she was greeted with the somber expression of one of the handmaids. The kind old woman had sat her down on the edge of her bed, and relayed the news.
"There was an accident."
What?
"Its your father."
...no. No. No!
What happened after was a blur. She had just started running. And running. Her feet had carried her towards the forest where she had first run away from home. Back when she and her father had a more strained relationship. But he had been trying to be a better dad, Penny knew. He would tuck her in at night, and tell her stories as he filed down her horns or bound her wings. He gave her dresses, like a proper lady, and took her to balls and social events. That's what good fathers did, right? But now... hers was gone.
And she was alone.
No mother. No father. Did she even have any friends?
A new wave of sobs overcame Penny, and she buried her head in her arms, curls forming a curtain around her. Her small frame shook with each cry, and her wails echoed out of the hollow tree into the surrounding woods.
