Into the forest the boy went.
The beauteous orange of an Autumn dusk surrounded him.
Crackling leaves and a woody breeze announced their presence.
He walked with little reluctance.
But soon, the forest; she grew cold.
And with it came the enshrouding darkness.
Her sister, the moon, was the only source of light.
But even she, the Goddess of Purity, proclaimed just how maddening the hour was.
And maddened the boy was!
For the trees with their thin, clawing arms tore at him.
“Nay,” they wailed, “nay, stay away.”
Although he wept, onwards he stumbled.
Deeper and deeper he delved.
But yes! There it was. The cause of many a tormented year:
A grand tree whose leaves bore all the colours of the spectrum.
“What say you?” the boy asked.
Nothing stirred in her.
“I said ‘WHAT SAY YOU?'” His rage echoed about him.
The silence decided his ensuing move.
Taking a knife, he cut out his heart and nailed it to her trunk.
Upon completion of the deed, he strode.
With a malicious grin he returned to world to which he now belonged.
Stephen Riordan. (Circa 2013).