Hallo-Zine Fall 2021
Heartfire
Written by Ryan Wada Illustrated by Kelsey Ward
8
Always the crunching of the leaves. Honestly, that’s what stuck in Will’s mind the most, his boots crunching on leaves. Part of the reason he got his red leather boots, the crunch they’d make in the leaves. Great evergreens towered upwards. Every inhale felt like the great outdoors, but then again, wasn’t it? Will almost missed the trail, and even when he tromped on it, his puffy black jacket snagging on redberry bushes , he almost veered off the cliff to his right. He didn’t quite remember putting everything on in the morning, but he looked just like he did some 12 years ago, almost the spitting image. Eyes were a bit more tired, nothing new for Will, his knees ached, but they did way back when he reached the apparently old age of 19. Still, the leaves always told him, this is the woodlands, this is sanctuary, some people thought dew, some the branches or the critters that darted across the boughs, just leaves for Will. Had to be the right amount of dried and crackly too, that soft shit that sponged at his step, not the same at all.
paused, slung his waterbottle from his side and drained a portion of water. The crisp water revived him, and looking over his metal bottle he spied a strange deer. Albino, but the antlers…the antlers would have aged, Will never grew up in an outdoorsy family, still he cocked his head, antlers like that meant the oldest deer he’d ever seen.
His breaths became a few huffs after a small bustle of steps, “should be ‘bout there…” Will said to the branches waving at him. Something caught his gaze, a firefly, but this far south west? Will glanced at his watch, “huh, 3:30, guess,” Will caught his breath, “guess if there would be fireflies…” Will scratched his head. Every so often the image of a strange rabbit would hop out from behind a small copse of alders in this mountainous land, the flora didn’t fit, but still he knew the path he walked. Will
A friendly face greeted Will, an old friend stood and held out his arm towards Will. Will took his forearm in his and they held each other.
Another ten minutes and finally he reached his destination. A great vaulted lodge with small windows sat in the middle of a tiny clearing. Some ancient trees withered around the house, some sprang up and grew almost with the structure. A thin wisp of smoke crawled out of the chimney, the chimney sagged to the side, the shingles of the house had moss and wildflowers littering its fringes. Something out of the looking glass, Will could only smirk and shake his head, it had to be like this. After his pause Will kicked off from his spot and clomped up the cobblestone path to the entrance. As he approached the large oak door creaked open.
“Fucking hell, how long has it been!?” Will laughed through misty eyes. “Little over five years now!” The man nodded as they stood back and gazed at each other. Will clenched his hand, that grasp, that embrace, felt a little weak, but then Will expected that. Poets and Writers Coalition Hallo-Zine Fall 2021
