Lost in the Woods
By M Darby
Chapter One
It was a dark and scary evening in the woods. Goldilocks shivered as she peered amongst the trees, shuddering and shaking at every little sound she heard. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled and a whimper escaped her throat.
She was lost. And alone. And afraid.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she continued forward, regretting ever having chased that kitten into the forest. It had been reckless and now she was paying the price.
She was lost. And alone. And afraid.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she continued forward, regretting ever having chased that kitten into the forest. It had been reckless and now she was paying the price.
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Just as she was starting to lose hope, she stumbled across a break in the trees. Branches reached out, grabbing at her like witches fingers, but she continued, desperately trying to escape their clutches.In the clearing, was a small rickety house. No lights were on and the outside was painted in flaking green paint as though trying to camouflage with the surrounding forest.
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Cautiously, she inched her way toward the door. Loading...
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"Hello?" Goldilocks called out, her voice too loud in the quiet forest.No one replied.
Holding her breath, she reached out and knocked on the door, the rough wood scraping her knuckles.
The door creaked open, showing the dark void beyond and Goldilocks swallowed.
"Hello?" she tried again.
The smell of pancakes wafted through the crack in the door and her stomach growled loudly. When was the last time she had eaten? She couldn't remember.
She pushed the door open further with trembling hands.
"Is there anyone home?" she called.
All she needed was help. Some directions and perhaps some water. A little bit of food.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside.
"Hello?" she tried again.
The smell of pancakes wafted through the crack in the door and her stomach growled loudly. When was the last time she had eaten? She couldn't remember.
She pushed the door open further with trembling hands.
"Is there anyone home?" she called.
All she needed was help. Some directions and perhaps some water. A little bit of food.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside.
The lights were off, only the light of the moon illuminating the strange house through small windows. She inched along the corridor, flinching every time the wooden floorboards creaked beneath her weary feet.
She didn't know where she was going. All she knew was that somewhere there was food, and her stomach was pulling her towards it.
She didn't know where she was going. All she knew was that somewhere there was food, and her stomach was pulling her towards it.
The kitchen was more homely than she'd expected, with pots and pans on the counter and the table set for three. Who lived here?
She stepped up to the large wooden table and peered at the stacks of pancakes laid out on well worn blue porcelain plates.
The first stack smelled delicious and she cautiously reached out and pulled off a piece of the fluffy pancake on top. Placing it on her tongue, she winced as she realized it was spicy. Who on earth ate spicy pancakes?
Shaking her head, she assessed the second plate. Pulling off another small morsel, she tentatively tasted it. Immediately, she spat it out. It was blueberry. She hated blueberries.
She stepped up to the large wooden table and peered at the stacks of pancakes laid out on well worn blue porcelain plates.
The first stack smelled delicious and she cautiously reached out and pulled off a piece of the fluffy pancake on top. Placing it on her tongue, she winced as she realized it was spicy. Who on earth ate spicy pancakes?
Shaking her head, she assessed the second plate. Pulling off another small morsel, she tentatively tasted it. Immediately, she spat it out. It was blueberry. She hated blueberries.
Finally, she turned to the final plate. When she placed the small crumb on her tongue her eyes widened and her stomach growled in appreciation. It was plain but covered in syrup.
Before she knew what she was doing, she tore off another piece and shoved it into her mouth. It was the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted.
It was only when her sticky fingers brushed against the empty plate, she realized what she'd done.
She'd eaten it all.
Before she knew what she was doing, she tore off another piece and shoved it into her mouth. It was the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted.
It was only when her sticky fingers brushed against the empty plate, she realized what she'd done.
She'd eaten it all.
Chapter 2
Staggering back from the table, her face sticky with syrup, she stared at the empty plate with wide blue eyes. Would whoever the person the pancakes belonged to be angry? She could make some more perhaps? If they could only help her get home, she could ask her parents to give her some money to pay them back.
Her legs trembled. With her belly now full, exhaustion shook her to her core. She needed to rest. Trudging back through the house, she wandered into the living room..
Her legs trembled. With her belly now full, exhaustion shook her to her core. She needed to rest. Trudging back through the house, she wandered into the living room..
Three chairs stood in the middle of the dark room. One was huge and overstuffed, the second made of carved wood , and the third more like a fluffy bean bag.
Curious, Goldilocks climbed into the first chair. It was so soft, it felt like it was swallowing her whole. She wriggled and tried to get comfortable, but it wasn't possible.
Disappointed, she climbed down and tried the second chair. It was not comfortable at all. The wood was beautiful, carved in spiraling roses and vines, but the threadbare cushion on the seat was not for relaxing.
Frustration pulled a groan from her throat as she slipped down and sank onto the final chair. The fluffy blue beanbag chair was perfect. It was soft, but not too soft, and she immediately felt relieved.
Curious, Goldilocks climbed into the first chair. It was so soft, it felt like it was swallowing her whole. She wriggled and tried to get comfortable, but it wasn't possible.
Disappointed, she climbed down and tried the second chair. It was not comfortable at all. The wood was beautiful, carved in spiraling roses and vines, but the threadbare cushion on the seat was not for relaxing.
Frustration pulled a groan from her throat as she slipped down and sank onto the final chair. The fluffy blue beanbag chair was perfect. It was soft, but not too soft, and she immediately felt relieved.