The Music Of The Penumbral Forest

Every winter, when the nights were long and dark and cold, the Penumbral Forest would fill with music. Thereb was a village at the edge of the forest called Vermillion,  and on those nights the people could hear the faint strains of stringed instruments: elegant violins, moody  violas, somber cellos, and mournful harpsichords. 

The villagers all knew it was best to ignore it. 

Every few winters, tragedy would strike. There was always a child that would be too curious, too sensitive, too stubborn, too brave, and be drawn by the little night music that they could hear. They would try, inevitably, to find the source of the music. 

Some villagers went to extremes to prevent this. Parents would stop their children's ears with wax. Or place hobbles on their feet at bedtime. One family built their entire home on stilts, and pulled up the ladders and locked them fast every night. 

And should those efforts fail, one final precaution was in place at the path leading into the forest. 

Wolf traps work just as well on children, and the village healer could often save the leg. 

And yet, it was never enough. 

The villagers failed again and again because children will always be sensitive, curious, stubborn, and brave. You cannot hide the world from a child, who is closer to seeing things as they are, not as they want them to be. This inherent power, the villagers could never change, and in thinking they could, they had already lost. 

So every few years, a child would slip away in the night to seek answers and adventure, and never return. And the next winter, there would be one more musician, playing forever, the music of the Penumbral Forest. 

THE END

Author's Note: I'm so tired. Happy though. Goodnight!