mini short stories #3

As the moonlight showers in the night through the small cracks in the leaves, the forest taunts the passenger. Limb over limb, branch over branch, just the same, he recognizes something in himself. 

What a cowardly thing to think. Of all the branches, the same. Just something to jump over. Just something to overcome, and discard. 

The wet and clingling leaves stuck to his shoes as he came to an abrupt halt. 

As if it were blaring right beside his ear, his head whipped around, and his night filled eyes swarmed the forest around him. 

All glistening in shades of a Royal purple, perhaps a tint of golden blue. Something was singing. Something was preparing supper. And something was falling in love for the very first time. 

The tree with the slight rusted red color chipping from it, to his left. The crevices in his thumb ever so slightly traced it. 

A passion for all things green. Perhaps a collector of leaves, herbs, perhaps even green shoes. 

The obvious toad on top of the sixth branch he almost jumped over, the toad did a horrible job of hiding himself. 

A woman, some would perhaps say too proud. Too loud. If only they saw her the way she did. So courageous, so absolutely fearless her smile eliminates failure itself. 

What a mystical thing. 

And finally the pond which the toad had escaped from. 

A reflection stared back as he tilted his back down. 

Who did he see? 

A father, a brother, a husband? A son? A boy? A man? 

Or, perhaps, just a being who took just the right amount of joy in better loving humanity by escaping to the forest by night, and making friends with trees.