Creative Writing Collection

Fault Line

       Odette smiled up at her father as she held out the batch of cookies to him. Her first batch. Her first self-made batch.

       The snicker-doodles had already cooled off, but now was the taste test. Aslan kept a wary, false seriousness as he snatched one of the cookies up. Inspecting it, he sniffed hard and comically before taking a bite.

       Biting her lip lightly, the little girl anticipated what her father would say. He wasn’t her actual dad, not that she knew that, but she strove to please him at any moment she could. At age 8, those cookies and how they tasted were the most important thing to her.

       Aslan smiled lightly before flashing a grin.

       “Fantastic! Absolutely delectable!” he exclaimed before tossing the rest of the cookie into his mouth. “My compliments to the chef.” Mouth full, he kissed his giggling daughter on the cheek.

       “Baker, papa, baker!” Odette corrected with a wide smile.

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       That was one of her favorite memories.

       Looking back at just a bit over a decade, she was kill to have those days back. To remain in childhood. To have her elven father/caretaker/mother back.

       As she leaned against the hollowed inside of the tree, Odette began to cry. Far from home and what she knew, with too many things tosses at and torn from her, all she could do was release what was in her heart. And that was pain. Her back scratched against rough bark as she sat, drawing her knees close to hide her dirt-covered-tear-streaked face.

       Ever since the war, she was so lost and confused. Now more than ever.

       A knock came from the outside of the tree, alone with a curious, “Hello?”

       Her crying soon ended, and she wiped her tears away; she didn’t want whoever it was out there to see she was crying.

       “Hello? Tree? Is that you crying?” The last question was said in a low whisper. Male, by the sound of it. There was another knock. Since the Enchanted Forest had been revealed, magic and general oddness was something now of the ordinary.

       The barks fibers began to pull apart in rooty strands, the man outside jumping away in surprise. Odette calmly stepped out and drew her sword. He stared up at her in wonder and fear.

       “… What are you…?”