Clementine
GiaB prompt #15: illumination
Old Woman Mim smiled at the patch of snowdrops that had appeared with no warning. She adored the way they hung, so pretty and genteel. Spring was here.
The daffodils had arrived too. In the forest where her cottage lay, the vibrant yellow trumpets managed to rival the colourful wildflowers and intricately gnarled trees that grew all around.
Mim glanced over to check the wooden box was still perched on the doorstep of the cottage. It went with her wherever she went, not that she ever went far. It was vitally important — a matter of life or death, in fact — that it was always close by. Stars forbid she should ever lose it.
It was time. Mim went to pick up the box. Made of hundred-year-old oak and of simple design, it was an old friend. Box in hand, she zig-zagged through the trees, away from the cottage towards the edge of the forest.
Mim could see the spring sun high in the sky, golden light penetrating the canopy of leaves. A squirrel scampering through the trees grabbed her attention and, in that moment of distraction, she caught her foot on a large stone half-buried in the forest floor.
She gave a cry as she fell, the box tumbling from her hands.
“Here, let me help you.” An arm curled itself around hers to lift her up.
Mim was astonished. Nobody was meant to know where she was. The magic of the forest made sure that she was never found so she could do her job in peace. And yet, here stood a young woman with cropped red hair that framed a pale, rather angular face.
There was no time to waste, however.
“Quick,” She said. “Pick up that box and take me to the edge of the forest. There is something I must do.”
The young woman obliged, and together they reached their destination. Below them lay a deep valley. Mim set the box on the ground, opened the lid, and started to whisper. Her tone was coaxing but the words couldn’t be made out.
The sun began to set. Mim breathed a sigh of relief, then looked at the woman beside her. Her hair was so vivid in colour that, as the deep reds of the sunset surrounded her, it burned like fire.
The reds and oranges withdrew, and the peaceful navies, greys, and blacks of the night set in. Mim spoke to the young woman.
“I don’t know how you found me, but it is surely a sign. The box is yours now. Never let it out of your sight. It will let you know when it needs to be opened.”
Clementine (for that was the young woman’s name) took the box and peered at it.
“What’s inside?”
There was no reply, for Mim was nowhere to be seen.
Clementine thought that perhaps she had gone back to the cottage, but when she arrived there, it was empty. Night had drawn in, and the inky darkness made her shiver. She decided she would sleep in the cottage.
She was awoken the next day by a strange brightness. She had put the box next to the bed and could see now that the wood was tinged a soft apricot colour, as though being warmed. It slowly turned a more intense burnt orange.
But Clementine was too taken aback to remember old Mim’s words, and darkness remained where light should have touched. The forest creatures were half-crazed, its nocturnal inhabitants overtired and hyperactive, with the diurnal continuing to sleep deeply.
There was no clock, but Clementine was sure the day should have begun by now. She stepped outside and peered into the shadows. A glimmer of white caught her eye and she saw the snowdrops. They drooped even as she watched, stems no longer able to prop up the weight of their pretty little heads.
At that moment, Clementine knew what she needed to do. She collected the box from the cottage and ran to the edge of the forest. The valley was shrouded in darkness, a huge void in the earth.
Clementine quickly opened the lid of the box and stepped back. She watched. She hoped.
The blacks, greys, and navies transformed into violets and dusky pinks. The sky was filled with a marvel of colour. The first tendrils of pale yellow light crept across the forest floor, and the valley was illuminated.
Dawn was breaking.
