Quick recap: my theme is flash fiction with tree names used as prompts. I cheated a bit for this one, and used two names (ash and anise). And no, I’m not sorry.

 


 Ashen Anise

Anise knelt to the ground, sifting through the ashes with blackened, soot-stained hands. The fire had been sudden–a blazing torrent that had raged through the village, turning it to ash and embers in mere hours.

Despite what they said, it hadn’t been her fault.

They were always whispering about her—the wild woman that lived alone in the woods. Some said she stole children to feast upon their flesh; others said she performed dark magic in the light of the moon. Some of these whispers held a kernel of truth, but most were preposterous. As if she cared enough about their children to steal them. They were more trouble than they were worth, and would likely give her indigestion besides. The townspeople always thought overly much of themselves.

Her fingers brushed against something cold and hard in the ashes. She dug it out and held up a tarnished golden locket. She pried it open, but the portrait within was blackened beyond recognition. She put it in a pocket.

It had been a fortnight ago when they came to her—nearly the entire town, gripping their pitchforks and kitchen knives. She had almost laughed at the sight of them but had bitten her cheek and remained silent. No need to fan the flames.

The crops were dying, they had said. There would be famine that winter. Then, when Erran’s cow birthed a stillborn calf, they had all agreed that something must be done. And so they had come to her home deep in the woods and demanded that she leave forever.

Anise rose from the ashes, stretching her back until her muscles ceased to ache. She stared at the sky, clear and blue, no longer clogged with blackened smoke. She had lived in these woods all her life. She’d not be run off by them or anyone.

She returned to the center of the village and to the grave that lay open there. Bones and scorched bodies lay heaped at the bottom. Not everyone had died to the flames. But those who’d survived had said the town was cursed, and so they’d packed up what few belongings they had left and moved on.

Anise retrieved the golden locket and placed it in the grave. She lingered a moment, staring at the singed remains of those who had also once called this forest home. Then she filled the grave with earth.

Despite what they said, it hadn’t been her fault.