Forest of the Forgotten

By Elizabeth D. Marie

The snowstorm hit without warning, and out of its white curtain, the stag king appeared. From the sides of his head, antlers towered above elongated ears. His impressively broad shoulders bore the mantle of a white deer hide, and he stood a good two feet taller than my average frame. The rest of his appearance was that of a man—like the chiseled-out-of-the-pages-of-a-fantasy kind.

The storm had not only disoriented me; I was clearly hallucinating.

I stood, shivering in my worn blue parka, no doubt resembling a deer caught in the headlights, as I stared with wide eyes at his regal approach. He came quite close, seeming to have no concept of personal space, or concern for the swirling snow and howling wind. His eyes arrested me, warm and velvet brown, with both human intelligence and animal intuition.

His nostrils flared as he looked me over, and I wondered… Had I trespassed into his territory?

Two weeks until Christmas, and I’d lost everything. First my job, then my apartment. To top it all off, my fiancé decided he didn’t love me anymore. I never dreamed I’d be one of those people. Forgotten and aimless, with no one to care or look for me if I disappeared, I got in my car and just drove. When I ran out of gas, the road led me here, to the forest, at the outskirts of this small town nestled in a valley of mountain ranges.

No one should have to live under this kind of hopelessness. And maybe that’s why, when the stag king appeared, my eyes burned hot with tears.

Maybe I’d despaired enough to wonder if I should just let the storm take me.

The stag king said, “Come this way.”

He turned and moved confidently between the snow-laden pine trees, and I was compelled by both amazement and curiosity to follow.

With each step, laboring through deep snow, I slowly became aware of a change in the atmosphere. The wind didn’t blow so harshly, and the air was warming. The snow turned to sleet, then a softening patter of rain, until I was no longer walking in snow at all.

The forest gleamed with soft sunlight. The pines transformed into stately birch trees, with fresh new foliage of vibrant, shimmering gold.

Maybe I wasn’t hallucinating. Maybe I was dead.

Then we stood in a clearing, covered with lush blue-green moss and a bed of dewy, golden leaves. The gentle, warm breeze dried my wet clothing, and my shivering subsided as I absorbed the beauty around me.

That’s when I realized my rescuer had disappeared. Instead, a great silver-white stag with no resemblance to a man whatsoever stood before me. His nostrils flared, and he blew a powerful burst of warm air over me. His velvet-brown eyes looked softly at me, and he spoke with the same voice as the stag king inside my head, his mouth unmoving. You’ve crossed the boundary into the Forest of the Forgotten, but you cannot stay. Rest. It will allow you shelter for a moment. I am still its king, and it does my bidding.

“Who are you?” I said.

His eyes looked sad. One who will soon be among the forgotten.

I felt his meaning to the depths of my being. I knew his sadness by another name: loneliness.

“Wait!” I burst out as the stag made to turn away. I reached out a hand as desperation gripped me. “If this is where the forgotten go, then I belong here, too. I’m as forgotten as anyone can be.” The tears I’d been holding onto broke free and streamed down my cheeks. Weeks of heartbreak and frustration had taken its toll on my mind, body, and spirit. “Please, let me stay.”

She will not allow it, the stag said.

Who was “she”?

The stag continued, I have found you. And maybe, perhaps, if you remember… He bowed his head as if a great burden had suddenly come upon him. He went rigid with obvious pain, and his eyes slid closed for a moment. He blew out a harsh breath as his front legs trembled and bent low. He staggered.

Alarmed, I reached out to place my hand against his silver-white shoulder, gasping, “What’s wrong?”

But the stag leapt, then stumbled away from me before I could touch him.

He paused and looked at me with a gentle and heart-aching plea in his eyes. I wanted to cry again, but for him this time.

Find your way, mortal one, he said softly. Then return and find me… before it’s too late.

“But—” I whispered.

The way is before you.

As the beautiful golden sanctuary began to fade into a wash of white, the cold returned along with the biting wind and stinging snow. The storm’s strength had waned, and a road appeared before me—the one I couldn’t find before. At its end, the town stood in soft, welcoming light. My unknown future.

Behind me, the stag melted into the storm, as if he’d never existed.

That’s when I made my way here, to my new home. My new life, in this bookshop.

And now I really have found my way. But I’m going back, into the depths of that forest, and I’m going to find the forgotten stag king.

Everyone says I was only dreaming. For a time, they convinced me. But I remember.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Elizabeth D. Marie is the author of several fiction works, including her epic fairytale retellings series Crown of Stars. She has been writing and imagining worlds since she was a child – where stories like The Chronicles of Narnia helped shape her imagination and draw her closer to the Master Storyteller and Creator. Her heart is to provide clean, epic fiction for teens and adults.

---

Instagram