500 Word Setting

A young Luka ran through the open field, the low hum of the life of the forest like a song carried on the faint breeze. The greenery brushing at his ankles tickled him to the point that he didn’t know if he was laughing at the touch, or because of the joy he felt. When he could no longer see his house or the road, he collapsed into the lush, cool grass. He lay panting as the sun pounded down on his chest, burning him as if trying to bake him. The rough grass beneath him itched like hundreds of microscopic invisible bugs, crawling, but he was too happy to care.

The white and yellow flowers swayed in the breeze around him. He had an aura of naïveté about him, for he was just a child, still free from the weight of the world like the feather of a newborn bird. He stood up, and meandered towards the trickling sound of the stream, like tiny shells clashing against each other in the hands of a small girl. The stream laughed with him as he picked flowers on its shore, white, yellow, white, yellow, white… He cut each from the ground with his fingers close to the ground, in order to allow new flowers to grow again. Expertly, he created a long braid of flowers and grasses, the bright pollen staining his fingers.

Luka breathed in the deep, sweet smell of the flowers, the scent of the tart grass mingling together, making a perfect balance. Over by the mountains, he caught sight of a menacing black cloud. He watched as it approached slowly, undaunted. He continued to finish his crown of flowers. The field became darkened, shaded by the cloud, but it wasn’t until he felt the drops of rain pelting onto him that he started running.

He ran from the rain into the shelter of the forest, pebbles and twigs biting into the soft soles of his feet. He ran until he could run no more, the beautiful sunny day left behind him. He eyed the trees around him, and realized that he was lost. With great disdain, he reached up to find that he no longer had the crown of flowers he had made—he must have lost it somewhere in the field as he ran. He wandered through the woods that he thought would provide shelter, and soon realized it was quite different. The wet leaves gave in to the weight of the water, sending splatters of rain down onto him, soaking him through. He shivered, his teeth chattering and his bare chest quivering like that of a scared deer. He found himself deep in the heart of the forest… uncharted territory. He sat down and succumbed to his panic, crying as the rain crashed down on his head, unrelenting and cold.

The cloud had been but a small storm cloud, and passed in time. Luka was left alone in its wake, watching it with hating eyes as it rolled into the distance. It was incapable of mercy. He searched for hours to find the field again, and finally found it as the setting sun lit up the grasses like fire, a whole burning beacon to light his way home. Somehow he was ungrateful. He retraced his steps and searched avidly for his crown, to no avail. As he returned home in the dark, damp and cold, his feet numb from the dew so that he could no longer feel the sting of the gravel and twigs, he couldn’t wait to be home.