The Man

The Man (299 Words)

Thesus, king of the forest sprites, put his tiny hand upon his brow, and sighed. “Something is wrong here,” he said.

“What’s up?” asked Nymbal, the king’s steward.

“That man,” said Thesus. “What on earth is he doing?”

“Huh?” said Nymbal. “Oh, the one sitting in front of the old oak tree? Looks perfectly fine to me, sire.”

“Perfectly fine?” Thesus started. “He’s been like that for twelve hours. I’ve been watching him! I don’t understand.”

Nymbal shrugged. “Well, sire - ahem - I’m sure there’s a good reason. Maybe he’s a tree hugger? Anyway, we best be getting back; it’ll be morning soon.”

“Rubbish,” said Thesus. “I want a closer look.” He jumped down from where they were perching, and Nymbal followed closely.

The man was as average as a man could be. In any other context he’d fit right in, even go unnoticed; but here, deep within the forest, sitting cross-legged staring fixedly at an old oak, he looked very odd, indeed.

Thesus shouted “WOAH” right at him, but he didn’t flinch. Then Thesus gathered a pile of dried leaves and thew them at him, but still the man took no notice. What in the name of all forest sprites was going on?

“Well, sire,” said Nymbal, raising an eyebrow, “it’s no use. I say leave him be, aha. Each to their own and all that.”

“Hold on,” said Thesus, his eyes narrowing. “Look at the man’s eyes!”

“Perfectly normal, sire?”

“Look harder.”

“Erm…”

“They’re heart-shaped! You’ve been messing with love potions again, haven’t you?”

“I didn’t do it intentionally, honest! You see, I was only practicing on caterpillars, but then this man appeared and, well, one thing led to another — ”

“And you were going to leave him sitting here, infatuated with a poor old oak tree?”

“Not forever…”