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Autumn Fox Fire- Short Story
I haven't really written anything other than rping in quite a long time. This was just something that I didn't plan and it just flowed onto the page. Just a short whimsical sensory story. Forgive me for being rusty XD
A midnight's hour, where the night is crisp and chilled against the skin, causing the fur of all the forest creatures to bristle for warmth. The season was just starting to really dip into autumn where there was a bite to the wind and the trees' leaves were becoming sun-kissed. Deep in the woods, the smell of earth, leaves, and crisp night air was pleasant. A white fox's nose was pointed to the air as it also caught the hint of sweet smoked wood of a fireplace in the distance.
The fox was all white with an eery glow, sticking out in stark contrast to the woods' browns and warm colors. Looking ahead with bright eyes of icey starlight, the fox bounded forward only just skimming the ground with light pawsteps. She had a purpose, a direction, but of what was not yet known to anyone other than herself.
Despite the leaves that littered the ground, prime for sounding crackles for any pressure to touch them, her paws did not disturb them. Other creatures' of the forest took no notice of this fox as it bounded along. She had no prescence.
Bursting from the edge of the woods and into fields of gold, she stood in the star and moonlight. With the night light now bearing down on her fur unhindered, sparkles glittered scattered along her fur. She took another deep whiff of the chilled air before she darted once more across the fields. Left in her path, glowing blue flames floated up while fading into existence. The glow mesmerizing, equal to that of the fox's gaze.
She came to a pumpkin patch, slowing in her gait to walk among the pumpkins. As if the fox frightened them, the pumpkins she passed lost their color to turn into stark white. She seemed unfazed to this change, looking over the pumpkins-searching. One pumpkin did not change, and this was the one she seemed to have been hunting for.
The fox pounced on the gourd, biting around the top and sinking her teeth in to tear at the flesh. She worked at it until the lid was formed and could be pulled off. After doing so, she started to eat the insides. Crunching on the seeds and scooping out the sweet earthy insides. Once the pumpkin was empty, she bit the flesh a few more times until a face was carved.
Finished with her meal, she blew into the pumpkin, causing similar blue fire to ignite the now jack-o-lanturn. She stepped back to admire her work before her ears perked. Looking across the field, the faint sound of horse hooves could be herd galloping towards the pumpkin patch. A cackle travelled with the wind. With that, the fox was once more off again, leaving the pumpkin patch behind.
The golden straw flew below her as she sprinted, coming to a lake. She did not hesitate and did not need to as she continued on to run across the surface of the water. The cold bite of the air was not strong enough to freeze this body of water, no, as was clear with the ripples she made in the water upon crossing. Soon the other side met her and she was thrown into an apple orchard, heavy with the rich sweet scent of apples.
She paused but for a moment to take in the blazing colors of the coverage above, chilling wind blowing through causing her fur and the leaves to dance together. She opened her mouth to catch an apple, before she began to frolick. She frolicked through the scattered leaves on the ground and danced about. Ending her dance with a twirl under the right tree, mushrooms popped up from the ground around her.
Looking at the now circle of mushrooms, she placed the apple in the middle before taking off once more. Dashing through the orchard to its edge, she said goodbye to the trees as she moved on. The fox's paws lead her to a graveyard. The ground was cooler here and covered in a mist.
The mist tugged at and dampened her fur with chill as she slowed down to walk through the graveyard. The smell was much earthier here, heavy with scents of rock, mud, and both live and dead floral. Her silent pawsteps carried her through the graveyard and every grave she passed was gifted one of her flames above it.
By the time she reached the other side, it was the witching hour. She gazed at her handiwork. One by one, spirits of various shapes, sizes, and types started to appear from the graves. When they were all there, they began to dance. The fox watched the performance held by the ghosts, watching the twirls, sways, jokes and laughs. It was then time for her to go, and as she turned to leave they waved her farewell.
Rushing now, she ran in a circle to go back to the pumpkin patch. The jack-o-lanturn was no longer there, but this she did not mind. She did not go in the patch but instead turned to go into the cottage by the patch. The door was already open. A pawstep inside and suddenly the fox changed. She grew and shifted until she was no longer a fox.
A middle-aged woman stood in the fox's place with pale white skin and flowing curly hair with the same glowing white color as the fur. Her eyes were just as bright blue as before and she wore a purple robe and hat. She closed the door behind her, letting the warmth of the cottage from the lit fireplace envelope her. She embraced the smell of herbs, spices, and books that mingled with the smell of the fireplace. The cottage was filled with various jars and vials of spices and herbs, books on shelves, and knick-knacks to and fro.
There was her bed and her desk, both of which were messy. The cottage also had her old fashioned kitchen, in fact most of what was in the cottage was old fashioned.
Placing a pot filled with water over the fire, she sat at her desk in front of the window to start to scribble in her notes. She looked out the window to gaze across the land as the first morning light started to spill over it.
Two children could be heard laughing as they came up to what they thought to be the best pumpkin patch to get pumpkins. They were free afterall, long since abandoned yet they still continued to grow into the perfect sizes for jack-o-lanturns. Leaves and twigs crunched under their feet as they searched for the perfect pumpkins for them.
"Oh what about this one?!" The brother said to his younger sister as he gestured excitedly to the pumpkin in question. "Yes! Can you get it?" She asked her brother. He nodded and started to pick the pumpkin to lug back.
While he was busy, she gazed at the old ruins of what used to be a cottage by the patch. There was rubble and there was only one part of the wall facing them left standing. It still had the window frame though not much window left.
As she gazed, she suddenly stared fixated at the window. She could have sworn she saw a pair of bright blue eyes watching them...
but there was nothing there.
Autumn Fox Fire
A midnight's hour, where the night is crisp and chilled against the skin, causing the fur of all the forest creatures to bristle for warmth. The season was just starting to really dip into autumn where there was a bite to the wind and the trees' leaves were becoming sun-kissed. Deep in the woods, the smell of earth, leaves, and crisp night air was pleasant. A white fox's nose was pointed to the air as it also caught the hint of sweet smoked wood of a fireplace in the distance.
The fox was all white with an eery glow, sticking out in stark contrast to the woods' browns and warm colors. Looking ahead with bright eyes of icey starlight, the fox bounded forward only just skimming the ground with light pawsteps. She had a purpose, a direction, but of what was not yet known to anyone other than herself.
Despite the leaves that littered the ground, prime for sounding crackles for any pressure to touch them, her paws did not disturb them. Other creatures' of the forest took no notice of this fox as it bounded along. She had no prescence.
Bursting from the edge of the woods and into fields of gold, she stood in the star and moonlight. With the night light now bearing down on her fur unhindered, sparkles glittered scattered along her fur. She took another deep whiff of the chilled air before she darted once more across the fields. Left in her path, glowing blue flames floated up while fading into existence. The glow mesmerizing, equal to that of the fox's gaze.
She came to a pumpkin patch, slowing in her gait to walk among the pumpkins. As if the fox frightened them, the pumpkins she passed lost their color to turn into stark white. She seemed unfazed to this change, looking over the pumpkins-searching. One pumpkin did not change, and this was the one she seemed to have been hunting for.
The fox pounced on the gourd, biting around the top and sinking her teeth in to tear at the flesh. She worked at it until the lid was formed and could be pulled off. After doing so, she started to eat the insides. Crunching on the seeds and scooping out the sweet earthy insides. Once the pumpkin was empty, she bit the flesh a few more times until a face was carved.
Finished with her meal, she blew into the pumpkin, causing similar blue fire to ignite the now jack-o-lanturn. She stepped back to admire her work before her ears perked. Looking across the field, the faint sound of horse hooves could be herd galloping towards the pumpkin patch. A cackle travelled with the wind. With that, the fox was once more off again, leaving the pumpkin patch behind.
The golden straw flew below her as she sprinted, coming to a lake. She did not hesitate and did not need to as she continued on to run across the surface of the water. The cold bite of the air was not strong enough to freeze this body of water, no, as was clear with the ripples she made in the water upon crossing. Soon the other side met her and she was thrown into an apple orchard, heavy with the rich sweet scent of apples.
She paused but for a moment to take in the blazing colors of the coverage above, chilling wind blowing through causing her fur and the leaves to dance together. She opened her mouth to catch an apple, before she began to frolick. She frolicked through the scattered leaves on the ground and danced about. Ending her dance with a twirl under the right tree, mushrooms popped up from the ground around her.
Looking at the now circle of mushrooms, she placed the apple in the middle before taking off once more. Dashing through the orchard to its edge, she said goodbye to the trees as she moved on. The fox's paws lead her to a graveyard. The ground was cooler here and covered in a mist.
The mist tugged at and dampened her fur with chill as she slowed down to walk through the graveyard. The smell was much earthier here, heavy with scents of rock, mud, and both live and dead floral. Her silent pawsteps carried her through the graveyard and every grave she passed was gifted one of her flames above it.
By the time she reached the other side, it was the witching hour. She gazed at her handiwork. One by one, spirits of various shapes, sizes, and types started to appear from the graves. When they were all there, they began to dance. The fox watched the performance held by the ghosts, watching the twirls, sways, jokes and laughs. It was then time for her to go, and as she turned to leave they waved her farewell.
Rushing now, she ran in a circle to go back to the pumpkin patch. The jack-o-lanturn was no longer there, but this she did not mind. She did not go in the patch but instead turned to go into the cottage by the patch. The door was already open. A pawstep inside and suddenly the fox changed. She grew and shifted until she was no longer a fox.
A middle-aged woman stood in the fox's place with pale white skin and flowing curly hair with the same glowing white color as the fur. Her eyes were just as bright blue as before and she wore a purple robe and hat. She closed the door behind her, letting the warmth of the cottage from the lit fireplace envelope her. She embraced the smell of herbs, spices, and books that mingled with the smell of the fireplace. The cottage was filled with various jars and vials of spices and herbs, books on shelves, and knick-knacks to and fro.
There was her bed and her desk, both of which were messy. The cottage also had her old fashioned kitchen, in fact most of what was in the cottage was old fashioned.
Placing a pot filled with water over the fire, she sat at her desk in front of the window to start to scribble in her notes. She looked out the window to gaze across the land as the first morning light started to spill over it.
Two children could be heard laughing as they came up to what they thought to be the best pumpkin patch to get pumpkins. They were free afterall, long since abandoned yet they still continued to grow into the perfect sizes for jack-o-lanturns. Leaves and twigs crunched under their feet as they searched for the perfect pumpkins for them.
"Oh what about this one?!" The brother said to his younger sister as he gestured excitedly to the pumpkin in question. "Yes! Can you get it?" She asked her brother. He nodded and started to pick the pumpkin to lug back.
While he was busy, she gazed at the old ruins of what used to be a cottage by the patch. There was rubble and there was only one part of the wall facing them left standing. It still had the window frame though not much window left.
As she gazed, she suddenly stared fixated at the window. She could have sworn she saw a pair of bright blue eyes watching them...
but there was nothing there.
Category Story / Fantasy
Species Fox (Other)
Size 50 x 50px
File Size 7 kB
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