Disclaimer: I do not own The Village or anyone in it except for Cora and Thomas. Just random little children, you know?
A/N: I just saw The Village for the first time last night and loved it! My God! That was sheer genius! Man...I'm still in awe. Anyway, with my ways I am determined to write a story about it. Okay, perhaps more than a story. I might do a couple. Who knows?
Innocence
Cora giggled, well-hidden from her playmates behind a large rock. She crouched down, hugging her skirts tightly around herself as a cool autumn breeze rolled in. It blew her deep brown hair all about her face, tickling her delicate nose and causing her to sneeze softly. She sucked in a breath, fearful that the small noise might betray her.
She waited for a few moments more before her little arms became tired. She would have to stretch again, move again, to keep the excitement properly contained in her small body. Games of hide-and-seek always did that to her. It was her pet peeve about herself, but she knew that at seven-years-old, nothing could remedy it.
So she peeked up over the rock, sparkling green eyes bright in anticipation. She saw, not fifty feet from her, Thomas, her favorite friend, looking about the wide field in confusion. The tall, dry grass reached up to the middle of his stomach, and he looked out over it carefully. Still, as he held his hand over his eyes to shield them from the mid-day sun, he could not see his friend. And after a moment, he was off again, running in the opposite direction in hopes of finding some other of the ten children that played about.
Cora giggled again, fairly certain that she was undiscovered, and turned, knees bending and back sliding down the smooth surface of the boulder. She sat, smiling, hugging her knees to her chest once more in the crisp autumn air.
She waited for a good long time, long enough, she thought that the schoolhouse bell should have rung again and someone, perhaps Ivy Walker, who often helped out with either the children or the "mentally unstable" as her mother called them, should have come to get her.
She could wait no longer, so she sprang up, bursting with stored energy and ready to expel it by whatever means possible, and shouted at the top of her lungs, "You found me!" But there was no one. Not a soul was visible as she gazed out into the field, wind blowing. It ended up blowing the hair in her eyes, and she shoved it back behind a delicately curving ear.
She was tired, so tired, of waiting, but she did it again, hoping in vain that someone would come. "Perhaps they have forgotten me," she said in a quiet voice, sorrowful and helpless. "Perhaps I hid too well." She stepped out from behind the rock, eager to return to the other children and proclaim herself the hide-and-seek champion, when suddenly...
She heard a noise.
It was a small noise, barely audible. But it was quiet in the field, and Cora's senses were still heightened from the game twenty minutes ago. So she picked up on it right away, detecting it's source to be somewhere behind her. She turned slowly, wary of the fact that she stood very close to the boundaries separating safety from danger, heaven from hell.
But the one thing none could factor in to the long poles sticking up from the ground, adorned with yellow flags at the tops, the safe color, was the curiosity of a child, especially a child like Cora. Cora feared nothing, and not even the tales of Those We Do Not Speak Of frightened her into bed. She'd even go so far as to ask why red was the bad color, and on more than on occasion.
So it should come as no surprise to anyone that Cora, courageous and curious Cora, took a step toward the boundaries. She gazed up at the long wooden poles, at the flags of safe color flying out in the breeze, as she inched ever nearer to the edge of the forest, to the edge of the world as she knew it. For it was a different world, the forest, with different beings and different ways of life. It was not simply adjoining countryside, no. It was an entire universe rolled into a maze of trees and undergrowth.
She took one step, and another, then another, until she stood at the very edge of the forest. All she had to do was move her foot another centimeter, and she would be in it. She tilted her head skyward and glanced at the flags. They were so much a warning, and they seemed to be saying, "Step beyond this line and die." But Cora didn't care. She didn't believe the legends of Those We Do Not Speak Of anyway.
But for all her bravery, it was a tentative step she took across the boundary, placing a foot gingerly past the pole, as if testing the water in a cool brook. With one foot in danger and the other safe, she stood, frozen, gazing into the black depths of the dense trees. She held her head high, showing no signs of fear, for she felt none. There was, however, a slight nervous quivering in her stomach as she brought her other foot up to meet it's cousin at the front line.
She was in.
Never before had the young child ever felt such a rush of emotions: joy, fear, anxiety, smugness, excitement. She wanted to scream to the world that she had stepped beyond the boundary, if only for a moment, and lived to tell the tale. "What will Thomas think when he hears this, I wonder?" she thought to herself as she stood.
Despite how tired she had grown of waiting, she did it some more. For what, she did not know. She waited to hear the noise again, she supposed.
The noise.
Her eyes widened, remembering. What had the noise been? This was something she did not yet know, but remembered that when she had heard it, it seemed like a crackling of sorts, like a breaking, a snapping. Thinking it over, she deduced it was most likely a twig, trampled underfoot by some animal of other.
There it was again.
She visibly stiffened, eyes becoming (if possible) even wider and hearing become one hundred times stronger as she tried to seek out the source of the sound. She found it to come from deeper in the wood. And she had to know what it was.
Driven now by extreme curiosity, all thoughts of fear were abandoned as she stepped deeper into the thickets of thorns and twigs. She traveled east, in the direction of the snapping, until she came to a small clearing, a clearing filled with...
The bad color.
Cora gasped, dainty hands flying to her gaping mouth as she stifled a little scream. Never in all her life had she seen so much crimson. She was surrounded by it, standing in the middle of a small field of bright red berries. She turned around and around, near panicked, emerald eyes wild in shock.
And then she heard it again.
It was nearer this time, so near that it made her jump slightly. She was beginning to become very uncomfortable with the situation. Part of her wanted to leave.
Now, Cora was a logical child, and did not like her mind being overrun with legends she had heard. If she did not believe them then, why was her will being put to the test now? She had half a mind to run, screaming like a mad woman, out of the forest, and never looked back.
But some unexplained force inside her told her to stay, and some other, stranger force made her kneel down and gently pluck from it's inconspicuous place on the ground a berry. And pluck it she did. She also stared at it, fascinated by the magnitude of the color. And it wasn't long before she'd taken it in her cupped hands and simply smiled at it. It would be her little secret.
The noise. Again.
She gasped, dropping the berries because of it. She tried to tell herself that they weren't real, they weren't real, they weren't real!
They were.
In only a moment, there was a loud rustling, like leaves being trample upon and branches being pushed out of the way. She stood stock still, unable to move out of fright. She wanted so badly to turn around, to see the thing that was making those horrible breathing noises, like it was sucking in air through a thick cloth. And with each exhalation, Cora could smell it's putrid breath. The thing positively wreaked of blood.
But worst of all was that she could no close her eyes. She could not will her eyelids shut as the wretched creature came around to face her. And it stood above her, taking even, panting breaths, and it stared down at her. Or, at least, Cora thought, it would have, if it had had eyes. Or if the eyes were visible beneath the great red cloak.
That was the first time, and with much horror, that she noticed the creature's cloak to be red. She traced the massive cloth with her eyes, resting them on each feature of the hideous beast separately. First was it's face, a mysterious black hole shadowed beneath the cloak. She could make out no facial features, but she knew it to have a mouth, for she had heard it breathing only minutes before. Then were it's hands. It's hand were the most terrifying things she had ever laid eyes upon, because they weren't so much hands as they were...claws.
And then, in a voice strong and clear, she said, "So that is why they call red the bad color," mind traveling back to an earlier thought. Having no idea where the voice came from, she looked up into the creature's black hole of a face and said timidly, "Oh, I do beg your pardon. My mind enjoys wandering, you see." Of course, it could not see, but Cora didn't care. She merely continued talking.
"I am sorry to travel into these woods," she said. "But, you see, I was left behind when my friends returned to the schoolhouse. I suppose they have forgotten me." It was in a sad tone that she said this. But then she smiled, and it was a wide, bright smile, and said, "But then I suppose that perhaps I hid too well, and that they could not find me. Perhaps they went to find Ivy, to request her help. Oh, but you must think me terribly rude, going and on like this about myself. I'm sure you must have something you wish to say."
The creature made no response, only breathed rhythmically, in and out, in and out. Because she did not much care for awkward silences, she said, "Then I suppose I shall introduce myself first." She held out a hand. "I'm Cora O'Connor." The creature made no response, and Cora blushed. "I'm terribly sorry," she said, drawing her hand away. "I forgot that you cannot easily shake hands."
The creature said nothing, only grunted. Then, it extended a claw, pointing at the ground near Cora's feet. The small girl looked down and noticed the berry branch she had plucked. "Oh, yes," she said, fingering it. "I picked it from the patch." She gestured around her. "I wanted to keep it...as a secret. We're not supposed to have it. The Elders say it attracts your kind." She held it out to the beast. "I suppose, if that's true, then you should keep it. They wouldn't like me having it, anyway."
The creature did not move for a few moments, and the two of them stood there in silence for a time. Cora was just about to draw the branch away and keep it for herself as she had intended when the creature made one movement. It extended it's claw, great, long nails inching closer and closer to her face every second, but she did not care. As she had always said, she feared nothing.
The creature grabbed the branch, pulled it closer, into it's massive cloak. There seemed to be resolution in this final gesture, and then there was only silence. The silence lasted for barely five minutes when Cora said, "I will not tell anyone about you. If I cannot have my berries, then I shall have this secret. And no one will have to know that I ever came into these woods, or that I ever spoke to you." She smiled a satisfied smile. "Good-bye."
As luck would have it, Cora could not keep her secret. However, she told only her mother and father. Her poor mother, scared to death, immediately ran to Edward Walker. To him she relayed her daughter's heart-stopping tale, and begged his advice. He called an urgent and immediate meeting of all the Elders to discuss what should be done.
Once the Meeting Hall had quieted down, Edward spoke. "I assume you have all heard of young Cora O'Connor's escapade into the woods?" he questioned. Solemn nods from all the men and women. "I know...a few of us have ventured into the woods today, so that only leaves one question: Did anyone see young Cora O'Connor?"
What followed...was silence.
Signed, Indigo StormWolf.