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The Story:
So, you think you’ve traveled, do you? Well, grab yourself a pint and warm your lucky toes by the fire because this tale will leave you cold.
It was twelve years ago. I traveled to the south lands, intending to catch me a ferry to Irilia. But the rains come up, harder than a priest’s convictions, they did. I couldn’t see anything and got all mixed up. For the better part of a bad day, I wandered the forest.
When the storms had run out of fury, I found myself on a strange path. It was cut and proper but uncharted and strange. And I was lost. I had no choice but to take it, you see?
So, there I was wandering a road that felt quite uninviting to wanderers. It wasn’t long before the path forked itself into a decision. Which way led where? There was no sign to instruct me.
As I approached the fork, three men emerged from the shadows.
“Hang on, my boy,” one said.
“We three are the keepers of the music of reapers.”
“Pay a piece for a song from us, just one comes to mind…”
“Or turn to rot like these trees, but all in due time.”
Never had I seen such a sight in me life. Three men, dressed alike with fiddles on their backs, threatening my travel with magical nonsense.
“No thanks,” I said.
I chose the left side, but as I walked by them, the men followed closely behind. The hairs on my neck prickled at the cold from their eyes.
“What are you doing?” I asked them, after a few minutes.
They had no response other than lifting their fiddles to a sad song that was no doubt a curse upon me. It was the saddest melody I had ever heard.
I ran from them until I passed out. When I awoke, I was back on a familiar path, so I naturally assumed I dreamt the whole scene.
Next thing I know, my legs are itching. And here, twelve years removed, my legs are as wooden as the forest.
They call me Two Peg Pree. And if I’d chosen a different path, the name might have never had its day.
What do you all think of this story? If you want it to be included in the voting for the next short film, be sure to let me know in the comments below!