Dark, weightless leaves whisper a soft, ambient tune as a breeze flits through the forest. The thick black stalks that cradle these leaves extend down into the ground, ending somewhere below the omnipresent brush. The thin dirt path in front of me, mostly devoured by nature, is only slightly brighter, a slightly different color than the surrounding forest. A slightly-cloudy midnight sky hangs overhead, with a waning moon casting a meager light down to the earth. Stars twinkle in an unfamiliar pattern. The only other sources of light are a few lanterns, lit at irregular intervals and at varying distances. Most are far away from the path.
The forest is quiet tonight. There aren't many animals in this forest, let alone any human life. All I can hear is the soft rustle of the leaves, the soft whispers of holes in bark that trap wind. It is a very lonely sound, but this is a very lonely forest.
I walk here occasionally, when I'm feeling down. Sometimes, it's when I'm feeling thoughtful, or existential. Sometimes, I walk here when I just want to appreciate silence. There's a small cabin in the depths of the woods, which I discovered shortly into my nighttime jaunts. I started to repair it, little by little, so I could have some place to visit. Or, I fixed it up because I wanted something to do. It's not too far in, but it's not obvious from the outside, either. You have to search a bit to find it. I like that.
My thoughts wandered as I stalked through the forest. I had a lot to think about, and I sorted my way through the mess while listening to the soft sounds of the wood. I don't know how long I walked, thinking. I didn't really end up any better than when I started.
I was coming up on it now. A small, ragged fence lay broken to my left, the dark wood starting to blend in with the ground it was rooted in. I didn't try to fix it, it looks better that way. As I approach, the fence grows in strength, looking less like a broken arrangement of logs. A tiny clearing becomes visible ahead, housing the cabin that lays at its center. The fence parts to allow an entrance towards the cabin, with a small lantern post jutting out by the right side. The lantern was currently lit, casting the fence and the cabin in eerie, shifting shadows. The cabin itself is also made of wood, and is extremely small. There is only one room inside it, a very cramped one. The cabin looks very old, yet is still quite sturdy. There is nothing beside the cabin, looking like a curious part of the forest itself.
I walked inside. A small, well-maintained bed lay on the far wall, with a small stand next to it. The stand bore a tall candle, one that was often lit when I used the place. A wooden table and two chairs sat to the left side of the room, also well-maintained. Moonlight shone in primarily through a small glass window on the right wall. Cracks in the wood allowed small slivers of light in, as well.
I closed the door behind me and sat on the bed. I brought a book with me, and so I began reading by candlelight. It was how I usually spent my time here. Reading kept my mind off my thoughts, my troubles. I couldn't tell how long I read for, but eventually my weariness overcame my desire to continue reading. Putting the book down on the night table, and extinguishing the candle, I laid down on the bed and waited for sleep to claim me.
The lonely wind whistled around the cabin while the darkness of sleep began its slow, careful embrace.
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I felt depressed, so I wrote this. Nice beginning, but I don't like the ending. I could try to mess around with it for a few more hours but I felt like uploading what I had. Ambient music came in handy for this story.
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