Short Story

The writer in the woods

  • He was a prolific writer residing near the rainy forest. The solitude of his nature has earned him professionalism in his writings, and to deprive himself from flings he was more like a mysterious writer to the world. He was well known by his words, but his identity wasunidentified.

    Every weekend his tales of short love stories gets published in the column of the newspaper, and it goes on becoming great with every passing day.  The mysterious writer begin getting famous with the initials 'M. A'.

    On the other corner of the country was a cosmopolitan girl, whose hobby was of reading. The coffee mug in her hand, the blanket on her lap, sitting near the window she used to spend her Sunday morning reading that anonymous writer's articles with endearment.Cutting the pieces of articles from the newspaper and engrossed in her thoughts, she used to imagine him in her own perception. The words of the writer carved an elegant sculpture of his in her mind.

    She used to write him letters, appreciating him in every possible way, with the sheer hope that he might answer his telegrams someday. The writer firm on his will, keeping him self away from distraction, kept hatching out articles from the ocean of words. He was grateful for the appreciations but more devoted to his work. The girl on the other side was overwhelming with the desire of watching him with her own eye.

    One fine day she, packed her rag, put on her jumper shoes, and went off for the adventure to find 'M.A' the mysterious writer and to meet her blind love. All on the way she had was his initials and a cutout of his writings. The task was difficult but not impossible. She had read his quotes and one of them stated that "anything you want, the world conspires in helping you to achieve it".

    After days of travelling, she finally reached the place of publications, from where she got the rough idea of his place but not the exact address. The sun was high and the ambience was humid. There wasn’t any shop or hawker visible in her sight as long as she could see, from where she can buy water bottle. Starving and thirsty in the forest she fell down and it all turned upside down in her vision.

    When her eyes opened she saw herself inside a house made of oak, not fully furnished but it was something worth for introverts. The sun light was beaming inside through window, the fragrance of the tree leaves and the chirping of the birds, were pleasantly heard, just like it was a day after a heavy rainfall. She stood up and went towards the clay pot and drank enough water. She looked here and there and there wasn’t any air of human besides her inside the house.

    After few minutes, this silent awkwardness was interrupted by a coughing sound from her behind. She turned around and there stood a man in his late twenties, sleeves rolled and eyes glistening.They exchange looks for few seconds and it was he who started the conversation asking her presence over there in forest.

    "I'm here in search of someone", she said. Her lips shivering and voice crumbling couldn’t have spoken better than this. He offered her some fruits kept on the wooden table, the table carved out of oak wood which seemed to be eons older. The girl being hungry ate some and thanked him for his kindness. The man being generous asked her if she needs any help, or with whom she wants to meet.

    The girl herself unaware of the mysterious writer just told him that she doesn’t know who he is? Or how he looks like?

    The man startled and asked how on the earth she could find him if she doesn’t knows who he is?

    "Anything you want the world conspires in helping you to achieve it". This is the saying of the person whom i want to meet she said smiling. By saying this she fumbled her hand inside her bag and took out some cutouts of the article and showed to that man. She made him focus on the initials and told her that she wants to meet him, and he resides somewhere in this hamlet.

    Packing her belongings she started collecting cutouts, while the man stood silently in the corner as it wasn’t in his reach to help her. She forwarded her hand and introduced herself as Rachel Johanssen. The man joint hands with her and introduced him as Maksur alqalb.

    The girl smiled and she was pleased with the sweet gesture of that man. The world where no one helps without having a greed, there he helped her when she was in trouble. But after a few seconds, maybe a switch click or something, the girl reckoned something, maybe his name. The two looked each other vaguely and before girl can raise another question he said "I'm M.A" with confidence in his eyes and voice hard.

    The mysterious veil was unveiled, and she was looking his face as she was devoting him. After moments she gazed down and tightly shut her eyelids.

    The girl was taken a bit back from his confession as something got unexpected in her unplanned rendezvous. Though she had found the 'M.A', but it was her expectation which fell apart. She used to love the writer who had colored her dreams with his black and white words, but the person standing infront of her was inversed in perspective to her imagination. She used to love the writer in him, and this was the time when his words betrayed him painting a different character of him in a girls mind.

    She slowly collected her pieces of paper and in the other corner he was holding his contented heart again. She began leaving the place and spoke for the last time "The fairytales doesn’t exist".

    Next weekend in the Sunday morning the article of his got published,

     "I'm the book which many people are curious about, but left spare once opened. Craving me is not as casual as you think, I'm the shattered soul with thorns decor- by M.A"


    *Maksur alqalb arabic meaning of heartbroken.

    - Asim Turak