It’s time for March’s flash fic. We’ve all be given the same photo and have to come up with a story based on the image. This is this month’s photo.
His fingers shook as he turned off the engine and stared out at the dirt road before him, cutting a wide swatch through the forest. Being in the closed vehicle didn’t protect him… He could feel this place. As he always could. It reached for him, now, trying to coax him out, eager to have him in its embrace, once again.
Too much, he thought, the pulsing mass of emotions pushing to get out. His skin ached, stretched too tight, as if trying to contain it all. Trying to hold back the magic that roiled within him, that fed on his emotions as if starving.
And, of course, it was. His magic had always been connected to what he felt, and he’d been cruel in denying it. He’d run from the place it thrived most, shutting down and becoming cold and calculating, just trying to survive, to get through one day to the next. Pretending his magic didn’t exist, ignoring the weakening thrum beneath his skin, in his effort to be normal, to be safe.
It had been so long, years, and his magic was ready to be let loose, to be reunited with this place. This painfully beautiful cradle of power and magic. Like was drawn to like, after all. And when he’d escaped the hell he’d found himself in, he’d gone as far away as he possibly could. Had chosen to exist in a place of concrete and steel and people, so many people pressing in from all sides. He’d severed his connection to this sacred place so completely, so severely—and his magic had withered.
And, now, it was time. He couldn’t avoid it any longer. Inhaling deeply, he opened the door and stepped out. He started down the road, no particular destination in mind. He was already where he needed to be.
He couldn’t hold back the quiet sob that escaped a few minutes later. His magic… Oh, his magic was singing, dancing through him, pressing outward, rejoicing.
The power of this place rose from the earth beneath his feet. He could hear it in the wind and moving branches and taste it in the moisture-heavy air he breathed. The scent of it flooded his senses—earthy and green and fresh. He could see it in the glow of the rising sun cutting through the trees and feel it in the warmth on his face.
All of it, all of those things coming together in a simple message that had him dropping to his knees.