A story I wrote for a school project a few months ago.
Based on this illustration by Harris Burdick

The forest might have been beautiful, streaked with life and with the colours of bright flowers blooming from the dirt. The forest seemed to radiate happiness as the trees softly swayed in the summer air. But to Oliver it was not beautiful.

Nothing was to be beautiful ever again unless he could bring life to a dying world, his dying world, his poisoned childhood, his wayward mother sick in bed and on the brink of her last sunset.

She was truly an amazing mother, she always listened to Oliver and taught him all about life, something she might not have much longer. She had fallen ill a few months ago, she insisted it was just a cold but that became an obvious lie as more serious symptoms became clear. The town doctor couldn't do much, he said it was too late but Oliver wouldn't believe him, he couldn't.

Oliver dug his walking stick into the ground more aggressively as memories of the doctor flooded back, he hadn't even been distraught about this poor woman. He seemed even bored as he delivered the news of her sickness. As the dirt road began to turn a new direction Oliver called out "Max!" And his dog ran to his side, stepping on a flower in his path and accidentally killing it.

Oliver's mind was overrun with dark thoughts. He wanted to burn this disgraceful forest until there was nothing left because it wasn't fair, his world was ending but this forest would go on and it would still be bright and sunny even after his mother had breathed her last breath, and the kids at school would still smile and laugh without him, because they were not in pain, they could walk in the sun of happiness, though, whenever Oliver tried he got burned.

If he was able to pass through the forest, he would eventually come upon a town where a renowned doctor lived, one that could help his mother.

However, much to his frustration the forest was an impressive size and navigating its worn paths may very well take days.

Realizing this for what felt like the millionth time Oliver felt just as hopeless as all the times before. His dog -Max- panted next to him and he realized how thirsty he was.

The boy came upon a thin stream of water on his right, he followed it, sure to not stray too far from the path, Oliver's feet dragged in exhaustion and lack of enthusiasm, and the stream grew wider and wider still until it was wide enough to be a small pond, though it still twisted along through the forest long like a serpent.

Gradually the ground became sloped downward until the land and the water were one and Oliver's brown dress shoes began to soak as he walked. He let his walking stick fall to the ground as Max ran started lapping the water.

Oliver dropped to his knees at the river's mouth and cupped the water in his dry hands, he tried to drink it but to his dismay it trickled through gaps between his fingers.

He supposed he'd have to dunk his head in the water but then it would soak his clothes and he'd be cold all day, he leaned down tactfully, trying to avoid this but he slipped on the wet rock and fell into the freezing stream. Its current was stronger than he had expected and he had to scramble to get out.

Shaking with the cold (and maybe anger too) Oliver stumbled back and stood up on the shore, his pride greatly wounded. Max barked loudly at something across the pond and Oliver noticed beside out the corner of his eye that there were ripples across the stream, far from where he had fallen.

He peered across again, curious of what he would find, and he saw a figure slowly reaching into the water for something. Still not meeting Oliver's eyes the figure straightened as they pulled a leather tie from the pond.

The person was much more clear now and Oliver ccould see it was a boy years older than than him. He had fairly long hair the kind of colour that you got when you used blonde dye on brown hair and it didn't quite work, he wore tattered black jeans and muddy boots.

He certainly didn't look like the kind of guy Oliver would associate with the fine art of classical music, however he held a large golden harp between his hands, Oliver locked eyes with the boy, who looked like Oliver noticing him was the last thing he wanted.

He slowly placed his harp onto the rock and extended his hand (obviously, this served no purpose as Oliver was all the way across the river)

"My name is Stell."

"Oliver." Oliver calmed Max down, hoping she could trust this 'Stell'.

Stell nodded nervously and Oliver could tell how desperately the boy wanted him to leave.

When he didn't Stell raised him a question.
"What are you doing out here all alone? You're just a kid."

"I don't have to tell you anything, I'm twelve and I can take care of myself. What are you doing out here with a harp of all things?"

Stell laughed at first then paused. Searching for the right words his face twisted into a confused scowl, he apparently did not find those words as every time he was about to speak he stopped himself.

"I don't have to tell you anything. I'm sixteen and I can take care of myself."

Oliver dropped down onto a large, dry rock and waved his hand in dismissal.
"Are you gonna play the harp then?"

Stell hesitated a second then moved his fingers to a specific position over the delicate strings.

It was in that moment Oliver noticed something he hadn't before. Stell's hands were bleeding, badly bleeding, his knuckles looked scratched and the parts that didn't bleed were still red and irritated, and it looked like it must have hurt so bad but Stell's eyes lingered on the blood for only a moment before he began moving his hands across the strings.

A melody poured out of the harp, every fingertip must have been placed just right for such a perfect song to come into the world.

When Stell was finished he rested his hands over the strings again and Oliver had to look twice to make sure he wasn't seeing things, because Stell's hands no longer bled, not a drop of blood or a scratch ran across his knuckles, and Stell smiled before he even knew Oliver was looking at him.

When he noticed however the only thing he could think to say was.
"That's the only song I know. I'm very bad at it and I'm sure every chord was wrong."

Oliver, not knowing much about harp could only sit in silence and assume the boy was simply being humble.

"Are you just out here to practice?" Oliver asked, they were pretty far into the forest and he doubted anyone would go this deep just to prevent people from hearing them practice harp -Stell's playing wasn't half bad!

"I came out here because it's where my interplanetary portal opened." Stell said nonchalantly, shrugging.

As much as he wanted to ask, Oliver didn't even know where to start, the boy's calm tone only made it feel weirder. Maybe it was a joke and if he asked he would seem stupid. Instead he choose to query of a different curious case.

"Your hand was bloody."

Stell smirked at him.
"You're very observant."

"But now it isn't."

Stell turned his hand over and ran his fingers across it smoothly, his touch was lighter at certain parts, he was probably used to sensitive scars.
"Correct."

Oliver was relieved it wasn't an illusion and that Stell didn't think he was crazy.
'It's true,' he thought, 'It's really true.'

"How?" Oliver looked at Stell.

"You seem smart. I think you can figure it out." Stell answered, though not in an annoyed way, in a genuine tone that made Oliver feel proud of himself.

Stell lifted a trench coat off the ground and pulled it over his broad shoulders, he was getting ready to leave and Oliver didn't think his questions would be answered. Was it possible that a harp could heal?

"Maybe I'll see you around? I don't really have a reason to come back but why don't you seek me out?"

Oliver waited for Stell to say where he lived so that he could do just that but he didn't. He wrapped his arms around the golden harp and picked it up, he tied it onto his back with a makeshift leather sash and pushed ferns out of his way as he disappeared into the forest.

Oliver stayed on the rock he was on for a minute trying to process the entirety of what he had just witnessed. Stranger danger had never seemed as valid as it did today, yet for someone with blood covered hands Stell seemed nice, genuinely a good person.

And yes, Oliver wanted to see him again to unravel more of this mystery.

But he had a mission today, he had to get to a doctor so that he could help his mother-
His mother! If the harp healed Stell, it could heal his mom too!

Oliver jumped up from his rock and stumbled as fast as he could across the flowing river. Max ran after his master, barking energetically as if it were a game.
"Stell! Stell! I need to ask you something! Stell!" Oliver's heart pounded as fast as his feet as he raced over rocks and through the forest, narrowly missing getting his sweater sleeve caught on a sharp branch.

How could Stell be gone so quickly?

Oliver hardly noticed when his foot caught on something big, he wouldn't have even known it was there until he tripped over it and fell face first into the mud, where a card was carefully placed.

It read:
Dear Oliver,
I thought you might want this, I've used it for everything I need but maybe it could help your mom. If you learn how to play one day I'd love to hear it!

Oliver turned to look at what he had tripped over, it was the harp. Stell wasn't generous enough to give him the leather tie to carry it, but Oliver nearly broke down crying at what he did do.

'Thanks, God.' he thought, guardian angel, regular boy, whatever Stell was Oliver was so thankful he met him.

Oliver hauled the large gold harp back through the forest, his strides growing more hopeful by the second. Max ran ahead, his face seemed to smile.

And Oliver thought the forest was absolutely beautiful on that day.