Craek collected rings. Gold inlay, brass, silver, it didn’t matter. If it shined in the sunlight, and was left out on a balcony, or next to a window, he would be pulled in. He couldn’t resist those rings. He had his ring collection stored high in an oak tree.
As a spy for Princess Kaera of Brightsun, Craek had helped stop the War of the Valley before it started by relaying the battle plans of the other two sides, had blabbed on the behaviors of three awful suitors seeking the hand of the Princess, and, less than 5 hours after the royal kidnapping, Craek found Little Prince Nessian.
He was given the highest honor of the King after that, as well as a small treasure of shiny, sparkling rings—but, of course, then the entire Kingdom not only knew of his bravery, but of his spying.
So, that job was over.
When he was ready, after training the next group of spies, he took his leave and retired to his nest of rings in the Autumn Woods.
He was content to bring occasional news of the Outside Word to the group. More and more, though, he stayed at home, mesmerized by his treasures.
“Promise me, Sir Craek of the BlabBlab, you won’t forget us as you travel from kingdom to kingdom.”
He could not. Their love was the shiniest thing he’d ever had.
Tonight, though, Craek couldn’t forget the Princess. Perched over an encampment of orcs, he saw the seven Brightson Ruby Rings around the neck of one of the orc soldiers.
They’d lit a fire, massacred several small rabbits from a local warren. Now, the soldiers chewed without speaking, pulling the meat away from the spit with their tusks, .
Brother Fenzel struggled in this wind to light the candles of the Passive Hours, the hours in the middle of the night when your fate was in the hands of the More Powerful. The candles were a symbol of light, clarity, even in the darkness. However, tonight the wind snuck through the branches and stones of the little shrine, making it harder for him to see that clarity, that light. He had trusted his life to the care of Mundimila the Compassionate. She protected the wanderer, the castaway, the hidden, the vulnerable, and so he honored her for her help in these vulnerable hours. He was the attendant and cleric of her forest shrine here in the Autumn Woods. But in this steady night breeze, even inside the shrine, the candles would not stay lit. His old hands trembled to light them again.
He’d been that kind of wanderer for many years, on lonely paths, mapping the world with his feet, pulled by wanderlust. But then, one night, he’d heard Her singing and followed the sound. She led him to the Church of the Starlit Branches, promised him something bigger than just his vagabond traveling. Folks of the forest gave him food and shelter and friendship. Many of them were displaced by war—smaller creatures, humans, Silvi, the Reconstructed, the Clodders who were just trying to settle again, anywhere. He stayed, became a cleric, learned healing magic. He found he wanted to help people. He served them for years and thought he always would. But you don’t always get to stay where you want.
The Autumn Woods were peaceful. But that didn’t stop retired General Astrati from his day-long perimeter walks. Despite the widespread opinion that there was no need for such a constant search for danger and enemies, Astrati did it anyway. He claimed it was good for his knees. This allowed everyone to believe that he secretly took the walks to be alone. But how could a soldier so easily retire after being vigilant most of his life? You cannot turn it off. It only made sense to him to offer his best skills to the group: his watchfulness, his paranoia, his darksight, and his wariness. Honestly, he was being a realist. Peace has to be protected. Boundaries must be enforced. They didn’t understand vigilance.
Astrati, they said, you get to be at peace too.
They’d all served their times, done their duties, been the advisors to Kings, been the mentors to magicians, the wise consultants for quests, the champions—the Generals.
This was years ago.
Now, they had each moved to the Autumn Woods to have lasting peace in their older years, far from the cities, far from the villages and towns, deep in the safety of a thicket of bushes and trees with old roots that twisted and tangled through the hollows.
They were entitled to rest, weren’t they? Let the Woods ward the strangers away, let the scary stories spread. How can we be at peace, when we look for danger?
Welcome to my illustrated story, “Protect the Autumn Woods.” Here you will find all the illustrations and their corresponding short chapters. Most of the chapters are less than a thousand words.
Once you read a chapter, you can click on the link below, or the right arrow to go to the next chapter.
If you are viewing the paintings at the Dayton Society of Artists from November 1-December 15, you can just read along with the paintings on the wall. They should go in order.
Prologue
To outsiders, it seemed like fall came way too early to the Autumn Woods and stayed way too late. The first trees to turn sang their first notes of autumn in spring. And the last of the trees’ colors stayed till the chill of winter, adding extra red and orange to the snow. It was unnatural, some would say, for trees to linger through fall so long. They could be right. Leaves were almost always red and yellow and orange. Consensus decided the Autumn Woods were under a spell.
Stories about the Autumn Woods, like the woods themselves, were a bit more colorful and lingered in the imagination longer than most stories. People said they were enchanted. That their beauty was a lure. That magicians and sorcerers lived in the woods, dangerous fighters and thieves and those who controlled the dead.
Others wondered if so many powerful people could live together peacefully. They’d quote the “Sole Witch Theory” of woodslore: that any woods purported to be dangerous or enchanted has only one powerful person at its center because, chances are, multiple powerful beings would not get along.
Though theories argued about who lived there, they agreed on one thing: that the paths through the Autumn Woods should only be used in emergencies, and that the magic there might be helpful and benign, but could turn against a nosy traveler.
Best to leave these woods alone.
In this way, the tales created a buffer between the Autumn Woods and the rest of the valleys, towns, and fortified cities that lay off in all directions.
Go through the Summer Woods if you want with its frequently-used, well-worn paths.
Take any of the paths that skirt around the Autumn Woods.
But unless you wanted to become one of the stories of the Autumn Woods, it would be best just to look, from a distance, at the bright yellow aspens, the boastful red and orange sugar maples, and see all the bursting, jovial trees and bushes as a curtain, holding a mystery from you, for your own good.
“Protect the Autumn Woods!” is an illustrated story by Jerome Stueart in 33 short flash fiction chapters. The story features D&D-inspired magic-using forest animals who fight to protect their homes. This story was at first a response to a prompt list created by Jenn Reese and Deva Fagan for an October Art Challenge in 2021. You can now read all 33 parts of the story, “Protect the Autumn Woods” with the search term, #AutumnWoods. “Protect the Autumn Woods!” Art Show at the Dayton Society of Artists (48 High Street, Dayton, OH) from November 1 — December 15 2024.
“Protect the Autumn Woods!” is adjacent to a larger show of amazing Dayton Artists, “Small, but Mighty.” Come see all of the art, any weekend, Friday 12-5, Saturday 12-5 to experience the art yourself.
Excited to announce my art show, “Protect the Autumn Woods!” up at the Dayton Society of Artists (48 High Street, Dayton, OH) from November 1-December 15. The opening reception is today.
It will be adjacent to a larger show, “Small, but Mighty,” featuring smaller (in size) works of Dayton artists. I think the theme works really well with this show, as my characters are also “small, but mighty.”
I have painted fall leaves directly onto the wall, and hung fall leaves (silk) above the paintings, giving you an immersive feeling. QR codes on the labels for each painting will lead you to the story sections here on my website so you can read along if you want. I’m recording a podcast of me reading the whole story on my Substack, (with a QR code leading to it) for people who want to listen to the story in the gallery.
Opening night for the show is November 1, 5-8pm, Dayton Society of Artists, 48 High Street, Dayton, OH.
I will be there all night. Come by and see the show and the larger show, “Small, but Mighty.” I think my heroes pair so well with it! And their works are PHENOMENAL. Nothing larger than 12″ x 12″ —they are beautiful.
Nov 8, 7:30pm, I will have an artist talk.
Later in November, I’m going to arrange a LIVE reading of the story for kids and adults.
Thank you to Jenn Reese and Deva Fagan for creating the prompt list in 2021 for everyone to freely participate and play in the Autumn Woods. I had no idea my playful fun would grow into this. I love the community of artists it created too, and a place for us to share our art and our process and just to play. This was play for me and if I could make every story into play I would be a happy, better writer. Play makes it easier. There was no pressure, and all the support I could hope for.
Thank you, friends, for your encouragement!
(As I mentioned on a previous post, if you have purchased one of these originals, and I’ve not contacted you already, please DM me. I won’t resell your painting. I know which are sold, just not to whom as my 2021 records have been lost. I’ll hold onto it till I know.)
I hope you have a magical week! I hope you do what you’ve been wanting to do! Renew your hope. Set intentions on what you want to go for.
You may sometimes feel small, and we all do, but you are mighty! You are mighty.
Bear Witness 