Kesk

Where the Red Apples Grow

After we paid the ferry man who had taken us so far on his strange gliding creature, we looked ahead to to the twisted mountain path before us. It rose up into the brightening sky and was then scattered and lost in the thin red clouds that hid the mountain's peak. We climbed the bare rock along the narrow path. As we climbed the beauty of this world enchanted me more and more. When we finally broke though the clouds we found ourselves in an forest of gnarled trees planted in neat, even rows.
As we strolled though this old orchard we see more evidence of humanity. Soon we could see large red fruits on these twisted trees. We saw a man of small stature and great spirit. He smiled at us, and handed us each a fresh red apple. He then brought us into his home where him and his large family fed us a dinner unlike one I had ever tasted before. After the food we wandered between the laden fruit trees illuminated by the fading light of dusk. It was perfect, the fresh mountain breeze blew in from across the void, and I could hear the friendly chuckle of the short man to my left.
That night I slept like a baby, I felt at home again although I was so far from the world on which I was born. In the morning we set off again, we had miles to go before we reached the palace. It saddened me to leave the place. The people there had been so kind, and I had never bothered to learn their names. On that journey I saw many thing and met many people, but I will always remember the village of Kesk, where the red apples grow, and where I know that I can always find a hot mug of hard cider and a warm welcome.

Type

Hamlet