Achlys threw his hands up in despair.
"I will never leave this place," he lamented. "I am my father's son, his father's grandson. We have been blacksmiths in the village for as long as our family can remember. It is our destiny. We are and always will be as we have been."
His mother pondered these words. Her hair was wispy, and grey at the temples. Her face was lined, not the kind of lines one earns from sorrow, but from work and concern.
"Your destiny is not fixed, Achlys. You have choices. You can travel the public road to another village and try to make your way. People have left."
"The public road? To be kidnapped, sold to slavers? Robbed and murdered by a highwayman? That is a choice?" His mouth set in a hard, straight line. His eyes were sharp and bright with determination.
"It is your choice. Your father chose to stay here. He chose to marry, be a trustworthy tradesman, raise a family. All choices."
"His life. Not my future. There is the Boot Tree. If I go into the forest and take my chance...”
"Achlys, do not toy with the dark arts. That tree is enchanted and ordains a fortune from which one cannot turn. Once the Boot is tried, there is no going back, no undoing the deed.”
"You don't know. Nobody knows. All they have are stories. The man who tried on the shoes of an Arab, and became a heretic. The man who tried on a pair and became a knight. Perhaps I can try on a pair and give them back if I don’t like what I see.”
"An Arab? A heretic. You choose the risk of losing your soul over the earthly danger of the public road?"
"If I go down the public road, the best I can hope for is to apprentice at another craft in another village. That is, if I am not murdered or kidnapped. At least, with the Boot Tree, I have a chance of gaining a noble future. A great risk for possibly great reward."
His mother pleaded with him. To no avail. He tossed his rucksack over his shoulder.
"Goodbye, Mother. I will see you, I hope, with my new boots, my new destiny. Know that I love you, but I am a man and must make my way.”
His mother never wept. It was a weakness she did not allow herself. But in that moment a tear forced its way down her cheek.
“If you do not remember me in your new life, I will still remember you, Achlys. Perhaps someday after you have traveled a long road you will find the Boot Tree again and choose a pair that brings you home.”
“Be well, Mother. Take care of Father. I love you.”
He threw his arm around his mother and she held tight to him, until he pulled away and walked toward the forest.
She whispered, “Travel safely my son. No matter the path, may the Lord be with you.”
The forest was dark. Everyone knew the tree clung close to the edge of the forest. It remained there, always a temptation, mostly for the young, for those whose restless spirit made them incautious.
Soon the Boot Tree was before him. It was much as he imagined. There was a power to it, one that drew him near. Every manner of boot hung from the tree. Which one held his fortune? Which one would lead to tragedy, and which would lead to a glorious life?
"Tell me, Tree, what should I choose? Is it this one with a thick sole? Or this one, with the long ties? You are silent tree, or do I hear you sighing?”
Achlys sat on a rock and untied his shoes. He hung them from a limb. There they became another pair, undistinguished, without a sign that he had ever worn them. He could change his mind. Could take the shoes back and go home.
He closed his eyes, reached blindly to find a pair. He opened his eyes, sat on the rock, put his feet in the boots, and tied them.
Nothing. He felt no difference, no vision or sense of being another. He stood up. His body was gripped with a shudder. From head to toe the sensation was profound and unpleasant.
He did not feel well. He looked down at his feet. His pants had changed. They were torn. Soiled. He stretched to touch them and noticed his hand was gnarled. The flesh was raw, one of his fingers a stump.
Achlys had chosen the shoes of a leper.
He had leprosy, but he was still Achlys. He tried to untie his own shoes from the tree but they would not budge. Someone else would be a blacksmith, would sit at his mother’s hearth.
Of all the destinies he had imagined, none included this. He didn’t feel cheated. He had wanted change. That would be his future now, perpetual change as he wandered the earth with the oldest curse known to man. He would be a pariah.
He regarded the Boot Tree.
“I wonder what you did with the leper, diabolical tree. Surely you filled his wish, while at the same time damning him to an unthinkable fate.”
Achlys picked up his rucksack and trudged into the forest. There was a sound. He looked back at the Boot Tree. It seemed to wobble. From rustling trees arose an utterance, a distinct murmur. Achlys paused to listen and realized that what he heard was laughter.
The collage and story were created in response to LMAC's contest template, #241. The template image was contributed by 
As soon as I saw this picture I had the idea of other lives, other people, inhabiting the boots.
I needed to lengthen the tree, so I found a picture on Pixabay that would help me do that.
As one might imagine, it took a bit of work to blend the two trees, add the boots to the new tree and then give leaf cover that was consistent for both parts.
The rest of the process was a matter of making a scene in the forest, adding light and mystery. A lot of frames in GIMP accomplished that. This was fun, a rewarding experience. I always feel a bit charged when I'm done with one of these pictures.
Please don't overlook the snake! This is an important part of the collage. Temptation, human striving--that's the heart of the story. It is a story older than leprosy, and more universal :))
Come, join in the contest. It's more than a contest. I don't compete because I'm on the jury, and yet I spend hours of creative activity preparing a collage.
This round of the contest ends on November 24. Check out the announcement blog for details.
Resources used in making my collage included not only
- Forest Susanne Mielke
Pixabay
Thank you for reading my blog. Peace and health to all.