Tim approached Eldress Joan’s porch, the worn wooden steps creaking under his feet, the rich aroma of brewing tea wafted towards him. The old woman’s eyes twinkled with recognition as he drew near.
“Ah, young Tim,” Joan said, her voice carrying the weight of centuries. “Come, sit with an old woman for a spell.”
As Tim settled beside her, Joan’s gaze wandered over the empty streets of Aidenn Lair. The silence hung heavy between them, broken only by the distant whisper of the Forest of the Real.
“You know,” Joan began, “I’ve seen this village through many changes. I was here when we huddled around radios during the Cuban Missile Crisis, fearing the world might end. I watched as we gathered in awe to see the first man step on the moon.”
She paused, her brow furrowing as she looked out at the deserted street. “But never, in all my years, have I seen a change quite like this.”
“What do you mean, Eldress?” Tim asked, leaning in.
Joan’s eyes met his, filled with a mixture of sorrow and confusion. Her next words hung in the air, heavy with implication:
“Where are all the children, Tim?”
The question hit Tim like a physical force. He looked out at the street, truly seeing its emptiness for the first time. Where once there would have been games of stickball, children racing on bicycles, and the sounds of “Olly olly oxen free” echoing between houses, there was now only silence.
“I… I don’t know,” Tim admitted, the weight of the realization settling on him.
Joan nodded slowly. “The Forest of the Real, it’s not just out there anymore,” she said, gesturing beyond the village boundaries. “It’s in here now, isn’t it? Creeping into our homes, our minds… our children’s lives.”
As if on cue, Tim noticed a young boy emerging from the schoolhouse, eyes glued to an iPhone, airbuds firmly in place. The boy walked up the path, never once looking up at the world around him.
“We venture into the Forest every day,” Tim mused, “bringing back bits of it with us. But at what cost?”
Joan placed a gnarled hand on Tim’s arm. “The magic of childhood, the joy of unfettered play – these are not trivial things, my boy. They are the lifeblood of our village, of any community. Without them…”
She trailed off, but Tim understood. He felt it too – a hollowness in the pit of his stomach, a sense that something precious was slipping away.
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across Aidenn Lair, Tim bid farewell to Eldress Joan. Walking home, her words echoed in his mind, mingling with memories of his own childhood and thoughts of his children’s vastly different experiences. He saw their days mapped out like intricate puzzles – each piece a structured activity slotting neatly into the next. Soccer practice, dance lessons, travel sports, tutoring sessions – a relentless parade of adult-led enrichment. Their time, once a vast wilderness for exploration, had become a carefully curated garden, leaving little room for the wild blooms of spontaneous play.
Tim reached his front door, hand on the knob, but paused. Through the window, he saw his own children, bathed in the blue light of screens doing homework on laptops, separate even in the same room. The tendrils of the Forest of the Real seemed to wind around them, binding them to a world far removed from the simple joys of outdoor play and face-to-face interaction.
Eldress Joan’s question rang in his ears: “Where are all the children?” And with it, a new question began to form in Tim’s mind: What could he do to bring them back?