Welcome to this week’s installment of many micro stories, ranging in length from 100 words to 500 words.

With each story we hope to deliver a little whimsy into the lives of our readers.

THE DRUID’S HUNT

Armed with javelins and shivering in the early morning’s chill, Corius stalked the woods alongside his mentor, the old druid Garos. A sound made him turn, and he stared into the smouldering depths of the fell boar’s eyes, which rose behind a thicket. He screamed at the gruesome sight, while Garos cried for the goddess Abnoba to come to their help. The fiend roared before backing off into the darkness.

Corius couldn’t believe their luck, but despaired again as a new shadow emerged from behind a birch tree. A moment later, both druids bowed as Abnoba stepped towards them.

“Great goddess of these woods,” Garos whispered, his voice faint from the exertion of the night’s walk, “we thank you for coming to our aid.”

“A mighty lord you serve who sends out an old druid and his acolyte.” Abnoba shook her head. She was armed with spear and shield, both coloured in rippling hues of dark green.

“Even with all his warriors our lord could never hope to slay this fell boar, so it is up to us druids, the guardians of the old lore,” Garos explained.

The goddess frowned. “I thought you druids were wiser.” Then she looked towards the shadows of some ash trees. “And who are you?”

“Just a traveller far from home,” a newcomer on a horse murmured. “What are you doing here, great lady?”

“We’re about to hunt,” Abnoba said with a glance at Garos.

The stranger rode ever closer. “Oh, nice.”

Rider and horse surged forward, suddenly transforming into the boar. Corius stumbled back, while the creature aimed its tusks at the goddess’s throat. Just then, Garos stepped into the beast’s path. The boar slammed into the druid, trampling him into the ground with charred hooves. Abnoba used the respite to thrust her spear into the boar’s neck.

Corius spared only one glance at the death of the fiend then knelt beside Garos. “My teacher …” The words fled his mind as the eyes of the old druid broke.

“He knew I’d rather help two druids than your proud lord,” the goddess murmured quietly.

“I apologize for this ruse. But my mentor didn’t see any other way to defeat this creature,” Corius whispered, choking on his tears.

A smile crossed the goddess’s face. “For all his wisdom and bravery, there are still some things Garos has to learn,” she said before disappearing into the forest.

Corius whispered a farewell, then cowered close to his dead mentor, feeling immeasurably lonely. Crying silently, cheerful memories of his years studying with Garos rose before his mind’s eye, which deepened his sorrow.

When he walked home alone, he noticed a doe emerging from behind a hawthorn hedge, accompanied by a stumbling fawn, which glowed in an ethereal light. When Corius looked into the pup’s eyes, he recognised a kindness and wisdom he thought he would never see again, but now they were merged with the sparkling joy of youth and the anticipation of a life just begun.

Philipp Mattes lives in Southwestern Germany. He started writing while working as an intern in Kochi, India. Afterwards writing became an important part of his life. Most of his books and stories are in German, however, from time to time, he also also tries his hand at writing in English. After receiving an M.A. degree in English Literatures and Cultures, the COVID-pandemic caused him to change his plans and now he is working as a nurse in a hospital.

If you enjoyed this story you can find it and more in the Hawthorn & Ash anthology.

AVAILABLE HERE!

Hawthorn & Ash #155

January 7, 2026April 20, 2026 ~ ironfaerie

Hawthorn & Ash #154

January 5, 2026April 20, 2026 ~ ironfaerie

Hawthorn & Ash #153

January 2, 2026April 20, 2026 ~ ironfaerie

Hawthorn & Ash #152

December 29, 2025December 29, 2025 ~ ironfaerie ~ Leave a comment

Welcome to this week’s installment of many micro stories, ranging in length from 100 words to 500 words.

With each story we hope to deliver a little whimsy into the lives of our readers.

DESPAIR CANYON

Howling wind tore through the awful sharp pillars of rock clogging Despair Canyon, moaning up at the two men who descended into it—other than the uncaring stars gleaming far above, their only light was the lantern Ray carried.

“Why would she have come this way?” Ray said. “Grace knows better than to have gone this way.” He squeezed his Remington in both hands as he wove through the rocks blocking their path. Protrusions reached for them as they squeezed through. “What was she thinking?”

“Said her pa needed the medicine right away,” William said. “She didn’t have a lotta time left.”

Ray kept his shotgun on the twisted rocks surrounding them. Their shapes bent and wound like captured campfire flames. “You know what they say about this place, right?” William didn’t answer. “Those moans,” Ray said. “The spirits of settlers were butchered here.”

“Jus’ the wind.”

“Maybe.” Ray’s boots crunched the dirt and stones as the men paced through caught-still darkness. “Or maybe the Navajo funneled through this canyon.”

“Keep yer eyes open for Grace. She might’ve fallen and got hurt.”

“And then what will we do?” Ray said. “Carry her out?” He shook his head as they entered a denser segment of rocks. “We’d never get back to her ranch in time.”

William squeezed Ray’s collar. “You listen t’ me,” he snarled. “That little girl is depending on us right now. By God, if you’re too busy being scared to see her, you’re getting a whooping.”

Twisted rocks blocked their way. After ten more minutes—each turn of the lantern throwing up sharp shadows—they found the package of medicine Grace had been carrying.

“Eyes open,” William said. “Look everywhere. We don’t miss her.”

“So many shadows. And these rocks in the way. She could be hiding anywhere!” Ray said. The canyon’s high walls funneled them down into the valley. Rocky protrusions like branches snagged his clothing and caught on his coat. “They’re grabbing me!”

“Keep yer eyes open!” William shouted. He turned to Ray, and a rock snagged his boot. His gun flew from his hand as he toppled. Howling moans roared up at him, and his breath hitched. The light from Ray’s lantern swung wildly, and shadows danced as pillars of rock reached for them.

“William! My legs! Something’s got my legs! I can’t get out, William! It’s hopeless!”

William lifted his eyes. As the lantern swung back and forth and the moans howled, Ray’s feet joined to the ground, becoming rock. The change rose to his knees. “Help me! Help me, William!” Ray screamed, reaching. Rock swept up the rest of Ray’s body, up his torso to the top of his head, and his face was frozen in a rocky scream as the lantern fell to the ground.

It cracked, the light went out, and then there was just the moaning and the uncaring stars far above and the twisted, hopeless path out of the canyon and the thousands of rocks just like Ray.