Little Inklings 2025

“I need this flower, Kaachan ,” I told my bedridden mother. “You are in need of greater medical attention than what is being provided.” She smiled, something I hadn’t seen in a long time. “Do what you must, my child. My survival is not promised in these dark times.” She reached for my face and the warmth of her palm brought me a feeling of overwhelming joy. Her touch made me cry many tears, and we said our goodbyes before parting. First, I went to the village library in order to research the “mahō no aoi hana,” or magical blue flower. After skimming through a few books I found information about the rare flower, I learned that roughly ten of them bloom a year in the ancient forest of “Majo no Mori,” or Witch Forest. Being an herbalist, I had heard rumors about the flower and its medicinal properties that could possibly cure any illness and save my mother. With no time to waste, I traveled north. Within a week of hiking, I had reached the outskirts of the forest, which was covered in vegetation with winding paths and surprisingly lacked fog. “Stay strong,” I told myself aloud. I traveled the terrain of the forest, searching for any clues on where to find the flower. Within eight hours, I had found nothing of importance, but in the ninth hour, I found something. It was a house in the woods, surprisingly lavish with wood and paper structuring. The roof had plenty of curves that gave it a memorably distinct shape. This place is nicer than mine. An old man greeted me outside and welcomed me in. I obliged. “What is your name, wakai hito?” the man asked with a curious smile. “I am Satoru, an herbalist. I am seeking a flower with seemingly magical medicinal properties. What is your name?” The old man put on a serious face, refusing to introduce himself to me. “That is not important. However, I must warn you about somebody. My ex-wife, Akiko, or as many call her, yama-uba, lurks in this forest, picking every single flower from the yearly growth to use in her… strange practices. She is selfish and cunning. I would suggest turning around before you get hurt.” I thanked the old man and left his house, but I had different plans. I continued up the mountain, motivated to save my mother. The time of day reached nightfall, and the stars twinkled like diamonds. At last, I saw a beautiful blue flower under the beautiful light of a star. There was a young woman, crouching beside it. She picked it up, softly chuckled, and wriggled it into her hair. “I’m sorry, miss, but I need that flower,” I said, approaching the young woman. WITCH FOREST By William Sterling ’29 84