Ash and the Whispering Woods

In the shadow of a small village stood the Whispering Woods, a sprawling

forest shrouded in mystery. The villagers rarely ventured into its depths,
spooked by the murmurs that echoed through the trees. But this story
doesn’t begin with the villagers—or even the forest. It begins with an
ordinary cigarette named Ash.

Ash wasn’t like other cigarettes. For one, he could think. A flicker of
consciousness burned within his paper-wrapped body, and though he
couldn’t speak, Ash observed the world through the soft glow of his ember.
He lived in the jacket pocket of a man named Cole, a woodsman with a
restless spirit and a penchant for wandering into places others dared not
go.

Cole had no idea his cigarette was sentient. Ash had spent months riding
along on Cole’s adventures, tucked away until Cole decided it was time for
a smoke. Despite his strange awareness, Ash didn’t fear his purpose. He
accepted it, understanding that his life was fleeting, but he couldn’t shake
the sense that something greater awaited him.

One cool autumn evening, Cole decided to explore the Whispering Woods.
He had heard stories of an ancient tree at the heart of the forest, said to
grant wisdom to those brave enough to find it. He packed his bag with
essentials—water, a flashlight, and of course, his cigarettes.

Ash felt the tension as they entered the forest. The air was thick with an
energy he couldn’t describe, like the woods themselves were alive.
Shadows danced across the ground as the sun dipped below the horizon.
Cole whistled softly, the tune bouncing off the trees, while Ash waited,
feeling the shift of Cole’s pocket with every step.

Hours passed, and the forest grew darker. Cole stopped to rest, leaning
against a gnarled tree. He reached into his pocket, pulling out Ash and a
lighter. “Time for a break,” Cole muttered.
The flame flickered, and Ash’s ember flared to life. For the first time, he
could see the forest through the glow of his own light. The trees seemed to
lean in, their twisted branches forming eerie shapes. Cole exhaled a cloud
of smoke, the tendrils curling upward like spectral fingers.

As Cole smoked, Ash felt something shift. The smoke didn’t dissipate as it
normally would. Instead, it lingered, forming strange patterns that danced in
the air. Then, the whispers began.

"Turn back."

Cole froze, his hand gripping Ash tightly. The whispers grew louder, a
cacophony of voices overlapping one another. “What the—?” Cole
muttered, looking around.

Ash’s ember flickered, brighter than ever, as if he were trying to warn Cole.
But the woodsman, stubborn as always, pressed on, cigarette still in hand.

The deeper they ventured, the more the forest seemed to close in around
them. Eventually, they stumbled into a clearing. At its center stood a
massive tree, its bark glowing faintly with ancient runes. The whispers
quieted, replaced by an eerie silence.

Cole stared at the tree in awe. “This must be it,” he murmured.

The tree’s glow intensified, and a deep, resonant voice rumbled through the
clearing. “Why have you come?”

Cole took a step back, his cigarette dangling from his lips. “I—I didn’t mean
to disturb anything. I just wanted to see...”

The tree’s glow flared. “Few are permitted to stand before me. Why should I
allow you to remain?”

Ash felt a surge of heat within himself, as if his ember were reacting to the
tree’s power. He flared brightly, catching Cole’s attention. “What the—?!”
Cole exclaimed, pulling Ash from his mouth and staring at the glowing
cigarette.
The tree’s voice softened. “The flame you carry is not ordinary. It holds the
remnants of ancient power, a spark of the forest’s own magic. Speak, little
ember. Why have you come?”

Ash burned brighter, his ember casting light across the clearing. Though he
couldn’t speak, the tree seemed to understand.

After a long pause, the tree addressed Cole. “The flame has guided you
here for a purpose. If you wish to walk this forest freely, you must become
its guardian. Will you protect it from harm?”

Cole hesitated, then nodded. “I will.”

A small seed dropped from the tree’s branches, landing in Cole’s hand.
“Plant this near your home,” the tree instructed. “It will bind you to the
forest, and the flame shall guide you.”

The whispers faded, and the clearing fell silent. Cole tucked the seed into
his pocket, along with Ash, whose ember now glowed faintly. As they made
their way out of the forest, Cole couldn’t shake the feeling that his cigarette
had somehow saved him.

From that day forward, Cole dedicated himself to protecting the Whispering
Woods. And though Ash’s ember eventually burned out, his spark lived on
in the seed, a reminder that even the smallest flames can hold the greatest
power.