Weed

by Brad Beals

Once, a boy set out alone for the City of the King, but he very quickly lost his way. So he did the first thing that lost boys do: he sat with his back to a tree, and he cried.

But before the tears had even wetted his shirt collar, he heard through the woods a faint sound, and then another. The sounds were sharp and carried a familiar ring. He followed, and as he did, the sounds grew clearer. Soon, they were coming as steady as the ticking of a clock. And then the boy's sadness at finding himself lost was all but gone, for he'd heard these sounds before, and as everyone knows, there is nothing like the familiar for bringing comfort...

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