The light flecked in through the open window gently in the form of illuminated pollen whispering in the breeze. Shadows of the trees' canopy cascaded down in a scattered manner as accustomed to the forest and honey light oozed through dark leaf outlines against the sky.

It was time to get up.

Hari stared upwards to the ceiling from his bed. It was rounded to a point by the ascension of a single layered row of irregular rocks and held together by a white plaster he could not identify despite his years of trying. Sighing, he took in the light of the new day; one in the same he has experienced again and again for the last ten years. The days were unchanging and safe for him, yet lackluster and dry. He would have to get up and live the day again. It was his purpose to stay here. At least his disease was contained.

He dragged himself out of his sheets and planted both feet on the wood floors of his bedroom, caked in golden light like a gentle sea that tickled his toes with warmth. These clothes he wore day in and day out were now ripped, torn, and faded from exposure overtime. Threads had burst off the hems and holes grew in the fabric at the knees. His drained blue shirt bore a faint shadow of a symbol that was once crisp and solid. It was unrecognizable now, and he couldn't remember what the shape was or what it meant.

He had this outfit since he arrived in the forest ten years ago (Nanna tailoring them to fit him as he grew up) yet he could not remember the image that was once on his shirt, or the once snow white of his trousers- but that was to be expected of the symptoms, of course. The fact he couldn't recall such simple details was because his brain was slowly dying. That was one of the reasons why he had left his black gloves on as he slept too. He never risked taking them off.

Descending the stairs one step at a time down in a spiral, he watched the ground slowly get closer through the small windows that lined the walls of his tower. Once he hit the ground of the forest outside, he would have to start his daily chores. They were tedious and boring, but they needed to be done. Hari sighed deeply, regretting to start the endless cycle over again. Same tower. Same forest. Same routine.

It was time for a bath.

He folded his clothes on a flat rock next to the waterfall to bathe in the spring -all but his gloves of course. The spring was an outlet in the forest lined with private trees and was his only access to fresh water. It was clean, it was reliable, and it was warm from the sun despite it's crystal clear nature. He let the water rush over his body, washing away the grime of the night.

Lapping at the pebbled shore, the water rippled out across the surface making the objects that fell beneath engage in a silly dance of rubber crystal. Cocked comfortably on the rocks to dry himself, he let the sun do most of the work. The outlet and waterfall was nice to be in. It made him forget about why he was trapped in the forest in first place.

A small bluebird dropped from the sky gently onto a rock next to him.Singing a happy tune under the gentle roar of the falls in front of him, Hari was the only adoring fan in an otherwise empty place. The bird was a daily visitor and Hari named him Darwin mostly because he wanted a friend, and the bird seemed to need one too. Grown accustomed to his new name, Darwin came back everyday over the past several years. Hari often spoke to him whenever he came around because he hadn't talked to anyone for many years. Darwin was the only friend Hari had.

The water flowed into the forest through the falls, and trickled out through the creek. He found the unchanging flow of the water in and out of the forest soothing, knowing the world was still unfolding outside the ring of pegs even if he couldn't experience it himself. The water was unchanging because it was sourced from outside the pegs. It wasn't controlled by them like he was. He sometimes found it sad how the water seemed to have more freedom than he did.

He gathered his second pair of identical clothes, clean from yesterday's routine, and pulled them over his body. He took his old and now dirty clothes and proceeded to the creek that ran from the spring down to the foot of his tower. He spotted the wagon -permanently parked at the base of his tower- and recalled that it once held many identical pairs of clothes that were eventually deemed too torn or dirty to be used and now function as rags that occupy various new niches like towels and cleaning utensils. He couldn't leave the forest, so being resourceful was key to his survival.

It was time for laundry.

He used a set of rocks to beat any stains from the garments under the rushing water, gentle and calculated strikes echoing through the trees. It was effective but wore down the fabric quite a bit over time. After his cleaning, the garments were set to dry on a clothesline in the sun. The warmth the sun bathed the forest in was unaffected by the disease the forest housed, and was one of the only reliable things left here.

It was time for gardening.

He started tending to the rows of small plants that grew in a uniform line across a patch of dirt. He gently poured water over them, but he knew it was in vain in the end. The plants didn't grow very big anymore, and it has become routine to not see them sprout at all. The sun was as great as it has always been, the water was as clear as the day he arrived, but they weren't the reason why the plants refused to grow.

Hari noticed the soil overtime had become frail and almost grey with malnutrition. He knew the plants wouldn't grow, but he wasted water in denial. Luckily the trees in the forest still grew apples and berries on frequent occasion, and his animal traps always caught an unlucky rabbit that had wandered into the ring. He wished the carrots would grow, though. He always liked it when Nanna served him soft carrots. They were his favorite vegetable, he recalled. He poured more water on them.

Leaving the creek, he passed the old animal pen made from the rickety fence that was now empty. It once held a horse named Mavis, which brought him and Nanna to the forest. Mavis once roamed peacefully within the pen, captured in time by the uneven mounds of dirt caused by his hooves that still have not receded even though years had past.

Hari remembered he wasn't allowed near Mavis when he was younger, but he was fascinated by him. From the sound of his nose to the swish of his tail, the mare was a lively part of the forest that went unparalleled by anything within the pegs. As such, Hari wanted to get closer, but it was against Nanna's rules.

Gloves shed, one night Hari escaped from the safety of his bed without waking Nanna to visit Mavis in his pen. The forest was lit in the mystical veil of moonlight that night. Mavis swayed in his pen and flicked his tail to the entertainment of the spectating child, the hairs illuminating in a wild flash against the dark backdrop of the under bush. Hari made the mistake of squeezing through the horizontal bars of the fence.

Beckoning the gentle animal with his bare hand out to his head, the boy was received with a brush of his cheek as his fingers ran through the coarse hair. Mavis' eyes fluttered open and shut, escaping noises out his nostrils which caused the child to smile.

But the smile was short lived, as the familiar creek of the tower door on its' hinges ripped through the quiet forest air followed by the frantic screaming of Nanna, demanding he step away from Mavis in a panicked and horrified yelp. Hari was confused, that was until she grabbed the ax that leaned against a tree.

Nanna hopped the fence, pushing Hari behind her with her gloved and unarmed hand. The gleam of the weapon in her other hand caught the low glow of the moon between the treetops.

Mavis had collapsed after a few swings that connected with the docile beast. Hari remembered the animal's screams the most through the years. The damp grass flickered violently in the light and buzzed with Nanna's hectic shadows cast about the forest. She hunched again and again over the animal, the moans of pain bouncing from trunk to trunk. Then there was silence, a palpable blankness that froze the world in time. The outline of Nanna in the moonlight over the animal's mangled body was all Hari could make out, her shoulders slowly heaving from exhaustion. She turned to the teary eyed child, quiet and angry.

"Why weren't you wearing your gloves?"