Oh, this sounds great. I have a few short stories, but some of them are longer than would be considerate for the admins. I do have this little fairy tale I write for my younger cousin, though. It's not super great, but it's all I can find at the moment.

Once Upon A Time. . .

There was four princesses. They lived in a kingdom of peace and prosperity. The eldest princess had the power to weave words. The second princess had a power over the people, and every word that she said was full of wisdom. The third princess had the power of music. And the fourth princess had the power to speak with animals. The entire kingdom loved these princesses, and they were good rulers, wise and strong and true.

But, somehow, there was something missing. Someone ought to be there, but she wasn’t.

And so the princesses searched throughout the land in search of another princess. The princesses that they found were beautiful, smart, and funny, but no princess was right to complete their group.

They searched for years and years, but, at last, they tired of the search and returned back to their palace. They knew that someday, they would find the final princess.

What the four princesses did not know, however, was that soon, a deadly illness would overtake the land. People all over the kingdom became gravely ill, and nothing could be done to save them. The people who were sick became severely weak, and hardly had the energy to walk.

The princesses attempted to use their magic powers to save their people.

The first princess wrestled with the words, but, no matter what she did, they were only words, and they had no power over the cruel illness.

The second princess tried to speak to the illness and convince it to leave. But the illness was not a person, and her magic was unable to destroy it.

The third princess sang and played music for the illness, attempting to cast her siren charm. But a sickness has no ears hear and no heart to be touched by her song.

The fourth princess spoke to her animal friends to see if they knew any way to destroy the illness. But it was a malady that only hurt humans, and the animals did not know how to stop it.

All four princesses despaired, and they wept, because their beloved people were ill. They called in magicians and physicians, but not one of them was able to do anything.

And then, a simple village girl knocked on the door of the palace, saying that she knew how to save the kingdom. The princesses were full of doubt, but they would do anything to save their kingdom.

“My name is Lyrica,” said the girl. And Lyrica was bright and beautiful and full of strength. “I have magic. I have the power of energy and strength, and I can give my strength to the people of this kingdom and save them.”

The princesses were overjoyed, and they allowed Lyrica to work her magic. Within a week, the sickness was dispelled from the kingdom, thanks to Lyrica. And the four princesses looked at each other, and they spoke.

“Lyrica,” they said. “Will you be a princess? We have been searching for many years to find a fifth princess, a princess with the power and magic that we do not have. We believe that you are that princess. Will you join us?”

Lyrica looked at the four princesses, and she looked at the palace. She remembered how wonderful it had felt to help all of the people, and she knew that she would love to continue helping people for the rest of her life.

“Yes,” she said. “I would be delighted.”

All of my stories are WAY too long, but here's a shorter one. It's kind of dark...I have no idea what was going through my head while I was writing it. xD

A leaf falls in the forest. Far away, a nightingale sings. The river hums its slow, sad song. And clouds float lazily through the blue sky. 

A single spark from a nearby campfire falls upon the leaf. It starts the leaf aflame, and soon the frightened nightingale flies away swiftly from the burning forest. The river grows dirty with cinders and ash. The clouds grow dark and angry, but not a single friendly drop falls to aid the forest. 

Animals run, terrified, through the flaming trees. A fox kit gets stuck in a bush, crying for help. The fox mother runs back, grabbing the kit and throwing it as far as she can, but is killed instead of her baby. The kit is reunited with his siblings.

Trees teeter and finally fall, crushing everything below them. Huge branches fall into the river, making a dam. The river overflows, sending water cascading over the edge. The water seeps through the woods, putting out the fire. The ground smokes and steams, and animals hiding from the terror cautiously poke out their snouts, and view their destroyed home. 

The fire is dead, but the flooded river rages on. The animals poke their noses back in their hidey-holes, and are safe from the angry river. But the river rages on.

The power of the water is soon too much for the branches that caused the dam, and they break, floating down the river as it comes gratefully back to its bed. 

Finally, the rain comes, cleaning out the smoky air and flooding the forest with new hope. The nightingale returns to its branch, now bare but still home. There is joy, but grief too, as the animals stare around at their ruined woods. Fox kits mourn for their dead mother. The river sighs and will never be the same. And the leaf’s ashes blow away, going farther, farther….

Here's mine:

It was a cold day. The worst I've ever seen.

I looked out at the cold wasterland, that I once called home.

"AHHHHH!!!!! FLASH, STOP THAT!!!" I screamed, as Flash's ice cold hand (Which I presume he had stuck in the freezer) interrupted my thoughts about the book I was writing.

"Hahahahahahahaha!!!!!! Brad, you so seeeeeeerious!!!!" Flash said, in this really dopey voice that sounded like he had JUST had some chocolate syrup, which I NEED FOR MY DRINKS!!!!!!!

"YOU DON'T STOP THAT, I WILL PERSONALY THROW YOU OFF A CLIFF, WITH YOUR PIG, INTO SOME LAVA!!!!!!!!" I screamed at him. "AND MY NAME'S NOT BRAD, IT'S BRADLEY, AND IF YOU DON'T STOP CALLING ME BRAD, I'LL ALSO THROW YOU INTO A TOASTER!!!!!!!"

"Ok, ok, just wanted to deliver this for you." Flash said, handing me a letter. As fast as he came into my room, he left.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm not opening this letter." I said, heading downstairs to have some dinner.

"Hey, Bradley," My little sister, Amy said. "When will you be going back to fight for world peace?"

"Not ever, Amy, not after what happened last time." I told her.

I remembered that terrible incident; My friend, Tyler had gotten injured, so as I carried him to the transportable hospital, I stepped on a land mine. Luckly, Tyler took most of the blast. But that incident left me with me having to have porsetic legs.

After dinner, I went to my room and finally opened that letter.

'Dear Bradley,

You might remember the incident that cost you your friend's life. Well, we have found him, only as a ghost.

He requests to see you immediately, so he can bring you to his world. Forever.

But you already are. The fire you dreamed about, wasn't a dream. It killed your family, all of your twenty-five siblings, and your mother, and you.

Signed,

The Ghost Facility'

I dropped the letter in shock.

And that's it. Did you like it?

I couldn't really decide whether this was a poem or short-ish story when I wrote this, so it looks really long but it's not that bad...?

Once upon
A
Time,

In a forest filled
with flame;

There lied a
single
wisp

of burning
Faeiries' bane.

Alone,
scorching all
that
he touched;

But soon came
the rain,

And then
there were
two, standing there--
Together in the rain.

The little
water-lass
stood there--
where she had formed,

Darkness seeping
into all,
faded moth-wing leaves
crackling under opposing-born.

Then the little water drop
took a chance
and
smiled.

The tiny flame
stood--
stunned--

Before
taking a step
forward

To take
the other's
hand.

But upon joining,
as was bound to be,

The little flame hissed
where touched,
tiny water drop
bubbling and steaming.

The two exchanged a
sad glance

Before holding up a rock
'tween them,
a symbol of this chance.

Gazing upon the desolate
forest,
bare and blanketed in
chalky ash;

There the two
found shelter

Nestled between
a spiral
of
stacked rocks.

'Twas there the
bleak sun
carried out it's
final course;

Setting, and sinking
to a sea of ink
and mystic flecks of silver.

But as the morning
rays

Dispelled
the waning
darkess;

The little flame awoke
to the
receding figure

Of
his tiny teardrop
friend.

Alas, soon he noticed
a fine string of ants

Carrying away the pebble,
the token
of his friendship.

Running along,
to retrieve
his friendship pebble,

However, just as our little
friend
caught his tiny rock,

A large shadow
Was suddenly cast

Upon the little pebble,
and our little flame
was trapped.

Caught in
an old man's
lamp,

He was carried
far away

To a small
greyed shack,
where he could only
watch the days fade.

But there was
a single ray of hope

When he saw his
raindrop friend climbing
the up to his latern-prison
to help him cope.

And as the day wore on,
and from daytime
to night,

The little raindrop girl
fell into a slumber
right beside the light.

But from the heat
of the
flame

She soon began to
disappear,

Lilting up,
as steam,
until she was
no more.

Our little flame,

who had tried to escape

his glass cage

As he saw
the situation
unfurling

Soon gave up,
consumed by sorrow
at the last trace of steam
on night breeze curling.

Standing alone again,
this cruel and cold
world filled again
With darkness,

But as night had come,
The lamp was turned off,
And our friendly flame now
was no more.

But as his smoke drifted up,
So were his spirits lifted up,

As in the night sky he saw
his little friend
The girl from the water-drop,

Still steam, as was smoke
And they embraced each other,

Finally with nothing to separate

The newly freed sister and brother. 

The red robed things rode behind him.

howdee ran as fast as he could but they rode horses and he wasn't what you'd call athletic. They didn't stop. The wall was right ahead and if he could climb it...

no such luck. several of the red robed ones steered right in front of him. he switched gears to "survive". As he ran suddenly a group of people stood in front of him. They wore yellow jumpsuits and masks. "come with us to freedom!" one yelled. "Come with us to safety." a red robed man yelled.

Freedom or safety? If you chose safety skip the next paragraph. 

Freedom: Howdee followed the strangers to a camp. surrounding him dozens of cheering laughing strangers danced with each other. suddenly two of them rose to the stage they surrounded. They began to play music and sing. "we welcome" one yelled "a new recruit" The people around him screamed and roared with joy. He has freedom. He has hope. He is a bandito.

Safety:The robed figure dragged him into his cold cell. Howdee waited until they were distracted and he ran. 

The red robed things rode behind him.

howdee ran as fast as he could but they rode horses and he wasn't what you'd call athletic. They didn't stop. The wall was right ahead and if he could climb it... 

I posted this last week in the short story contest, but I'm not entirely sure it even focused on the theme of "forest." Only technically, right?

~~~~~~~~~~

The Forest is a dangerous place.

You don't need legends to know that. Just looking at the bright colours and strange shapes of the leaves and vines, twining around trees and other plants' stalks, as if trying to strangle them, tells you more than any simple warning could.

You feel there's more to those large, poison-soaked leaves, too. They're meant to hide something. You can hear it every time you turn away, in each time you step closer; curious at what lies within, but knowing you're too afraid to venture any deeper than the thick grasses at the entrance.

They know it too. They're laughing at you, mocking you behind their petty disguises, only to flit away; just a fleeing shadow left for your eyes every time you strike out at the canopy with a stick.

And yet their chatter betrays them. You know they're there, thinking they'll be so secure forever. Hidden from the world because of their weakness and cowardice. Repulsive. 

You'll show them.

Everyone in the village tells you to mind your own business, to leave them alone. But by the gods, you'll show them.

Yes, you'll show them.

That's why you don't flinch when the stick falls from your hand. It's why your face remains calm when angry orange bleeds into the sky, stealing away the clear purple's throne. It's why something deep inside dances as the stars change from white, to red, to black, obscured by thick grey clouds pouring up. It's why a soft laugh pours from your lips when you see the tongues of flame lick at the heavens, forest ablaze.

Yes, that'll teach them. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Although I don't condone this type of thing, I find that it's interesting to explore why people do.

P.S. Bella says bione! ... I have nothing to say.