The Lady of the Forests glided down the corridor of the hospital. She found it strange, the flat, hard, straight surfaces and unchanging colours that were barely colours. Why would people wish to come here when they were unwell? The soul must be healed for the body to get better and for that, nature is needed.
This is why she comes, why she is called. When there cannot be trees and streams and hills and sky, then she must come, to heal or soothe the ills the human doctors could not.
The man in that room, he should be prescribed two hours a day beside a calm and sunny sea. That woman shuffling across the common area? She should bask in the sun on a high-up rock for a full day, then take a second day to trace a stream to its spring.
She checked her appearance in the reflection of the windows. Just another junior nurse, tidying and carrying. She walked into the room, bringing with her the soft, salty smell of the ocean and a faint hint of waves’ hiss. She adjusted the curtains at the window, changed the drinking cup for a fresh one, checked the chart at the end of the bed and smiled at the man as she left.
Already his cheeks had relaxed and filled out.
Then bustling past the shuffling woman, leaving a memory of delicious warmth and the excitement of exploration.
On again, to another room, another woman. This one was not going to get better. All the more important for her to feed her soul ahead of her final goodbyes.
The DNA of Stories 