Who are you? -his own voice answers him! In a quiet town nestled at the foot of the ancient Everwood Forest, there lived a man named Eli. His skin was weathered and eyes a deep, stormy gray, reflecting the years he had spent as the local blacksmith. Each day, the clanging of his hammer against the anvil sang a tune of hard work and solitude that resonated through the cobblestone streets. The townsfolk knew him as a man of few words, but his craftsmanship spoke volumes. Eli's forge stood next to his small cottage, its warm glow casting a comforting light into the night, guiding the occasional lost traveler to his doorstep. Eli's days were predictable, a rhythm of fire and steel that he found solace in. The forest, a mysterious presence at the edge of town, remained ever-watchful, its secrets known only to the whispers of the wind through its leaves. It was said that those who ventured too deep never returned the same. Eli had always felt drawn to its mysteries, but his responsibilities kept him firmly rooted in the familiarity of his work. One evening, as the shadows grew long and the first stars began to peek through the canopy, Eli felt a peculiar sensation. It was as if the very air around him hummed with a question, a silent echo that seemed to vibrate in his very soul. He paused, hammer hovering over the red-hot metal, and listened intently. The sound grew clearer, and he realized with a start that the voice was his own, yet not. It was as if his thoughts had been given form, whispering a question that only he could hear: "Who are you?" The forge grew cold as Eli stepped outside, the question echoing in his mind. He stared into the forest's inky depths, where the trees seemed to lean closer, curious about this sudden disturbance in their quiet world. His heart pounded in his chest as the voice grew more insistent, the same three words repeated over and over. He knew he had to find the source of this strange phenomenon, driven by a mix of fear and curiosity that surpassed his understanding. And so, with a deep breath, he stepped into the woods, leaving the comfort of his known life behind.

By Carlos del Puente