The Woods (fiction)

The woods that surrounded her seemed… rich. She couldn’t think of a better word to describe them. It was like the feeling of having eaten her fill for the first time of the year during the Spring festival of Sangling. As she gazed about her she could almost feel it in her stomach. Heavy. Filling. Contented.

From the ground beneath her feet to the thick canopy above her head it seemed there was only vivid greens and earthy browns. Even the haze that filled the sweet-smelling air and blocked the early morning sun - or perhaps it was evening; she was uncertain - seemed to glow viridescent. She couldn’t see more than thirty paces, she guessed, between the trees and fog. Normally, this would have made her feel uneasy, like someone was watching her, but the tranquility made her more relaxed than she’d have guessed she could ever become. She had never dreamt of a place like this, much less set foot in one, but she felt like she had finally come home. Then again, she couldn't quite remember her real home at the moment.

She walked barefoot over loose soil, moss and twigs. Mushrooms protruded from the rotting bark of fallen trees. A single flower sprout was emerging from its bed of moss atop a large stone which jutted up from the slightly uneven ground. There was no wind or even the rustle of leaves, yet the air didn’t feel stale. It was fresh. Cool. Everything seemed so still. It was her greatest victory and her saddest heartache and her most breathtaking awe all put together, cut open, and frozen in time. It was the beauty of life - pain and all - made tangible. The only sounds she heard was her own heart and her own breath and her own footsteps as she meandered further into this vivid dreamscape.

She brushed her hand over the gnarled trunk of a tree. She had never seen one of its kind before. It was far wider than she could reach around, yet the tree was not altogether tall, but rather, squat. There was a small clearing around the obviously ancient thing where no other plant grew, as though out of respect. It looked as if several trees grew touching next to one another and somehow had their trunks twisted together with a quarter rotation, as though a braid of rope, fusing them for eternity. There was something tragically beautiful about it.

The lowest branches were within easy reach above her head. Next to the many thin green leaves whose shape reminded her of canoes, she spotted some type of small green fruit. Curious, she plucked one out and ate it. It was bitter and fairly unpalatable but not unbearingly so. Were she hungry she may have kept eating, but as she couldn’t remember what hunger felt like just then, she spit out the pit and kept walking.

She found a small stream. Rather, a stream seemed to somehow sneak up in front of her. She was standing at its bank before she even noticed the gentle sound of running water. Unconcerned, almost negligibly so, she dropped to her knees and cupped her hands. She didn’t drink because she was thirsty. She wasn’t. She drank because she felt like it was something she should do. Nevertheless, it was sweet and cool and satisfying.

She came to a clearing. Clovers littered the ground at her feet, covering every speck of soil with their soft green. The only exception was a smattering of wildflowers that dotted the earthen quilt. Hundreds of lightning bugs - no, not they, but something similar, perpetually dim, gently rose and fell all around her like the chest of a dozing animal. Though she wasn’t sleepy, she lay down. It seemed like the thing to do. She had no blanket, but couldn’t say if she was warm or cool. Temperature was another concept that was difficult for her to recall in this place. All she knew was the forest. Contentment. Unconcern.

She slept.

---

As if waking from a dream between steps, I came to my senses. I took what felt like my first breath for days, though I didn’t seem to be breathing hard. My lungs felt like they hadn’t fully stretched in a long while. I tried to think what I had been doing a moment before but couldn’t recall. I thought I remembered feeling… like I had a purpose to what I was doing. Like I had a motive. Something... Everything seemed hazy. When I was twelve I had snuck into old Serna’s pantry and gotten drunk off of a bottle of her wine. When I awoke the next day, besides a splitting headache, I remember feeling much the same way as I did now. I knew I had the memory in my head - I could feel it in there - but trying to read it was like grasping at a tendril of fog. Like recalling a dream an hour after waking.

I tried and tried, but nothing came. So, I had to stick to the questions I could answer. How did I physically feel, then? I searched my feelings for any that stood out. I didn’t feel any obvious injury. I was a little cold and very hungry. I must have forgotten to bring some of Grandpa’s apples in my pack when I went exploring today. That’s unlike me.. Remembering what our village Eldinar had said about blows to the head possibly interfering with memory, I checked for any bumps on my skull, but all I could find were countless nettles and pine needles in my hair. Still confused and mildly alarmed, I looked about to try and get my bearings.

Rolling green hills spread out ahead of me for miles. Patches of wheat could be seen alongside a stream far to my left. I realized with a start the sun was fairly high in the sky. I didn’t know if it was rising or setting, so I didn’t yet know which direction I was facing. For a moment I was struck with panic when I realized that if it was, in fact, the rising sun, that means I’d have spent an entire day out of my village. I’d never done that before. My grandpa would skin my hide. I’d have to bake him a whole dozen pies to make it up to him. He did tend to worry so. Realizing I had more pressing problems, I continued my survey.

Sparse trees could be seen dotting occasional crests. And more hills, more streams and more grass. Nothing at all that could tell me where I was. I saw not a single patch of tilled earth and not one telltale sign of frequent travel of humans. Not road, trail or track. But... Trees… There was something about trees. What was it? As I wondered what evaporated memory that could possibly be linked to, I turned to the next possibly clue as to what I was doing in this place. My body.

I was barefoot. My feet, I had suddenly realized, were killing me. When I examined them closer, I saw that they were clean. Not as though I had only just taken off my shoes a moment ago, but like I had taken only steps since I’d gotten out of a long spring bath. It made no sense. Where had my shoes gone? And if I had walked as far as my feet were telling me through painful reminders that I had, they should be filthy. The strangeness was truly starting to worry me now. Diligent, I kept looking.

Usually when I went on my daily ‘adventures’, I came home with fresh bramble scratches and the like on my ankles especially, but I spotted none, fresh or healing from the previous nights. What's more, the scar on my ankle I had carried ever since I had fallen down that riverbank 3 years previous had vanished. It had healed well and had never been visually obvious, but it was no trick of the light. It was gone. Now bordering on manic, I concentrated on finding at least a single scratch. Just one. I felt that if I found something - anything - I’d at least know my entire life hadn’t been one giant dream; something I was starting to seriously consider. Something was definitely wrong. What was it? I kept moving up my legs, searching. My calfs were spotless. My knees, pristine. My thighs as clean as ever. My… …

….

Why was I naked overlooking rolling green hills with no memory of my last few hours?! Truly panicked for the first time, I shot glances in every direction, sure that I’d see that Perish boy’s gawking face from some crevice of this damn place. I still remember that stupid boyish grin he gave me when he saw me in my shift the morning after Sangling last year. A very small part of me was at least appreciative of the fact that to him I was apparently appealing to look at, but that’s beside the point. I needed to focus. As I glanced around, now covering myself as best I could, I looked for the first time to what was behind me.

The Forest. It was the Forest. How could I have forgotten the Forest?

But…

What? What did I mean, “How could I forget”? What was special about this forest, again? I didn’t think I had ever seen it before. The trees… didn’t look familiar, I decided. I saw some pines and some birch and a few others I recognized, but I knew woods. They each have a different feel - a different ascetic. I’d recognize this one if I had seen it before. I was fairly certain that I hadn’t. Then again, I had ‘woken up’ when I was ostensibly walking away from it; As though I had just come from inside. What, in the light of the Stars, was going on?

Still somewhat frantic for lack of clothing, I quickly rechecked around myself for anything I might have dropped, like my bloody damned clothes, but saw nothing. Unsure of what else to do, I dashed back towards the forest, positive that if someone hadn’t already spotted me, they soon would. I figured it might be good to check just inside the forest I’d apparently just exited anyway, as I was woefully lacking in clues that would answer why the plot of my life was currently so… aberrant.

As I frantically ran back under the canopy of the not-altogether friendly looking trees, the thought occurred to me that I did, after all, want adventure. That was the entire point of escaping the village every chance I could get. As embarrassing as this was, it would make a good story. It was good sometimes to let yourself become embarrassed. Become the butt of the joke. It kind of trained you so the inevitable moments that you were truly mortified around people who may not be the friendly sort didn’t seem quite so awful. I thought I could even tell that Perish boy about it. His blush would be picturesque. A thing of beauty.

---

She giggled to herself as she slowed to a graceful, leisurely walk, but could no longer remember why.

Image by: Frozenstocks

#shortstory #woods #fiction