Into the Woods with the Dead Bodies
Into the Woods
“If you two don’t stop fighting over that goddamned toy, I’m throwing it into the woods with the dead bodies.”
That’s what my grandfather always said when my brother and I would fight over something. I was about four the first time that quote registered into my memory and ever since, I would always hear it. If it wasn’t a toy we were fighting over, it would be a lollipop or some other thing of little significance. Of course, we shortly stopped. We did not want our object, whatever it may be, to be thrown in the woods.
The woods were dark and scary. My grandfather’s little cabin was right next to them and every time we would go to visit them, we would see them. Fairytales like Little Red Riding Hood made the woods seem like a place for dangerous. Those stories were the adults’ way of making sure that little children like my brother and I would stay out of the woods and for the most part, we did. Occasionally, my grandfather would take us into the woods and to a small creek. This small creek was where the sun still shone and the woods in this area were not scary. In fact, my grandfather would say that this part of the woods was enchanted. But across a small bridge that went over the creek, the woods were cloaked with a cape of darkness. I would stare and squint, trying to see if something was in there. As soon as my grandfather notice me staring into the darkness, he pulled me away saying that there was nothing of interest. He said that’s where the dead bodies are.
Dead bodies…I was around seven when I began to wonder what he was talking about. Death to a seven year old was not a well known concept. No one in my family had died around that time. One night during dinner as I played with my peas, I questioned my parents as to what these dead bodies were. When those words escaped my lips, my mother let her silverware clang onto her plate and demanded to know where I heard it. Innocently, I told her that was what Grandpa would say every time we passed the woods. My father chuckled as he took a sip of water and I sat there, wide eyed and waiting for an answer.
“Honey…don’t worry, your grandfather is just a big jokester. He doesn’t realize that you are a little girl…” She mumbled something under her breath about calling her father and then she continued to eat. My brother, just five years old, said that dead bodies were monsters that lived in the forest. It sounded reasonable, monsters would eat little children. Grandpa was probably just trying to protect us.
The following day, Grandpa came over by the house. Smelling heavy of cologne and outdoors, he came and hugged me and my brother while my mother looked over with her arms crossed. She did not look happy and then she yelled at my grandpa, asking him what he was thinking about mentioning dead bodies. At that point, I told myself that those dead bodies must be really evil creatures. My mother was furious with my grandfather for telling me these things. He just shrugged and laughing…telling my mother that death was a natural part of life.
For the next few months, there was no talk of the dead bodies. My grandfather still threatened to throw our toys into the woods, but he did not say anything about the dead bodies. The dark area across the creek was no longer home to the dead bodies. It was just dark and dangerous according to my grandfather. I missed the talk about the dead bodies; I missed the mystery that something was there. At the same time, I didn’t miss it. Maybe the dead bodies are gone, my mother made my grandfather shoo them away.
Then one day, they were back. My mother brought them back. I had just turned eight when she told me to come into the kitchen. While chewing on peanuts, she told me to sit down right next to her; she told me it was time to know what the dead bodies were. With a bowl of roasted peanuts, she began to explain. Taking a peanut with its shell enacted, she told me that this was a person. Inside a person, there is a soul. However, over time, a person’s body can’t keep up with their soul. My mother then broke the shell in half. She said that while the body does not work anymore, the soul lives on and then God takes the soul and they go to a magical kingdom where all is happy. The body is then buried as a memory.
Then, my mother grew quiet and she said there were some bad people in the world that tried to break your body earlier than God intended it. She said these people hurt you and then they kill you by breaking your body. She smashed a peanut on the table and pieces flew all over. My mother said that these people then dump the bodies somewhere that no one would see it. She said they did this because they did not want a memory of the bodies. Some bad people dump the bodies in the woods, which is why Grandpa would joke about it.
I never understood her example, but shortly after that, my grandfather began joking about it again. This time, it did not seem as funny. My mother said dead bodies are placed in the woods so no one would remember them. It’s scary to think that could happen that people could forget about you. It did scare me and so did the talk about the dead bodies. Then, I lost it one summer afternoon and begged my grandfather to stop talking about the dead bodies, to stop talking about those forgotten. He got the message and never spoke of them again.
Years passed and I then learned once and all what death was. I learned what dead bodies really were. The answer was given to me through TV and newspapers. I read about women disappearing in the middle of the night, never to be seen again. Some women’s bodies were found: in rivers, trunks of cars, dumpsters. Men also disappeared, but women disappeared more frequently. Lately, there were many schoolteachers from the area also missing, some turning up days later.
I was fourteen at the time, a very well-read fourteen year old with hopes of becoming a police investigator, hoping that perhaps, I can give those bodies a memory. I can give the family of those people closure, knowing what their loved ones died of and who was responsible.
My grandfather had aged quite a bit, but he was still able-bodied. He worked long and hard, always wearing those flannel shirts and always smelling of cologne and outdoors. His joking did not continue, even though he saw me becoming interested in the dead bodies. He would just shake his head and smile. Every time he did this, he would look at the woods.
One spring morning, my grandfather decided to take my brother and me through the woods on a hike. We went our normal route, but I knew that day was not normal. It was the day I was finally going to go into the dark area, where the dead bodies were supposed to be. While my grandfather and brother were looking at birds in the tree, I took the opportunity to cross the little bridge across the creek. My grandfather and my brother never paid attention as I slipped into the shadows.
The dark area of the woods was at all very dark. After getting through the dark bushes, there was a clearing and sunlight trickled down from above. I was a tad bit disappointed, but before I turned back, I decided to explore the area that has haunted me for so long. There was nothing truly special about the area. The clearing lead to three different trails. I chose the one that seemed most traveled and walked down. The sounds of nature mystified me, birds singing, squirrels running from tree to tree. It was peaceful and it was so nature. For awhile, the smell of blossoming flowers filled the area making the breeze like perfume. After walking for a couple of minutes, the smell became sour. At first, it was faint…just came when a breeze came in. Then as the day continued and as I continued walking, it was intoxicating.
The smell could not be described; it was a smell so putrid it was making me sick. As I gagged, I tried to cover my nose, but the smell went through. The air became heavier as the stench overtook the flowery perfume. Gagging, I ran and tripped on a raised root which led down a small ditch. As I rolled down, I closed my eyes to avoid any thing getting in and then…I stopped. The smell was now horrendous; I could feel the vomit rising up. I heard a lot of buzzing and then…I opened my eyes.
Staring at me was a woman…with flies circling her. Almost immediately, I backed away and gasped. After the initial reaction, I moved up a little closer and with a nearby stick, I poked her. Under her skin was like liquid and the skin tore on contact with the stick. The smell was so bad, the sight was worse. Every creature imaginable from maggots to birds was feasting on her…on her dead body. From the looks of it, she might have been there for two or three days. There was a part of me that wanted to run and scream and look for my grandfather. There was this other part of me that wanted to stay and couldn’t move. Maybe I was paralyzed with fear, but I couldn’t move. This woman was a forgotten; her family didn’t know where she was. She was gone, someone cut her time short, a bad person like my mother would say.
As I stared at the woman, I could hear my grandfather and brother call my name. I sat there and puked, succumbing to the stench and sight. Getting up was not an option, I felt weak as if I was going to pass out. Finally, my brother and grandfather reached up to me and my brother was already gagging from the smell. He puked when he saw the body. All my grandfather did was stare at the dead body and he stared at me. It was a stare a never saw to him, a frightened stare. Like the stare of a child realizing he just got caught by his mother. Like the stare of a deer in the headlights, with nowhere to go. He rubbed his beard and quivered a bit as my brother also stared at him from the behind the tree he ejected his guts. He stared like a trapped killer, a trapped robber of life and maker of forgotten. He stared like he was caught and all he did was chuckle as he kneeled.
“If you two don’t stop fighting staring at me like I’m a killer, I’m throwing both of you into the woods with the dead bodies.”
My grandfather was right about the dead bodies in the woods…
That’s what my grandfather always said when my brother and I would fight over something. I was about four the first time that quote registered into my memory and ever since, I would always hear it. If it wasn’t a toy we were fighting over, it would be a lollipop or some other thing of little significance. Of course, we shortly stopped. We did not want our object, whatever it may be, to be thrown in the woods.
The woods were dark and scary. My grandfather’s little cabin was right next to them and every time we would go to visit them, we would see them. Fairytales like Little Red Riding Hood made the woods seem like a place for dangerous. Those stories were the adults’ way of making sure that little children like my brother and I would stay out of the woods and for the most part, we did. Occasionally, my grandfather would take us into the woods and to a small creek. This small creek was where the sun still shone and the woods in this area were not scary. In fact, my grandfather would say that this part of the woods was enchanted. But across a small bridge that went over the creek, the woods were cloaked with a cape of darkness. I would stare and squint, trying to see if something was in there. As soon as my grandfather notice me staring into the darkness, he pulled me away saying that there was nothing of interest. He said that’s where the dead bodies are.
Dead bodies…I was around seven when I began to wonder what he was talking about. Death to a seven year old was not a well known concept. No one in my family had died around that time. One night during dinner as I played with my peas, I questioned my parents as to what these dead bodies were. When those words escaped my lips, my mother let her silverware clang onto her plate and demanded to know where I heard it. Innocently, I told her that was what Grandpa would say every time we passed the woods. My father chuckled as he took a sip of water and I sat there, wide eyed and waiting for an answer.
“Honey…don’t worry, your grandfather is just a big jokester. He doesn’t realize that you are a little girl…” She mumbled something under her breath about calling her father and then she continued to eat. My brother, just five years old, said that dead bodies were monsters that lived in the forest. It sounded reasonable, monsters would eat little children. Grandpa was probably just trying to protect us.
The following day, Grandpa came over by the house. Smelling heavy of cologne and outdoors, he came and hugged me and my brother while my mother looked over with her arms crossed. She did not look happy and then she yelled at my grandpa, asking him what he was thinking about mentioning dead bodies. At that point, I told myself that those dead bodies must be really evil creatures. My mother was furious with my grandfather for telling me these things. He just shrugged and laughing…telling my mother that death was a natural part of life.
For the next few months, there was no talk of the dead bodies. My grandfather still threatened to throw our toys into the woods, but he did not say anything about the dead bodies. The dark area across the creek was no longer home to the dead bodies. It was just dark and dangerous according to my grandfather. I missed the talk about the dead bodies; I missed the mystery that something was there. At the same time, I didn’t miss it. Maybe the dead bodies are gone, my mother made my grandfather shoo them away.
Then one day, they were back. My mother brought them back. I had just turned eight when she told me to come into the kitchen. While chewing on peanuts, she told me to sit down right next to her; she told me it was time to know what the dead bodies were. With a bowl of roasted peanuts, she began to explain. Taking a peanut with its shell enacted, she told me that this was a person. Inside a person, there is a soul. However, over time, a person’s body can’t keep up with their soul. My mother then broke the shell in half. She said that while the body does not work anymore, the soul lives on and then God takes the soul and they go to a magical kingdom where all is happy. The body is then buried as a memory.
Then, my mother grew quiet and she said there were some bad people in the world that tried to break your body earlier than God intended it. She said these people hurt you and then they kill you by breaking your body. She smashed a peanut on the table and pieces flew all over. My mother said that these people then dump the bodies somewhere that no one would see it. She said they did this because they did not want a memory of the bodies. Some bad people dump the bodies in the woods, which is why Grandpa would joke about it.
I never understood her example, but shortly after that, my grandfather began joking about it again. This time, it did not seem as funny. My mother said dead bodies are placed in the woods so no one would remember them. It’s scary to think that could happen that people could forget about you. It did scare me and so did the talk about the dead bodies. Then, I lost it one summer afternoon and begged my grandfather to stop talking about the dead bodies, to stop talking about those forgotten. He got the message and never spoke of them again.
Years passed and I then learned once and all what death was. I learned what dead bodies really were. The answer was given to me through TV and newspapers. I read about women disappearing in the middle of the night, never to be seen again. Some women’s bodies were found: in rivers, trunks of cars, dumpsters. Men also disappeared, but women disappeared more frequently. Lately, there were many schoolteachers from the area also missing, some turning up days later.
I was fourteen at the time, a very well-read fourteen year old with hopes of becoming a police investigator, hoping that perhaps, I can give those bodies a memory. I can give the family of those people closure, knowing what their loved ones died of and who was responsible.
My grandfather had aged quite a bit, but he was still able-bodied. He worked long and hard, always wearing those flannel shirts and always smelling of cologne and outdoors. His joking did not continue, even though he saw me becoming interested in the dead bodies. He would just shake his head and smile. Every time he did this, he would look at the woods.
One spring morning, my grandfather decided to take my brother and me through the woods on a hike. We went our normal route, but I knew that day was not normal. It was the day I was finally going to go into the dark area, where the dead bodies were supposed to be. While my grandfather and brother were looking at birds in the tree, I took the opportunity to cross the little bridge across the creek. My grandfather and my brother never paid attention as I slipped into the shadows.
The dark area of the woods was at all very dark. After getting through the dark bushes, there was a clearing and sunlight trickled down from above. I was a tad bit disappointed, but before I turned back, I decided to explore the area that has haunted me for so long. There was nothing truly special about the area. The clearing lead to three different trails. I chose the one that seemed most traveled and walked down. The sounds of nature mystified me, birds singing, squirrels running from tree to tree. It was peaceful and it was so nature. For awhile, the smell of blossoming flowers filled the area making the breeze like perfume. After walking for a couple of minutes, the smell became sour. At first, it was faint…just came when a breeze came in. Then as the day continued and as I continued walking, it was intoxicating.
The smell could not be described; it was a smell so putrid it was making me sick. As I gagged, I tried to cover my nose, but the smell went through. The air became heavier as the stench overtook the flowery perfume. Gagging, I ran and tripped on a raised root which led down a small ditch. As I rolled down, I closed my eyes to avoid any thing getting in and then…I stopped. The smell was now horrendous; I could feel the vomit rising up. I heard a lot of buzzing and then…I opened my eyes.
Staring at me was a woman…with flies circling her. Almost immediately, I backed away and gasped. After the initial reaction, I moved up a little closer and with a nearby stick, I poked her. Under her skin was like liquid and the skin tore on contact with the stick. The smell was so bad, the sight was worse. Every creature imaginable from maggots to birds was feasting on her…on her dead body. From the looks of it, she might have been there for two or three days. There was a part of me that wanted to run and scream and look for my grandfather. There was this other part of me that wanted to stay and couldn’t move. Maybe I was paralyzed with fear, but I couldn’t move. This woman was a forgotten; her family didn’t know where she was. She was gone, someone cut her time short, a bad person like my mother would say.
As I stared at the woman, I could hear my grandfather and brother call my name. I sat there and puked, succumbing to the stench and sight. Getting up was not an option, I felt weak as if I was going to pass out. Finally, my brother and grandfather reached up to me and my brother was already gagging from the smell. He puked when he saw the body. All my grandfather did was stare at the dead body and he stared at me. It was a stare a never saw to him, a frightened stare. Like the stare of a child realizing he just got caught by his mother. Like the stare of a deer in the headlights, with nowhere to go. He rubbed his beard and quivered a bit as my brother also stared at him from the behind the tree he ejected his guts. He stared like a trapped killer, a trapped robber of life and maker of forgotten. He stared like he was caught and all he did was chuckle as he kneeled.
“If you two don’t stop fighting staring at me like I’m a killer, I’m throwing both of you into the woods with the dead bodies.”
My grandfather was right about the dead bodies in the woods…