The Woods

A jolt of euphoria raced through my as I stepped through the trees. Simultaneously, a chill travelled the length of my spine.

Hardly any sunlight could get through the thick canopy overhead, so the interior was cool and dark. The eerie blackness stretched ahead of me as I let my feet steer me through the abyss. I could make things out more clearly the nearer I came to them, but the vast shadows made the trees look violent and menacing. Their sickly branches reached for me like mangled claws intent on settling around my throat and strangling me with their overpowering despair. I willed myself to walk faster.

Strange animals sounded in the dark. Birds unlike any I had ever heard cawed at me in obscene tongues and foreign noises, labeling me as an outsider to any who listened. Weak hisses curled around my feet and paws treading the same ground I had just walked followed close behind me. Still, no harm befell me those first few moments (hours?) in the woods, and I began to feel invincible.

With my unease came an unparalleled sense of liberation. I found thrills in every new cause for fear. Every slimy thing that creeped across my path made me squeal in both delight and disgust. It felt as if I were revisiting a long ago memory as I ducked under limbs and stepped over unidentifiables. Time was lost to me as I wandered, and my body felt no fatigue. My heart beat in tandem with the every crunch under my boots.

Perhaps this was the real reason my mother forbade me to ever enter the woods. She knew this place—with its great and terrifying wonders—would pull me from her and lure me with its mysteriousness. Could she have known my curiousity would call me so far from her? I knew in my heart that I could spend a thousand years wandering this strange place and still want to know more. Maybe this was what my mother had feared—that she would lose herself here and never go back.

It was hard to say how long I had been in the forest when I encountered my first, but certainly not last brush with death. It could have been five minutes or five hours. I certainly couldn’t see an exit anymore. The air shifted and I felt chilled right down to my very bones. Foliage pressed in on me from all sides, trapping me in an arbor prison. I hugged myself tight and rubbed my arms, attempting to generate heat, as I tried to remember from which direction I had come. It was nearly impossible to see in the darkness, but my other senses were on full alert. Every snapping twig or rustling leaf made me jump.

I was on the verge of surrendering to the weakness that had finally taken over my body when I heard a distinct growling from behind me. My heart seemed to freeze along with the rest of me. My woods would never betray me by setting animals loose on me. It was incomprehensible. My legs jerked uncomfortably as I continued walking in the opposite direction of the animal sounds.

It wasn’t long before I heard the growling again, and it occurred to me that I was being followed. My bone-tired body immediately went on full alert, and I strained to hear where the noise originated from. I stood very still, letting the sounds of the forest seep into my skin. There was the rustling of leaves overhead, the smooth slither of a snake gliding across the leaves at my feet, and, finally, the snapping of a twig somewhere very close behind me. There was no question of fight or flight, there was only how quickly my legs could carry me away from imminent danger.

I shot forward, stumbling madly through the low branches, frantically thrusting what I could out of my way. The rough bark scraped at my skin and clothes and got caught on pieces of my hair that I yanked free. Tears pricked at my eyes as I scrambled for safety. There was no doubt in my mind that I was being chased, eventually to my death. I was numb to any sort of terror, I just willed myself onward. I ran until I could no longer feel my legs or my chest, pushed myself beyond all physical boundaries, but I knew from the start it would not be enough. It was my destiny to die a tragic death at the hand (or claw) of some unknown creature, I suppose I had always thought it. The thought, I am almost ashamed to say, sent an extra shot of adrenaline into me and something almost akin to a thrill tingled in my stomach.

As quickly as it had come, the thrill vanished. I suddenly found myself standing at the precipice of sure death, and I suddenly stopped thinking of my situation as some great game. I was at the edge of a small river tucked deep into the forest, a wild thing of great fury and power waiting about five feet below me. I had never been an especially strong swimmer.

My pursuers came to a sharp halt behind me. Out of breath and out of options, I had no choice but to turn around and face them. I turned slowly, so as not to provoke them, and was greeted by the sight of five wolves, large and snarling and most certainly feral. Tufts of matted hair colored gray and brown and varying combinations of both stuck out wildly. Gleaming white teeth bared threateningly at me was not something I saw everyday. I yelped in spite of myself. Never before had I come in such close contact with anything resembling a wild animal, much less one that was about to make me its dinner.

But this was different—there they were, ready to attack, and here I was practically on a platter for them. Instead of springing themselves at me, they merely lowered their heads and fixed me with what I could only call scrutiny. There was something too intelligent about the way they were conducting themselves, too rehearsed, that I simply dismissed it as them toying with their food. I was shaking so badly I was afraid my legs would soon give out, and I was ashamed of myself as I started to cry.

“Well, this is the adventure you asked for, isn’t it? You couldn’t have just listened to me for once, Samson? I knew this would happen. The world is a dark and dangerous place, my darling, certainly not a place for a pretty little girl like you.” My mother’s voice sounded loudly in my head, both condescending and fearful. I imagined her twitchy little hands tangling themselves in my hair as she rocked me to sleep, her beady eyes shifting between the doors and windows.

Shutting my eyes tightly, I made my decision. I would not be a coward. I heard the unmistakable crunch of their first steps towards me. In response, I took one backward. I attempted to take the plunge nice and easy. Instead, I lost both my footing and my nerve and flailed wildly into the raging water below.

The water pushed and surged over my head keeping me trapped beneath the surface. Each time I got a hand through, another jet of water would spin me about, keeping me disoriented and panicked.

“Now look what you’ve gone and done, Samson. Can’t you ever just listen to me? I only want to keep you safe.” My mother called to me again for what I supposed would be the last time before I drowned.

I was quickly losing consciousness when my hand shot out and struck something bobbing above the water. I dug my nails into the rough surface and clawed my way to oxygen. It took several attempts, but I managed to climb on top of what I assumed to be a large tree branch that had fallen into the river. Every muscle in every part of my body ached, and my lungs burned for release. My head felt heavy and swollen. It seemed only natural that I let it drop onto my makeshift flotation device.

I never had time to revel in the fact that I had somehow survived. It no longer mattered, for soon I was no longer conscious.