Darkly Wood

by Power, Max

  The man as Benjamin had already explained was a simple enough soul. Simple that is, in his needs. He was a plain living, plain speaking man with a plain name to match. He was called John. It was never Jack, Johnny or Big John, Little John or abbreviated in any way. He was just John.

  Nothing extraordinary ever happened to him and to be fair, John was content for his life to be just so. It seemed contentment spawned disinterest in any excitement or new challenges. So happy was John that he had sworn that no matter what, life could not get better than it was. No financial or other gain could magnify his happiness and thus he felt secure in his joyous though mundane life. Life was good, life was sweet. He was indeed right. However, what John had neglected to consider in his almost smug contentedness was, that although things might be rolling along very nicely, the sad fact of life was, that things could in fact, always get worse.

  One ordinary Sunday, much like all the other ordinary days in his life, John decided he would go for a walk up towards Darkly Wood. It was his custom to go for long walks by himself on a Sunday morning. He would return home with a selection of newspapers and make his darling wife and son a full cooked breakfast.

  On that particular Sunday, John chose a different path to the one he usually took. Normally he would skirt the forest edge from the eastern side, following its bend westward then northward, before eventually doubling back on himself to return home. Darkly Wood was quite large, so walking the entire way around its perimeter was a pretty monumental task and John had never attempted it. Besides, in order to do so, one would have to cross several stretches of private land and although there was an ancient right of way, some of the Wood’s neighbours were objectionable. On the day in question, John headed East instead of west and cut into the edge of the tree line, breaking away from the easier track available to him. In doing so, John did something almost remarkable. He did something different.

  As a keen amateur local historian, John was familiar with the stories and legends that were associated with the Wood and as he walked he considered their merit. How he wondered, could a place gain such a reputation? Certainly there was some truth behind at least a number of the tragedies that had occurred there, but the notion which grew around the events suggested a more malevolent force behind them, more than just coincidence of location. That the Wood was an evil place seemed not just implausible to John, but impossible.

  While he was a religious man and believed in good and therefore to some extent evil, John considered the actions of people to be evil and not the people themselves. On that assumption, that people are not inherently evil, he similarly believed that a place could certainly not be evil.

  With these deliberations in mind, John did something out of the ordinary. For someone who loved routine and normality, John did something which in fact, turned out to be extraordinary. He wandered off the path completely. Of all the things he had ever done in his life, that one simple action was the most significant.

  It didn’t take John long to become disorientated in the tangle of trees. He watched the forest edge to keep his bearings, knowing that all he had to do was head back to the outer tree line to find his way back. But he did not understand the Wood. He underestimated the power of the place. At first, the path beneath his feet simply vanished. There was absolutely no track to follow and in order to progress; he was forced to clamber over a variety of obstacles, rocks, fallen trees and other natural features of the forest terrain.

  It was tough going and to keep going forward, to delve deeper into the Wood, John needed every ounce of his ingenuity and strength. Suddenly he felt more alive than he had ever felt before. It was amazing, John felt like a different person. He was enthralled and exhilarated by the challenge. John had never imagined that the forest held such a secret challenge as this. It was physical and tough but great fun and before he knew it, the light from the tree line at the edge of the forest had disappeared. He had been tempted and enticed; he had fallen for its charms. John had encountered the sweet taste of adventure and much to his surprise, he liked it.

  The light faded somewhat and John noticed the change. Immediately he was aware that somehow, he had got himself lost. He even laughed out loud. It was so unlike him. So John simply turned on his heels and made his way back the way he had come. It was not far. Well, at least that was what he thought. But pretty soon, he became confused. He thought that he had clambered over a particular crop of rocks but when he was presented with a choice, he couldn’t remember which one. There were many, and they all seemed familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

  Then as he continued to make his way back or at least that’s what he thought, John merely succeeded in getting more and more lost. The Wood led him hither and thither and always the way it wanted him to go instead of the way that he should go. John grew more concerned. Although, he was a plain man, John was also a very clever man. Not shining his light for the world to see was his choice. It did not mean that he had no light to shine.

  Having become hopelessly lost, John decided to stop for a moment and take stock of his position. It was a good decision. His first instinct was to try to get his bearings so he looked skyward. There was no clear indication from the now cloudy sky above through the thick canopy as to where the sun might be. So John looked around. He looked to the trees around him and checked each one carefully. Oddly, there was moss growing on all sides of all the trees, so his second plan for finding a compass bearing was gone.

  Not one to be beaten, John carefully surveyed his surroundings again. Not far away, there was a hollow log with several small dead pools of water scattered along its pocked surface. One was a good twelve inches in diameter and John immediately had another idea. The hem of his trousers had come away that very morning and as luck would have it, John had no time to repair the slippage permanently. Instead he had pinned the hem with a small needle from Anne’s sewing box. He retrieved the needle and carefully but vigorously rubbed it sideways on his hair. While he did this, John plucked a leaf from the nearest tree.

  He simply plopped the leaf into the centre of the small pool and carefully placed the magnetized needle on its centre. The theory was that the needle would spin the leaf around on the water, finally pointing north. The leaf spun. He watched and waited. The leaf continued to spin. Still he waited. The leaf spun. It spun and spun and kept up the momentum. There was no sign of it stopping. John watched the spinning leaf, flabbergasted. It was not possible but there it was. It was a baffling mystery but he was a practical man. If one thing failed, he simply needed to move on to the next thing. So John gave up on his makeshift compass, but not on his deliberations.

  He sat on a log and thought hard. The sky darkened considerably and he considered his surroundings once more. The landscape appeared to constantly change but never overtly. It was as though the very trees were alive and every time he turned away, they moved mischievously behind his back only to freeze again once he looked back again. It was so subtle it was almost imperceptible, indeed it was impossible. None of it made sense to John. He was just about to pick a direction and simply follow it, his best guess as it were when, he saw the boy.

  There was a boy, completely out of place, standing a good distance away, alone in the Wood. John looked around expecting to spot his parents or some of his friends perhaps, but there was no one else there. The boy was hard to make out through the trees. John moved a little to his right to get a better look at the lad and he considered calling out to him. But then something odd happened. The boy raised his arm and he gestured to John as though he wanted John to follow after him, before he turned and walked away. The boy was moving further and deeper into the Wood, as he disappeared from view.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN – SOLE SURVIVOR

  “You ARE Joking!” Daisy was astounded.

  “What?” Benjamin replied but he knew exactly what she meant.

  “You mean to tell me, that this John…this story...” she paused trying to get her head around what he was telling her and then she chang
ed mid-sentence, “...You knew this story? You knew about Woody and still you let me follow him in here?”

  Daisy sounded genuinely angry. Although she had read many of the strange stories about Darkly Wood, this one actually contained a reference to the very boy they were following.

  “Let you? I hardly let you follow him Daisy May,” he defended himself, “you took off. I had no choice but to follow you.”

  She cut him off straight away.

  “So this is my fault is it?”

  She was getting annoyed but as Daisy started to get her heckles up, she noticed a change again in Benjamin. His colour had changed once more. Benjamin was getting weaker still, right before her eyes and it was written quite dramatically on his grey face. Daisy had been listening so intently and with so much interest to his story that she had forgotten how unwell he was. He was such a good story teller. They had been walking at a snail’s pace but even so, Benjamin was struggling. When they stopped to argue, Daisy faced him and looked at him properly for the first time in a while. She stopped herself from having a go at him, even though the urge was strong and she changed her tone. Daisy took a gentle but firm hold of his arm.

  “Sit down you, never mind me.” Daisy gave him one of her biggest smiles.

  Benjamin was feeling very poorly indeed. He had been feeling that way for a while, but he just wanted to get Daisy out of the Wood so he hadn’t complained. Telling the story had distracted and helped him a little, but now he felt only worse. It was time to do as he was told. Daisy sat Benjamin down on the forest floor and plonked herself directly in front of him. There was nowhere else for them to sit.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Benjamin knew that Daisy was annoyed about Woody and the story. He sounded genuinely contrite and he felt uncomfortable with his condition. It was a terrible useless feeling that he did not like. On top of everything else, what Daisy had said to him, suddenly made him feel terribly guilty.

  “I told you before; I know all the stories about this place. I just thought that perhaps you should hear this particular one now, seeing as how things are the way they are.”

  It was the best he could offer and he hoped Daisy would understand. Benjamin didn’t have the strength or energy to argue. Daisy rubbed his lovely hand. It was so white and cold. She had never felt a hand so cold.

  “Never mind,” she assured him before revealing her concern. She couldn’t help herself. “You’re freezing?”

  It was a question wrapped up in a statement, but Benjamin had no answer for her. Daisy changed the subject. She had a habit of referring to the next thought that crossed her mind. It meant that she was prone to changing the subject mid-sentence. It was a trait that he was getting used to and it endeared her to Benjamin.

  “We’d better get on. It seems to be getting dark again,” she told him simply.

  Even though they were her own words, they sent a shiver of terror right through Daisy’s whole body. After the previous night, she couldn’t face another one in the forest. But she was confused. Daisy felt sure that the constant dim light was because they had woken up in the early hours of the morning. Now it seemed as though the evening was creeping in around them. They couldn’t possibly have slept through an entire day, could they? Or was the forest playing more tricks on them?

  Benjamin was already half way back to his feet, a new urgency, or at least as much as they could muster creeping over both of them. Daisy helped him up. Benjamin’s condition needed to take second place. They both knew it. Once again the forest felt like a truly dangerous place. An ominous foreboding entered their consciousness. There was no time to lose. No time to feel sorry for themselves. No time at all. So they started off again, determined not to be caught out in the Wood any longer than they had to be. For a few minutes, they shuffled along in silence, Benjamin relying on Daisy for support. But she simply could not stand it for long.

  The fear of the thing in the Wood was all pervasive and Daisy needed distraction. She thought of the thing that had stalked them the night before, real or imagined and it drew her thoughts back to the story of John. They had no idea where they were or where they were going. Daisy tried again to find distraction in the story. Perhaps there was hope at the end of it. Maybe even an explanation. Before she spoke, Daisy shot a glance at Benjamin. He looked the same, no worse at least. So she gave it a go,

  “Tell me? What happened to John?”

  He felt it too, the importance of taking his mind away from their predicament and he didn’t need to be asked twice. Benjamin continued on with the story as though he had never stopped. Although he felt dreadful, there was at least some comfort in talking with Daisy. She made him feel better. Just talking to her took some of the pain away. He leaned on her shoulder and her arm though small, felt strong around his waist. So he did what Daisy asked. He did the only thing he could do. He talked.

  Going back to his story, Benjamin explained that at first and acting on instinct, John had started to follow the boy. When he moved through the trees, disappearing from view, he had called out after him, and tried to catch up. He quickly caught sight of him again. However he could not seem to catch up and the boy always stayed the same distance away, constantly moving and he never answered John’s calls.

  But then Benjamin reminded Daisy, that John was a clever man. He quickly figured that this boy could well be leading him astray. There was nothing to suggest that he was being led to safety, so perhaps the opposite was true. If for no other reason than gut instinct, John once again stopped. For the second time that morning, he took stock of the situation and tried to get his bearings. Whatever way he looked at things, he was still lost. Something was wrong. None of the practical solutions to his problems seemed to work. No matter how hard he thought, or what path he chose, John simply got more and more lost. The boy was not helping. If anything, he was getting John even more lost. His first priority should not be following a strange boy through Darkly Wood. His first priority had to be finding his way out. Then he heard it. At first it was only a whisper on the wind, but it was definitely his name that carried on that breeze. Daisy immediately recognised the familiarity in the story and broke her silence.

  “Someone called his name?”

  She tried to stop walking, but Benjamin kept moving forward so she was forced to keep with him as he moved. He was dependent on her for support.

  “I can’t stop moving, Daisy May,” he told her, “If I stop, I won’t get going again.”

  His bluntness was essential and she understood. Daisy felt a little embarrassed not to have realised anyway.

  “Sorry Benjamin,” she offered, “it’s just that John heard a voice too, like I did.”

  “Let me finish the story Daisy May.”

  His voice remained calm and steady, but he was faltering. Daisy’s interruptions brought his focus back to how he was feeling. She recognised the problem and despite Daisy’s curiosity to have her question answered directly, she apologised.

  “Sorry,” she offered, “Go on.”

  “Where was I?” Benjamin asked forgetting his train of thought. Daisy reminded him and he continued his story.

  John it seemed was tempted to follow the sound, much like he had been tempted in the beginning when he had started to follow the boy, but something told him it was the wrong thing to do. That something was instinct and John chose to follow his instinct. Nothing else had worked and it was rapidly getting dark.

  But John was not blindly following a single instinct, for he had two conflicting instincts. One drove him on in the direction of the boy and the voice. That was the strongest of his instincts. The other told him to do the opposite of whatever his first instinct told him. He felt as though his original instinct to go into the Wood was wrong in the first place. John had followed that same instinct to follow the boy. In hindsight, those were bad choices. The secondary instinct seemed baser. He didn’t know it, but it was his instinct to survive that was tapping him on his shoulder, warning him of something bad. N
ow, John figured he might follow that secondary instinct. So he did just that. John turned away from the sound of the voice.

  Almost immediately the voice grew louder, calling his name. It called him to come back. It sounded pleading at first, but then became anxious in tone. John kept going and the voice stopped. Something else took its place. From up ahead, sounding as though it lay directly in his path, John heard low deep throated growling. He hesitated and then chose to ignore it. The forest was playing tricks on him so he took a deep breath and forged on. Quite remarkable, the moment he chose to move on, he thought he recognised a part of the Wood he had been in earlier. It was working. He had made the right decision.

  But then an ear-piercing blood-curdling howl split the Wood. The howl was a resonant primitive sound, as though it came directly from the hungry belly of a wolf. It brought him to a stuttering halt. Again the sound seemed close and he knew that whatever made it lay directly in his path.

  Undeterred and finding courage that he never believed he had, John pushed on. Somehow he found the strength to bypass his fear and suddenly there was a chink of brighter light in the sky above, as the forest canopy opened up a little. Miraculously almost, directly ahead of him was the very rock crop he had mounted earlier in the morning and the ground became more even beneath his feet.

  At first tentatively, he started to run. Initially, it was barely a trot but he quickly picked up his pace. John felt as though he had wings and he sped along, panting and laughing with exhilaration and relief. That very sense of relief, made John recognise just how afraid he had become. He wasn’t safe yet, but a virtual hysteria was taking hold from the excitement brought on by finally seeing a way out.

  But his laughter was cut short as he clambered up the steep craggy hill. Behind him the wolf howl cut the air again and something fierce surged along the forest floor, snarling and snapping, growling his name in a blood thirsty rasp, dragging the dark along the sky behind it as he closed in on John from the rear.