by Power, Max
Terror had never visited a soul as clearly as it did John in that moment. He dare not look back, although he knew that death scrambled up the rocky embankment hot on his heels, desperate for a taste of his blood. He throat became dry and sore and he tasted blood as if it rasped up from his lungs. The pain in his chest was incredible. Every ounce of his energy and strength was being employed to escape the thing that could smell his blood.
He scrambled onto the top of the ridge and something swiped at his ankle. John screeched like a little girl and kicked wildly back at whatever it was that wanted to keep him in the forest. Still unseen for John kept moving, he stumbled and fell, tumbling down the other side of the rise before rolling to his feet and breaking instantly into a run again.
He ran like before as though he had wings, but now the fuel was fear and the smile was a grimace. His heart thundered in his chest and it pummeled the inside of his torso. His muscles were on fire. John pumped his legs. He pumped his arms and he didn’t think he could keep up the pace for long though he knew he had to in order to escape. John couldn’t slow down, for he knew that some beast, some creature was there in the forest hungry for his blood. Worse still, John could hear it catch up with him through the undergrowth.
Sprinting for all he was worth, John cast a hasty glance over his shoulder and the movement in the ferns behind confirmed his worst fears. He could not escape. Whatever it was, that thing in the Wood, it was closing in too fast and John‘s hope began to fade. It was going to catch him. If he had lost hope in that moment, John’s strength would have faded completely. Hope was all he had left. But then, he saw a chink of light, literally. Up ahead, maybe one hundred yards or so in the distance, there was a break in the trees and light; glorious light, split the break and John knew that salvation was almost at hand.
A new burst of energy revealed itself, from where, John did not know. That he found the strength to keep going was all that mattered. The snarling gnashing thing was almost touching him now, as it clawed out wildly behind him. He could smell the thing and it smelt bad and the thing could oh so definitely smell him. Up ahead, John saw through the gap in the trees to the light of the meadow, but it wasn’t coming quick enough to save him. He could feel it now. He could sense that the beast would surely have him.
The thing that touched him and wanted him to stay in the Wood snatched at his ankles and John suddenly had the most awful sense of air beneath his feet. He was falling, flying in a way but without control. John’s body surged forward through the air at a great speed and in order to protect himself, he splayed his arms out ahead of him to break the fall. But they were of no great use.
For a moment, the world slowed as he watched the forest floor come up to meet him. Arms outstretched, legs now rising up behind him with the forward momentum of his upper body, John flew through the air almost horizontally, and finally his legs rising up higher than his waist and then time sped up again. At first he felt the whipping of the top layer of the ferns as they lashed his face and gave him a false sense of where the actual forest floor was.
BAM! He slammed into the ground with a combination of arms, shoulders and head. His legs carried on in a forward motion, tumbling him over arse about face, again and again. The forest floor was not a smooth surface and John grated and clattered, with every stone and branch and bump that presented itself on the ground. The crash when it came was mighty and painful and squeezed almost the very last drop of whatever energy he had left out of him. Eventually, he came to a shuddering halt. It was the longest few seconds of his life. When it was over, he lay in a heap, half upside down at the base of a magnificent elm tree. John opened his eyes and the world was upside down.
Very slowly, he allowed his body to slide down along the base of the tree, until he lay on his side panting heavily. Benjamin used the word ‘allowed’ when telling Daisy the story, but John really had no say in the matter. It was gravity and John had nothing left with which to resist. His chest burned and every muscle screamed with the fire of over-exertion. For what seemed a lot longer than it actually was, John lay heaving on the floor of the forest. The only movement that he could see was the heavy rise and fall of his chest, as he gasped for air and the only sound, was his own rasping greedy breathing.
He lay there afraid to move, unable to get up, completely consumed by fear and exhaustion, waiting. After a few moments, John struggled to sit up and scanned the forest around him. He could see nothing. Motionless, John waited and watched, but there was still nothing there. The creature, whatever it was, had gone. Never in his life had John felt such relief. Still he remained lying on his side at the base of the old Elm. He was exhausted and cut to shreds from his chase through the Wood and its clattering conclusion.
There were a series of long bloodied slashes on his left trouser leg from where that thing had clipped him as he clambered up the hill earlier. John reached forward and pulled the fabric apart revealing a frightening gory mess. The skin on his leg had been completely torn away and the calf muscle on his leg was shredded. There was a mass of blood and dirt from the forest floor, all mangled together with the pain. How he had managed to run on that leg at all was incredible. John figured he must have been pumping pure adrenalin, running on empty.
With the realisation that he was safe, the pain hit him. His leg hurt like nothing he had ever experienced before and he leaned forward to touch it.
“WAASSSHHHHISSSSSEEEEECHHHH!” screamed the beast as it dropped from above, landing at John’s feet and grabbing his leg by the ankle, flashing its pointed teeth, exposing its purple tongue. It was the scream of a beast, hungry and fierce and John’s torso snapped back away from the thing, instinctively.
He crossed his arms over his body, trying to protect himself. He had no shield; no weapon, nothing and his strength and resolve were all but exhausted. The thing hunkered down, splaying its knees either side of John’s damaged leg, which it picked up and held in both of its pale, long fingered bony hands. It watched John as if studying him, waiting for a reaction; the thing looked into John’s eyes. The beast’s eyes were huge and startlingly bright. John could see his own terrified reflection in them and the thing tilted his head. He seemed curious. John was too terrified to move and the creature, though weakened here at the edge of the wood, sensed his power over him.
He was pale and would have looked childlike, were it not for the fangs and the claws. The thing smelt really bad. John couldn’t help but wince. It was a smell like no other. It was an ancient, festering vile smell and it turned his stomach. As John watched him, he appeared to become more and more childlike before his very eyes and the creature felt it also. He looked about nervously and hissed at John. Something was clearly wrong.
The sound was a low vicious hiss and again John tried to protect himself by raising his arms to cover his face. But nothing happened. When he lowered his arms, the boy beast was looking at something behind John, beyond the elm tree. John saw an anxious look creep across the creature’s face and couldn’t help but follow his gaze. He could see nothing. But John heard voices so taking a great risk desperate to survive, John leaned sideways pushing himself up on his elbow just a little and peered around the tree. To his utter astonishment, he was only yards from the Wood’s edge and there were people out there somewhere. He could hear them and the beast could too. Instinctively John took a deep breath to fill his lungs. If he was going to call for help, there might be only one chance, so it would have to be loud. But he didn’t get a chance.
“HELP!”
That was the word he had intended to call out at the top of his voice. Instead, the sound that echoed through the trees of Darkly Wood was the sound of the most horrific scream imaginable. For as he was about to call for help, the beast knew he had lost. He was weakening by the second in the glow of the outer world beyond the line of trees. John had out-smarted and had almost outrun him. Here at the Wood’s edge, the beast boy’s strength was fading. That was, it appeared his weakness. He had to get back to where he belong
ed. He had to get back to the heart of Darkly Wood.
But before he did, the creature made sure that this mortal man would never forget him. Before he left, scuttling through the undergrowth, the thing that was not boy, not beast, sunk his sharpened rows of teeth, deep into the bloody mess that hung from John’s calf and ripped a great big mouthful of cartilage and muscle away from the bone and then, only then, did he run hissing away through the forest. The scream that was heard for miles around, was the sound that bellowed from John, as his flesh was ripped from his bone. But then the thing was gone. He had survived. His leg was savagely torn to shreds, but at least he was alive. The creature had given up, leaving John with the distinction of being the only person to have ever disappeared into Darkly Wood and find his way out safely again. John was to be the one legend that was never spoken about or put into written word. He was the sole survivor.
CHAPTER TWENTY – THE CLEARING
Woody had become impatient. The Girl and the boy were much too slow for his liking. At this rate they would never get to where he wanted them to go. He had to hurry things along. From his vantage point, he could hear their mutterings and mumblings, but the content of their chitter-chatter meant nothing to him. Even if he could understand what it was that they said, it would not have mattered. It would not have affected what he had in mind, one little bit. He knew somehow, that he should understand them and felt that soon he would, but not yet. Not here.
It would only become important when they reached the centre of the Wood. Yes, then he would know what they were saying. Not much in his world made sense and he spent so much time in a confused bewilderment while he waited for his prey, that the creature had no proper understanding of reality or normality. All that he knew was that events were fated. When the time came, he would know what to do. That much he was certain of. All he had to do was follow the plan. Whether it was his plan or a plan designed by another, it really did not matter. The beast somehow understood what needed to happen next in order to achieve success and he worked tirelessly to that end, ignoring all other distractions. He did one thing at a time.
Woody had a purpose and a plan and that was at the centre of everything. Sometimes things changed, but always the purpose and the plan stayed the same. Occasionally Woody had to adapt to a change in circumstances, but he never deviated from his task and his task would be completed. He was a creature of singular purpose.
Quietly, so quietly that below him Daisy and Benjamin never even noticed, Woody swung and climbed, slithered and hopped from branch to branch, tree to tree, until they were left behind. It wouldn’t matter. They could not get lost in Darkly Wood. Not lost to him anyway. The way was laid. There was only one way they could go now. Woody was in control.
People were only lost if they couldn’t find their way to their destination and Woody was sure of one thing. He knew, that Daisy May would get to her destination. Of that there could be no doubt. He chuckled as he returned to the blackened tree tops at the Wood’s heart. No, Daisy May was not lost, she was coming home.
From the perspective of Daisy and Benjamin below on the forest floor, there was still a bit of a way to go before they reached their destination, even if they didn’t know where that was, or what was in store for them. But for Woody it was only a short wait. He landed with grunt, dropping down from fifteen feet above in the canopy and he came out of his landing with a little hop. He had made it. Woody always made it. He was the most agile of creatures, a graceful ogre.
This was a special place for Woody and his entire face lit up as he breathed in deep, the air and smelt the smells of Darkly’s heart. The aroma that hung in the air and it did hang, for there was never any breeze in the heart of Darkly Wood unless Woody summoned it, was a truly dreadful thing. Words could not describe the smell. Putrid did not come close. Vile, rotten, stomach churning, rank, evil, nasty repugnant sewer smell, gone off death stench, were all just vaguely getting near the edge of a description for what hung in the air. To Woody, it was home and he breathed deep, that old familiar smell.
He stood at the centre of a near perfect circular clearing, surrounded by the dense heavily wooded forest. Every tree latched on to its nearest neighbour, blocking any possible path to this place. All of the trees were overcrowded with branches, each individual branch thick like a stag’s antlers, entwined in an impenetrable tangle, keeping this special place safe from intruders. For the most part they were leafless, but nonetheless dense despite their near naked appearance.
The trees at the edge of the circle were a mixture of pale and blackened wood, the very fiber of the wood blackening more and more as they rose skyward, until at the very top they look charred and burned. Overhead, some of the finger-tip branches reached across the gap that almost but not quite, closed off the sky as if trying to touch tip to tip but reluctant to make that final few inches and actually meet. Others bent right over, dangling down, more reaching perhaps, as if waiting to grab hold of unwary passers-by. They were a foreboding sight. The trees were things without beauty that suggested a dark force at work.
The clearing was wide at the bottom, a good one hundred yards in diameter and the floor was a mix of brown, black, burgundy and orange. The carpet was a variety of decaying forest debris and it looked smooth and soft. But nothing was as it seemed in Darkly Wood. The floor appeared to move and swirl, giving the sense of a carpet of leaves being blown innocently across the ground. But there was no wind here and the movement was not innocent. There was excitement in the clearing. The place was alive with anticipation. Though it had lain dormant for a long time, now that Daisy May was finally close, everything had changed.
Where Woody had dropped from the trees above, to land almost dead centre in the circle, scattered about him were a number of logs. They looked like someone had arranged them there perfectly like furniture. Where Woody stood, he looked as though he were centre stage, preparing for his audience. He was, in a way.
After a short while, he relaxed and strolled over to sit on the log directly in front of him. He smiled. Woody couldn’t help himself. His face was always pale but now it seemed almost translucent. Oddly he looked healthy. The shock of hair on his head looked thick and strong and his normally bloodshot wild eyes were clear and twinkling, darting left and right with excitement. He twiddled his fingers then drummed them on his temples. Woody was so excited he could barely contain himself. He was always like this when the time came. He just couldn’t sit still.
Quite suddenly as if a thought struck him, he jumped up and skipped across to another log opposite and dropped to his knees at one end of the log. For a few moments he considered the old, hollow log carefully. Then very slowly he reached inside. Few people would have put their hand into such a horrible place. The hollowed out log contained things so disgusting and slimy, things that were creeping, crawling and squelching. They were vomity things. Big things, small things, and things that bit and things that sucked at your skin, sensing what lay beneath and hungry to devour it. But Woody didn’t even notice. He reached in, until he was right up to his shoulder and felt for one particular thing that he knew he would feel. Again he smiled. The old memories worked as he found what he was looking for.
Clasping the metal ring in his fingers, he gently tugged on it to see if the mechanism was free to move, or if it had jammed since last he used it. It gave ever so slightly beneath his grip and he knew it was working. Woody released his grip and slid his hand back out through the horrible innards of the log and then he rubbed his filthy hands together. He stood up and laughed. Woody had a little trick up his sleeve. There was more to the boy creature than met the eye. He had spent a long time in the woods and an idle mind can be quite creative. Woody prided himself on his little invention. It was cruel and unnecessary, but he enjoyed his own little joke, so he laughed.
It was more of a secretive laugh really. A titter if you will. He couldn’t make too much noise. They would hear. Though stifled, he made some choked chuckle of a sound that could have been mistaken for a
proper laugh. But whatever it might be called, it was certainly a laugh and a laugh of pure joy. He looked skyward and decided to hurry Daisy May along. Woody couldn’t wait any longer. It was time.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE - SEPARATED
Something stirred in Darkly Wood. Daisy could feel it. Benjamin could feel it. There was a shift in the light breeze that blew gently on their faces and the leaves on the trees above, shivered and rustled loudly. The darkening sky seemed to lighten but only a little, as if to offer hope and the freshness of the wind that it brought. It lightened the heaviness in the air.
Daisy and Benjamin had not eaten all day and they were weakening from lack of food. Hunger was one thing, but they could survive for some time without food. More dangerous still was the fact they were both quite dehydrated and they needed some water soon. As if to answer their prayers, along with the whisper of the wind and the brightening sky, there came a noise that they both instantly recognised. It was the sound of tumbling, mumbling water. There was a stream somewhere nearby and it gave them hope on the double, for Benjamin knew that the stream would lead them to safety. It was the stream they had been looking for.
Neither of them had to say a word. They looked at each other and smiled. Salvation was at hand. Never has a sound inspired such strength or determination. The pair didn’t waste a minute. Following the sound and it wasn’t hard for it seemed to be right in front of them, Daisy and Benjamin knee-high-skipped through the heavy ground cover.
They didn’t have to travel far. Within thirty seconds, the sound of a gargling stream was just off to their left and they stopped to figure out exactly where it was. For some reason they had expected a clearing around the edges of the stream, but all they could see was dense thorny undergrowth. It was frustrating. The sound of the water was so close, it was as though they might be able to touch it if they just reached out and the sound deepened their already despairing thirst.