by Eric Smith
“What?” she asked, unhooking her lock, and then glanced at the empty spot where Marigold was usually locked up. “Oh, that’s right. So how do you propose we get to your magical garden?”
“Are you sure you want to go?” Leila asked. “It was a lot to take in.”
“I’m not going to let you face this alone, whatever it is,” Sarika said, resolutely.
Leila gave Sarika a friendly nudge, and pulled out her phone. She stared at it for a beat.
“What is it?” Sarika asked, nodding at Leila’s phone.
“It’s just, I’ve already asked him for help. Landon. Like, yesterday,” Leila said, looking down at the glowing screen. “And it was an intense day.”
“So?” Sarika asked, shrugging.
“I just don’t want to seem all ‘princess’ or ‘damsel in distress,’ you know? Is it normal to call a guy, like, the day after we first hung out?”
“Leila. There is nothing normal about this situation,” Sarika said, grinning. “I don’t think you can Google for advice on whether or not you should call a guy you’re maybe interested in after you’ve seen magical mythological beings in the woods outside an abandoned historic mansion together. That would be a very niche think piece.”
“Fair enough,” Leila said, smiling. She scrolled down to Landon’s name on her phone and hit “dial”.
Sarika Paprika
@TheSarikaPaprika
Sorry #SarikaTheBarista fans! Something’s come up. I’ll be back to @AdamsPhillyCafe this weekend! First one to RT gets a coffee from @WithouttheY!
8/24/17, 9:47AM
38 Retweets 7 Likes
Stallwood @WilhelmStalw00d9m
@TheSarikaPaprika @AdamsPhillyCafe noooooooooooo! cc @krummali
Allison @krummali7m
@wilhelmstalw00d @TheSarikaPaprika @AdamsPhillyCafe there go my plans for the afternoon! Ugh!
Sarika @TheSarikaPaprika5m
@wilhelmstalw00d @krummali @AdamsPhillyCafe sorry guys! You were the first to RT this though, so coffee on @WithouttheY next time you’re in!
XVI
“So, where’s your owl friend?” Sarika asked as they made their way down the trail towards the Thomas Mansion and the grove where the dryads lived. Landon had thankfully picked them up at the café and driven them out here. Today he wasn’t dressed in his uniform, but some ripped jeans that looked as though they’d been on endless hikes, paired with a black t-shirt with Hedwig from Harry Potter in the center and the word “HERO” in fancy typeface below the illustration.
Landon smiled sadly as they walked, and moved closer to Leila. There it was again, even without his park ranger uniform on, that smell of sawdust, sweet and surprising.
“He’s resting, back in the Trust. He’s been a bit out of it lately, not sure why,” he said with a soft shrug. “Yesterday was a good day for him despite the, uh, unusual circumstances he found himself in.”
“Not used to magical tree spirits?” Sarika asked.
“It’s just up ahead,” Landon continued, seeming to ignore Sarika’s joke and looking back towards the trail. “Some people were here a bit earlier today, some contractors. I heard it over the CB.” He tapped the walkie-talkie on his hip. “I might not be at work, but it’s nice to keep up with what’s going on. Kinda hard to turn it off sometimes.”
“I know what you mean,” Sarika said, pulling out her smartphone and flipping through something on the screen. “People are not happy that I bailed on the café today.”
“Sorry about that,” Leila said, resisting the urge to take out her phone and look at her mentions. Ever since Sarika had said she wouldn’t be at Adam’s, her phone had been lighting up with alerts.
“Eh, it’s just the Internet.” Sarika shrugged. “They’ll forget all about my horrific deed by tomorrow morning, despite the fact that I am clearly a monster. Not coming in to make them coffee, how do I live with myself, you guys? How?”
“Seriously, you should be—” Leila started, and then stopped.
The path leading towards the mansion had been widened since the day before. A number of the shrubs and trees that had blocked their way or made things awkward for them yesterday had been cleared. Off to the side of the now-widened trail were the remains of the plants and brush that had been cut from the trees or ripped from the ground, the brambles almost making a wall along the trail.
“Wow, they really have already started working up here,” Landon said, looking over the trail and the bushes piled along the way. “This was all in the road just yesterday.”
“The dryads,” Leila said, her heart beating madly. She darted up the trail.
“Leila, wait!” Landon shouted.
“Come on!” she heard Sarika yell as she rushed forward, her feet hitting the now-clear dirt path harder with each angry step forward. She still had too many questions. What was her father like? How did she end up in foster care in the first place? She had a chance to finally connect with a part of who she was, and she wasn’t about to let some fools with axes and sheers ruin everything.
Not just for her, but for the world.
Philadelphia wasn’t really the world, she knew that. But the dryads’ claim that their demise would bring about the crumbling of the city shook her, even if she wasn’t quite sure she believed any of it yet. It brought up too many questions. Were there other mythological creatures throughout Philadelphia, or even the world, that clung to life and subsequently supported all of ours? If there were dryads in the wilderness, were there mermaids and sirens in the sea?
The questions pounded against Leila’s skull. The pain from her bike accident still thundered inside, blending with her more practical, slightly less magical concerns. She imagined Sarika’s family having to leave their home, the old group home being shut down, Jon and Lisabeth having to leave their lives and their careers. Would the air became unbreathable? The soil ruined? What was it that would happen, exactly?
She ran.
For herself.
For her friends.
For the family she was just starting to feel a part of.
She stumbled to a stop against bright-yellow construction tape that blocked the end of the trail, crossing over it in a giant X shape, hung from two nearby trees. Leila ripped it away and flicked the frayed, yellow plastic from her as the mansion came into view. The ruined building now had the same thick, yellow tape all around it, a number of nearby trees had bright red Xs spray painted on them, and several shrubs were coated in blue spray paint.
Her eyes darted to the path behind the mansion that led out to the gardens, and she rushed down it, ducking under more yellow tape hanging from the archway. In the gardens behind the home almost everything was marked with the same bright-red spray, and she pushed forward until she came to the entrance to the grove, which was also marked with red.
She no longer had to weave her way in and out of branches or step over brush as she walked the path into the grove, so much of it had been cut and cast aside. Here, too, the trees were marked with red Xs.
“No, no, no,” she muttered, moving forward, her feet hitting the hard dirt path. She could hear Sarika and Landon hustling behind her. The light from the grove was just up ahead, bright and beaming, where the canopy opened into the secret, hidden nook. She burst out into the grove and the sun flooded her eyes. And everything came into view.
The rocks that lined the grove were marked with white Xs, and a number of the trees that surrounded it were marked with the bright-red Xs. The three center oaks, the trees where Karayea, Tifolia, and Shorea dwelled, were still standing tall.
But they were marked.
Leila walked into the grove past the spray-painted stones.
“Karayea?” she asked, looking directly at the center tree. “Tifolia? Shorea?” She was surprised at the fact that these strange-sounding names were already permanently seared into her mind. It
took her days, sometimes weeks, to remember the names of new kids that came into the old group homes, and sometimes by the time she had them set to memory those kids were on their way out.
She walked up to the center tree and ran her hand over the bright-red X. Bits of red paint came away on her palm. She glanced up at the tree’s leaves, surprised to see they were changing, as though the autumn months were already on them. Her eyes flashed to all the dryads’ trees, the trees that bordered the grove, and those down by the path. Mixed in with the greens now were pops of yellow and red, and some light brown. The leaves were changing color way too soon.
“M-mom?” Leila whispered, the word feeling heavy and foreign, full of unsaid things. Her heart was racing. Were the people who did this still here? Could they hear her?
“Leila!”
She jumped and spun around. Landon and Sarika hurried into the grove, both looking worn and exhausted.
“Sweet Jesus, girl, I had no idea you could run like that,” Sarika said, huffing and trying to catch her breath. “All that bike riding has certainly paid off cardio-wise. I’m dying. I think I’m dying.”
“Oh my God,” Landon said, moving towards the grove. He dropped down on one knee and put his hand against one of the spray-painted rocks, and Leila saw his hand come away with wet paint on it. Leila walked towards him, her heart sinking. The dryads weren’t coming out, and there was Sarika, looking about intensely, clearly taking everything in.
“The assholes were just here,” Landon stood up, balling up his hands into fists. He straightened his shoulders and narrowed his eyes, looking at the trees. He turned to Leila. “Anything?”
“No,” Leila said and shook her head. “But look at the trees. The leaves.”
Landon stared up at the canopy, his head turning this way and that as he walked into the grove, and he put his hand against one of the trees. He wiped off some of the wet spray paint with a finger. He poked around at the ground, and Leila turned and walked over to Sarika.
“This is really weird,” he said, sucking at his teeth. “They shouldn’t be changing this soon.” He paused, thoughtfully. “You don’t think—”
“Don’t say it,” Leila said, surprised to feel a sob threatening to come up.
“So this is it?” Sarika asked, looking up at the canopy. “I mean, it certainly feels like a magical place, you know. How’s all this work? Are you going to like, summon them or something?” She grinned. “Is there a song?”
“Don’t make fun of this,” Leila said, trying to sound less hurt than she was.
“I’m just trying to lighten the mood,” Sarika said, a frown on her face. She walked over and hugged Leila close, and Leila could feel herself starting to choke up. “I believe you. Whatever it is, I will always believe you.”
“Last time they just came out,” Leila said, her shoulders heaving against Sarika. “Landon saw the whole thing, he knows.”
“It’s true,” Landon said.
“Maybe they’re upset or something,” Leila mused, letting go of Sarika and turning to the grove. Roughly cut bushes and spray paint were everywhere.
“Yeah, well, if a bunch of strangers came into my home and painted all over my things, I’d probably stay in all day, too,” Sarika said. She stopped at the path leading into the ring of stones, and knelt down at one of the rocks. “Look at all this. This is, like, centuries old. Who just tears down something like this? And why wouldn’t these dryads just, you know, appear and stop everything that’s happening to them?”
“We only appear in the presence of our own,” spoke a familiar voice.
Leila looked up as Karayea stepped out of the center oak tree. Her movements were slow, precise, not as fluid as the last time she approached her. Sarika backed away, bumping into Leila, and promptly grabbed her hand.
“It’s okay,” Leila said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. Landon peeked out from the other trees and made his way over to them, taking a wide stride around Karayea as she walked towards the edge of the circle. He gave her an awkward nod hello, and Leila grinned. It was the sort of awkward, quick greeting one gave someone familiar at a café or in the hallways of school. Not an ancient creature of myth that had existed for centuries, maybe millennia.
It was cute, in its incredibly unusual way.
Landon joined Leila and Sarika outside the circle as Karayea reached the edge of the stones.
“Oh,” Leila said, catching a gasp in her throat. “Your arm.”
Karayea slowly looked down at her arm, her neck creaking like a branch in the wind, and frowned. There was a bright-red mark on her right arm, a bit of spray paint from the X that marked the rest of the tree.
“It’ll fade in time,” she said, her words slow and measured, as she looked back up at the trio. “The poison will wash away with the rain and new growth.”
“Poison?” Leila asked, her heart hammering.
“There are toxins in this color that the humans put on us. I fear it has affected my sisters more than me.” She slowly turned and looked at the other two trees in the grove, which hadn’t moved or opened. “They aren’t as eager to talk to anyone right now, especially to the one with the bird. The one who is supposed to protect us.”
“Me?” Landon asked, surprised. “What did I do?”
“It’s what you failed to do. The men who came with the torches of color,” Karayea continued. “They wore your colors, the ones you bore yesterday, and the ones Leila’s father bore ever so long ago. You and your people, the caretakers, the ones we have trusted for so many years, have turned against us.”
Landon shook his head, and turned to Leila and Sarika.
“There was a maintenance call on the CB yesterday for a project today,” he said. “It must have been this. I’ll have to talk to the crew. They’re just doing their jobs. They don’t know about you. If they did, there’s no way they would have done any of this.”
“How . . . how is this happening right now?” Sarika asked, her focus on no one in particular.
“You,” Karayea said, extending a gnarled hand towards her, her fingers like twigs and vines. “I know you. I know your voice from the winds. You have guarded my sapling all these years. Protected her. I have listened to you two together when I could. I thank you, young guardian.”
“If I faint, please don’t let me hit my head on a rock,” Sarika said. Leila wrapped an arm around Sarika and hugged her close.
“What did they say?” Landon asked, taking a step forward. Leila looked up at him as he walked towards the dryad. “The men who came here, with the paint and the shears, cutting things. Did you hear them talking about anything? Their plans?”
Karayea shook her head slowly, the vines and leaves rustling on her head.
“They spoke of things unfamiliar to me,” she said, speaking as though she was forcing out every single word. “A museum, a marker, a mouse, and a man.” Her voice faded as she spoke, drifting with each word, and she abruptly fell to one of her knees. An audible crack echoed through the grove as she hit the hard earth. As if a massive gust of wind had hit the grove, piles of leaves fell from the neighboring trees, fluttering down and turning unnaturally quickly from green to red to yellow to brown.
“Oh, God!” Leila shouted, rushing forward as more leaves fell around her. She reached out and touched the dryad, gripping her branch-like arm, and felt the hard wood, moss, and ivy around it as she helped her back up. “Are you alright?”
“I am unsure,” Karayea whispered, her head down. The leaves and vines of her hair tickled against Leila’s face, but weren’t as bright green as they had been. Leila gazed down, and quickly noticed a large break in Karayea’s branch-like leg.
“Oh, oh no,” Leila said, looking up towards Sarika and and Landon. “Help me, let’s get her back into her tree.”
“Will that help?” Landon asked, hustling next to the dryad.
> “I don’t know!” Leila said, panicking.
Landon quickly put an arm around Karayea, and Sarika joined Leila by Karayea’s arm. Together they walked her towards the center oak, the split wide and maw-like. It only split halfway down; Karayea had stepped out of the center of it.
“What do we do?” Leila muttered, looking at the large space.
“I’ve got her,” Landon said, wrapping his arms around Karayea, lifting her up. “My goodness, she’s heavy.” He placed her back inside the tree, and Karayea reached out to grip the sides of the oak and hold herself in place.
“I . . . I must heal or . . . or the land will suffer,” she muttered. “Go . . . Give me time. Find these men if you can . . . If you cannot . . .” She looked up, her bright green eyes fading into brown, and reached out her brambled hand to run the rough, bark-like fingers over Leila’s cheek. “You must go. Take your new family, your friends, and leave this city. Go where there is green. I want you to thrive, my sapling.”
She pulled her arm back into the tree, and leaned against the inside, closing her eyes.
The earth rumbled softly, and Sarika grabbed onto Leila, who in turn held her close, as the oak tree began to rustle. The leaves shook above them, and the front of the tree sealed up with loud snaps and cracks until it looked as though nothing was there at all.
THREAD: PROTESTING IN FAIRMOUNT PARK
SUBFORUM: PHILADELPHIA
PROTESTING IN FAIRMOUNT PARK
Posted by WithouttheY
AUGUST 23rd, 2017 | 8:02PM
I know it’s been a while since we organized to really do anything, but recently, an historic mansion and (more importantly) an ancient grove of oak trees have become the target of demolition in Fairmount Park. It’s in an area that doesn’t get a lot of foot traffic—in fact, it gets none. They are planning to place an amphitheater in there, and build a road into the area from Kelly Drive.
Anyhow, I’ll be assembling near the Horticulture Center to do a bit of protesting, and taking to social media to tell people what’s going on. I hope some of you will join! Just chime in if you’re interested, and I’ll send you a DM with details. It’s a public board, after all.