by Amy Cross
“By the next morning, Alice was absolutely fine. She could no longer leave the forest, since a spell had been placed that ensured no living creature might die so long as it remained in that place. For her parents, this development was a miracle, and they offered the old woman all the gold she could carry in her cart. The old woman declined, however, and simply reminded them of the terms to which they had agreed. Believing that nothing could be more valuable than money, the kind simply waved her away and promised to give her anything she wanted, and the old woman withdrew. By the end of the day, she had been seen pulling her cart away from the forest, seemingly heading off to continue whatever journey had briefly brought her to the area in the first place.
“Alice continued to live a long and happy life in the forest, although she never aged at all. Her parents, meanwhile, grew older and increasingly infirm, but they were comforted by the sight of their daughter playing in her idyllic world. Although her father's business empire began to falter and eventually fell to ruins shortly after his sixtieth birthday, he cared not one jot; for he concerned himself only with the happiness of his daughter, which had been secured by the deal he had made. When he finally died at the age of sixty-three, he had no regrets at all, although Alice was inconsolable for a time as she came to terms with the death of a parent. Her mother followed soon afterward, but gradually Alice was able to find other matters to keep her mind occupied. A few distant relatives dropped by to visit her from time to time, but eventually they too faded away and Alice was left to play alone.
“In the years that followed, the forest was left largely untouched by outside forces. It was not so much a matter of people knowing the story of Alice, it was more that they all shared a subconscious understanding that they should not disturb her. Occasionally there were reports of a little girl heard laughing beyond the treeline, but no-one went so far as to claim that they'd actually seen her. The eighteenth century gave way to the nineteenth, and then to the twentieth, and by that point there were very few people left alive who had heard the full story about the forest. A road was eventually built around one edge of the land, followed a decade later by an extension that left the forest isolated from the rest of the land. At a time when every patch of dirt was being claimed by one group or another, the forest was left curiously untouched, as if it was able to gently distract anyone who thought to step beyond its boundary.
“Among those who retain some knowledge of the little girl's story, there has been much debate regarding her fate. Some assume that the magic held, and that she has ever since remained a little girl playing in her own private fairytale. Others, however, point to the darkness of the forest and say that something must have gone wrong at its heart, that perhaps the spell became twisted over time. They argue that a little girl couldn't possibly stay alone for all that time, that she must have changed. Some even claim that her mind can be heard reaching out beyond the forest's boundary, trying to tempt people to join her so that she can claim them forever. It's certainly true that no-one seems to ever go into the forest these days. A few might loiter at the edge, looking into the darkness, but everyone knows that it's dangerous to set foot in that place. Or at least that's the version of the story that persists to this day.
“As you might have guessed by now, the truth is a little more complicated...”
V
“As you might have guessed by now,” Shannon adds finally, “the truth is a little more complicated and strange. The forest isn't a scary place. It's beautiful here, there's no death to make it ugly.”
“But that was just a fairytale,” I point out, even though I feel a little creeped out by everything she told me. “It can't be true. I mean, magic and random old women... What's next? Unicorns flying around and pots of gold at the end of rainbows?” I wait for her to reply, but she seems so calm. “I mean,” I continue, “stuff like that, it's not real. None of it is.”
She smiles. “You're so quick to judge.”
“So have you seen a scary little girl out here?” I ask.
“Only you,” she replies with a grin.
“You know what I mean.” Turning, I glance across the clearing for a moment before realizing that it's foolish to even entertain the possibility. When I look back at Shannon, however, I can't help noticing that she's staring at me intently, almost as if she's studying my reaction to the story she just told. “Okay,” I continue cautiously, “that was a fun little fairytale, but I don't get what it has to do with anything in the real world. It still doesn't explain why you're here, or why you've stayed for so long.”
“Doesn't it?” she asks.
“You're being weird.”
“And you're rushing to try to understand something that's very complex,” she replies. “I told you the story because I wanted you to understand a little of the background here. I wanted you to consider the possibility of a fairytale gone wrong.”
I frown. “Meaning?”
“Meaning what if all that stuff about the little girl was true? What if, over the years, she was left alone and she started to change?”
“But you said she couldn't grow up.”
“Exactly.”
“So what does a child become if she doesn't become an adult?” I ask. “Is that the question?”
“You're very perceptive.”
“Not really,” I reply, getting to my feet. “There's this old woman who's parked by the side of the road, not far from here. She was going on about the same kind of stuff. You should probably meet her, it sounds like you're both into the same things right now.” I reach my hand out to her. “Come on. Let's go home.”
She shakes her head.
“Why not?” I ask.
“I'm not leaving the forest,” she says calmly, as if it's the most natural and normal thing in the world. “Why would I? This place is paradise. I don't need anything from the outside world. Well, very little, anyway.”
“Yeah,” I reply, “but it's still just a forest. It's not exactly exciting.”
“Are you scared?”
“Of what?”
“Of being out here.” She stares at me again, and I swear to God there seems to be a different tone about how right now. “This is what you wanted, isn't it?”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“The thing you wanted more than anything else in the whole world... You wanted to get me back.”
“Totally, but -”
“And here I am.”
I sigh. “Sure, but now we have to get going. We can't spend the rest of our lives sitting out here in the forest.”
“Why not?”
“Think about it!” I continue, starting to feel a little frustrated. “Mom's gonna be so shocked when she sees you, maybe she'll even quit drinking! And we don't have to stick around the trailer park anymore, we can move on. We can both get jobs and rent an apartment somewhere away from here, maybe in the city -”
She starts laughing.
“And we can have actual lives,” I point out, “like real people, like adults, instead of sitting around in that dumb little trailer. I mean, doesn't that sound good?”
She's still laughing.
“What?” I ask finally. “What's so funny about us getting out of this place?” I wait for her to admit that she's joking, but after a moment I realize that she's deadly serious. “Are you okay?” I ask, taking a step closer. “I mean, did something happen to you? The Shannon I know would never just come out into the middle of nowhere and decide to be a hippie. The Shannon I know would be ready to get out there and take on the world instead of... hiding, like a...”
“If I went with you,” she replies, “wouldn't I just be hiding from this place?”
“Are you high on something?” I ask. “Have you been, like, licking mushrooms?”
“Come and sit with me for a moment,” she continues, patting the ground next to her. “Please, Rita.”
As I take a seat closer to her, I can't help feeling that something isn't right. Shannon puts an arm around me
and pulls me closer, almost as if she's trying to recreate the way she used to treat me when we were much younger. She pulls me close, forcing me to settle with my head in her lap, and after a moment she starts gently stroking the side of my head. I'm still overwhelmed to have her back, but I don't understand why she's so calm and so keen for us to stay here in the forest. I think maybe there's something she still hasn't told me.
“Do you remember when we used to play?” she asks. “We had those dolls, and we'd give them personalities and back stories and names?”
“Sure, but -”
“That was fun, wasn't it?”
“Sure,” I reply, “but we were just kids.” I try to sit up, but she gently holds me down. “I want to get out of that trailer park,” I tell her. “I want to go and live in the city.”
“Aren't cities dirty?”
“There are opportunities there,” I point out. Again I try to get up, but she's holding me down too firmly. “We can actually get out lives started,” I continue. “I want to work for a few years and save money, and then I want to go to college.”
“Maybe one day.”
“No, I'm tired of waiting, I -”
Suddenly I feel something change in my chest. As Shannon starts stroking my hair, I realize that all my plans about moving to the city have drained away, and the idea of staying here in the forest doesn't seem quite so bad. I know something's wrong, I know I should start to panic, but I feel absolutely at peace just sitting here with my head resting in Shannon's lap.
“I want to be...” I stammer, but my voice trails off. “I want to go to...”
And then silence.
We sit together, and Shannon continues to stroke my hair while I listen to the beautiful, peaceful calm of the forest. After a few minutes, I no longer feel the need to ask her about the city, or about getting out of here. It's enough to just sit here like this, enjoying our reunion and hoping that it never, ever has to end.
Part Nine
BRIAN
I
“Damn it,” I mutter, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel as I drive toward the forest. “Just stay calm, you goddamn idiot, and don't panic.”
It's barely light out here and I'm already starting to feel as if my guts are ready to burst up through my throat. I didn't manage to sleep at all last night; instead, I lay awake the whole time, trying to work out how I can deal with that thing that lives out there. I know I made a deal with her all those years ago, but deals aren't supposed to live forever and I've more than given her what she wants in return, so I figure it's about time for her to offer me a way out. I just need to think of something I can use to tempt her, something she can't possibly refuse.
Spotting some kind of beaten-up old trailer parked by the side of the road, I keep going until – after a few more seconds – I suddenly realize what I saw on one of the signs outside its door.
Slamming my foot on the brakes, I bring the car to a stop and then slowly reverse until I'm parked opposite the trailer. Reading the sign again, I can't help wondering how I never spotted this place before:
Miss Enola – Psychic and Fortune Teller.
The trailer looks like something that burst out of the sixties, with tie-dyed crap everywhere and paintings of rainbows and butterflies all over the side. I swear to God, I actually feel my soul shudder slightly at the thought of going anywhere near this damn thing, but at the same time I can't shake a sense of curiosity, especially in light of the strange visions I've been experiencing lately. It's as if the world is subtly trying to deliver a message that so far I'm only half understanding.
Even though I know I'll probably regret this, I reach down and unfasten my safety belt.
***
“Now I want to make it very clear from the start,” the mad old bitch says as she leads me inside, “that my fees are non-negotiable and I simply cannot -”
“Is this enough?” I ask, tossing a crumpled pile of notes onto the table. As soon as I see the look of shock in her eyes, I can tell that it's probably more money than she's seen in her life. She's clearly trash, even poorer and less educated that the human garbage that lives in the trailer park nearby. Honestly, these people should just be taken away from society and politely put out of their misery. There's no point to their lives.
“I think we can come to an arrangement,” she says with a smile, gathering the notes into her spindly hands. “Please, take a seat.”
The trailer stinks of hemp and God-knows-what-else, and I can't deny that the whole sixties vibe is giving me serious flashbacks to my own childhood, back when I was at the mercy of a mother who believed in free love and all that garbage. As I sit on a rickety fold-up camping chair, I'm already starting to think that this was a huge mistake, but my mind has been racing over the past few days and I figure I might as well try every possible approach. I think maybe I'm also delaying the moment when I go home. Lately, Alison hasn't quite seemed herself.
“Now,” this Enola woman says with a smile, “how can -”
“Tell me my future,” I reply, interrupting her. “Don't leave anything out, don't sugarcoat anything, not even if it's bad. Just get on with it and tell me.”
“You expect it to be bad?”
“I expect...” Pausing, I realize that I need to be careful with what I tell her. “Just let me know what you see. You're supposed to be a psychic, aren't you?”
“Give me your hands.”
“I'd rather not.”
“Give me your hands.”
Sighing, I hold them out for her to take. I want to get up and walk out of here, but I manage to stay in the seat as the old hag closes her eyes and starts muttering to herself. This whole thing is ridiculously theatrical, and I honestly don't know how she can expect anyone to take it seriously. At the same time, I've seen just enough of the world to know that there are things we don't understand, and besides, I'm not really here to get her 'startling revelations' (as the poster puts it) about my next move. What I'm really here for is a test, so I can determine whether I'm right about those visions. I need to know if there's anything to them.
“I see uncertainty,” she says finally, with her eyes still closed. “I see... different paths. Your future is not set. No-one's is, of course, but yours in particular...” She pauses for a moment, as if she's troubled by something. “I've never seen one man's future offer so many distinct possibilities,” she continues. “You have great potential for...”
Her voice trails off, and then suddenly she opens her eyes and pulls her hands away.
“Great potential for what?” I ask, shifting uncomfortably on the camping chair.
“For good,” she replies, clearly startled. “I see the possibility that you could do something truly good for the world, or at least for the people around you.”
“Fine,” I mutter, “but you said you saw different paths.”
“You must focus on the positive.”
“Just give it to me straight,” I reply. “You see potential for something bad, don't you?”
“I see...” Another pause, and it's obvious that she's trying to let me off easy. “I see the possibility that you could be led astray.”
“What else?”
“I'm not sure whether -”
“Give me specifics,” I continue, struggling to stay calm. “Come on, none of this airy bullshit, give me specific examples. What about...” I pause, figuring that I need to push her a little. “I'm in the forest,” I tell her. “I'm out there, in a clearing, and I've got someone with me.”
“Who?” she asks with a hint of fear in her eyes.
“It's your job to tell me,” I reply, “but let's just say that I'm out there and there's a little shack nearby. Nothing fancy, just some wooden boards held together to make a shelter. I'm out there, it's the middle of the day.” I hold my hands out for her again. “What do I do next?”
“I don't -”
“Just try,” I say firmly. “Or do you want to give me my money back?”
She pau
ses again, before reaching out and taking hold of my hands. I can tell she's reluctant to continue, but she closes her eyes and waits, as if she's trying to see.
“You're in the forest,” she says finally, “and you're walking with someone, and you're going to a small shack. Now you're unlocking the door and you're leading the woman inside. There's a hatch on the floor and -”
She stops, and after a moment she opens her eyes.
“Go on,” I tell her.
“Please...”
“Go on!”
She closes her eyes again. “The woman is nervous. She seems familiar, but... You're making smalltalk, trying to distract her, but you're thinking about the hatch. You're also concerned about someone else, someone waiting outside, someone...” Her voice trails off again. “There's a deal. You've made a deal, or you want to make a deal, or... You want to change a deal. You want to end an arrangement, but you don't want to give back what you gained, so you're trying to offer something else instead.”
“Maybe,” I mutter, surprised by the fact that she seems to be pretty damn close. “What happens next?”
“You're opening the hatch,” she whispers. “You're nervous, but you know you have no choice. You're opening it and...”
I wait for her to continue.
“And what?” I ask.
Her lips tremble, but she can't quite get the next words out.
“Come on,” I hiss, “is it really that hard to just say what you see?”
She pauses, and then slowly her eyes start to open.
“Rita,” she whispers.
“What?”
“Rita.” She stares at me, and I can see the concern in her soul. “Rita. What's she doing there? Why have you taken her to that awful place?”
“That's what I want to know,” I say firmly. She tries to pull her hands away, but I hold them tight. “Keep going. Tell me what happens next.”