by Rey S Morfin
I kept a careful eye on my surroundings as I crept into the woods, knowing that out here there were few places to hide. There were no churches in which I could seek refuge, no houses either (except the Witch’s, but Rey’s ramblings suggested that this was a place best steered clear of). Out in these woods, I had only the trees in which to hide from what lurks between them. I was, very much, on my own.
In an ideal world, I would never have set foot in these woods again after the previous day’s events. In fact, I would never set foot in this town, or maybe in this county again. But, of course, this was far from an ideal world; this was a world in which men could yield demonic powers, in which my friend had been prematurely taken from us, in which I was an accomplice in her father’s murder. An ideal world, I thought, consisted mostly of kittens and mint choc chip ice cream. Perhaps regular chocolate chip ice cream occasionally too (just to mix things up a bit).
I was, though; I was heading back into the woods, back to where we’d hidden Robert’s body, back to where Stephen was growing the Root. My mission was to collect as much of the Root as I could carry in the pockets of my jacket (admittedly, as is often the case with women’s fashion, the pocket space was very limited).
As far as I was concerned, retrieving the Root had two key benefits: (a) it meant that Stephen had access to less of the substance, and, hopefully, this would limit his powers, and (b) Rey could use it to take the fight back to Stephen. We would “fight fire with fire”, as I had said to Art. I could only hope that Stephen wouldn’t guess my plan. Fortunately, we had initially fled North, which might have indicated to him that we had planned to head elsewhere.
‘Where are you?’ I texted Rey. I never previously thought that I would use this number. There was no immediate reply. However, with phone service being as spotty as it was around here, I hadn’t expected one straight away. I continued onwards, carefully looking for the location where we’d previously diverged from the path. In the daylight, everything looked so different, and the further I walked, the more paranoid I became that I had already missed the turning.
Eventually, having almost convinced myself that I had gone too far, I came across the turning. At first I wasn’t sure, but on careful inspection I could see snapped branches, freshly-trodden tracks in the dirt. This was it, surely.
As I pushed through the undergrowth (this task not being as difficult as it had been last night), I reflected that these tracks were going to be an issue if anyone ever did find Robert’s body. I hoped that these tracks might at least point to Stephen, as the owner of the land. If Rey and I were unable to put a stop to him, it might at least lead someone else to him.
Finally I arrived at that new barbed wire fence, the gate still ajar. I hoped this meant that nobody had since returned to the farm, and not that someone was there at this very moment. Perhaps Stephen was here, gearing up to finish the job.
I crouched down, approaching slowly, peering through the bushes. I remained still for a few moments, listening out keenly for any movement. Confident that there was none, I straightened out and approached the clearing.
My initial instinct was to look around for shears, but, with none being immediately obvious, I resorted to tearing the plants from the ground myself. I could feel the rough dirt getting under my fingernails, and I began to regret not looking any more thoroughly for useful tools. With my pockets being limited in size, I ripped the roots free of the rest of the plant, tossing the waste aside.
I was confident that I had as much of the Root as I could possibly carry when I’d pulled up around a tenth of the crop. I was unhappy about leaving so much left for Stephen, but resolved, when we were finished, to return and destroy the rest. Perhaps I would bring Rebecca up with me, show her the plant, explain the truth about how her son had been corrupted. There would be time for this later.
I left the clearing, pockets full of Root, and headed back to town. Rey eventually responded to my earlier text, saying simply, ‘Anna?’ Of course he hadn’t saved my number when I’d given it to him through clenched teeth a couple of years ago. After a short back and forth, I had an address in Highford at which to meet him. The context for this had not yet been shared with me, but I assumed that it would reveal itself when I got there.
When I got back to the edge of the woods, out by the churchyard, I took the main road north, and began my walk to Highford, the famous “next town over”. As ever, the walk, while not quite “around the corner”, was not strictly long enough to require a bus journey. I seemed to remember insisting this to Laura plenty growing up.
In the age of the smartphone, I didn’t need precise directions from Rey, only the address - a quick internet search did the rest. The address took me to a small semi-detached house towards the centre of Highford, just off the main road. As I rapped on the door, I called out.
‘Rey? Are you in there? Rey?’
I could hear movement inside. More than one person. I wondered if Stephen had somehow caught up with him.
When the door opened, my fears were (somewhat) relieved. Instead of Stephen standing by Rey’s side, there was Sarah. I looked incredulously at Rey. Sarah didn’t need to be in the middle of this. She was way too young to deal with these current circumstances, and definitely too young for what I’d planned to do next.
‘Sarah?’
‘Hi Anna…,’ she replied, less jubilant than normal.
I stepped to the side to allow Sarah to pass, and then grabbed Rey’s ear. ‘What is Sarah doing here? Why have you brought her into this?’
‘I didn’t mean to. I was running, and then she was there, and she could drive. I didn’t mean to,’ he replied.
‘Did anything happen to her? Did she see anything?’
Rey shook his head. ‘No. She didn’t see anything. She knows something’s up, though.’
I sighed. ‘Ok. The damage is done, I guess. Let’s just get her home now in one piece.’
Rey gulped. ‘Do you think that’s the safest place for her to be right now? Redbury? With Stephen there, on the warpath?’
‘He’s not after her, he’s after us. You, mainly. I don’t think he’d bother with her, as long as he doesn’t know she’s involved. Besides…’ I trailed off, going quiet. I waved Rey in, before whispering in his ear. ‘If everything goes to plan, she won’t have to worry.’
I opened my pocket to Rey, showing him what was inside.
Rey looked shocked, backed away.
‘And what are you expecting me to do with that?’ he asked, eyes wide with fear.
‘Do you need me to spell it out to you? You’re going to use it, Rey. We’re going to bring the fight to him.’
‘Anna… I think I’ve had enough of that stuff, don’t you? It’s only made things much worse.’
‘No, Rey. It hasn’t made things worse, it’s just showed you the truth. It showed you Laura, it showed you what Stephen did to her. Stephen is the one that made things worse.’
Rey still didn’t look sure. I couldn’t blame him; I wasn’t that sure myself.
‘Look, I’m not saying it’s a good thing, this Root. I’m not saying we shouldn’t burn it all once this is done. But right now, we need you strong. I’ve seen what you can do, what you can become. We need that right now, if we’re going to stop Stephen.’
Rey nodded, limbered up. ‘And when you say “stop” him… you mean…’
I knew what I was asking of Rey, but I asked it anyway. ‘Yes, I do. I can’t see that there’s any other choice, can you?’
Rey thought for a moment, then shook his head. ‘No. I guess not.’
We looked over to Sarah, who was leaning against the car in the fading light. She waved at us.
‘Give me it, then,’ Rey instructed me. ‘And make sure she doesn’t look. I don’t want her to see this.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’
Rey took the Root from me, and walked over to Sarah.
‘Mind if I get the keys from you?’
Sarah looked quizzically
at him. ‘But you don’t drive…’
‘Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,’ he responded.
Sarah gave him the keys and sent her over to me.
‘What’s he doing in there?’ she asked.
‘Honestly, Sarah, even if I wanted to tell you, I wouldn’t know where to begin. Could you do me one favour, Sarah, and look away from the car for this next part. I’m not going to try and trick you, send you off on some pointless task, I’m going to trust you, treat you like an adult… can you look away from the car?’
Sarah, sensing the fear and desperation in my voice, put on a solemn face, and nodded.
In the car, Rey pulled out the Root, cupping it in his two open hands. I watched through the car window as his eyes began to glow, and a small fire ignited the edges of the Root. He was in more control now than last time I’d seen him in this state; any powers that he presented this time were considered, managed. As the Root burned, a thick smoke filled the car, obscuring Rey until I could see him no more.
19
The Shadows of the Trees
I clutched my mattress as I woke up in a sweat and tried to ground myself once again in reality. To my side, Laura was snuggled up in one of my old t-shirts - being such a heavy sleeper, she didn’t even wake when I jolting uprighted as I came to from my disturbed dreams.
I shook her shoulder gently.
‘Rey?’ Laura stirred, confused, ‘What is it, Rey?’
‘Shouldn’t you be with your mum?’ I asked.
Laura sighed. ‘Rey, you’re talking in your sleep again.’
‘No, I’m awake.’
‘What are you on about?’ she asked, exasperated.
‘You should be back in Redbury, shouldn’t you be burying Max?’
Laura’s eyes widened, ‘What’s happened to Max? He’s hurt?’
‘Yeah… I thought… I thought your mum rang you?’
Laura took a breath, ‘No, Rey, I think you’ve dreamt this.’ She turned away, pulling the covers up to her face, and drifted back to sleep.
I laid in bed staring up at the shadows that danced across the bedroom ceiling. They were cast by the streetlight outside hitting the bare trees that swayed in the cold October winds. I needed to get around to writing to the council about that streetlight tomorrow; it was too close to our bedroom. It might not achieve anything, but… don’t ask, don’t get. This was a rule I often pushed myself to follow.
I looked for patterns in the shadows, but saw none. The universe wasn’t speaking to me tonight. Not that it ever really did - any shapes I made out were just coincidence, they weren’t a sign. It was just a game.
I glanced at my clock - 5.30am. More than late enough to get up and start preparing for the day ahead - although Laura, if I accidentally woke her up, would very aggressively argue the opposite. I had to be quiet.
I began, as always, with my morning exercises. Theoretically I was supposed to do 20 each of push-ups, sit-ups, mountain climbers, and bicycle crunches, plus more if I had the time and energy. I’d done the same routine for several years, based on an article I read in a men’s magazine that promised six pack abs in 30 days. I never got the abs, but maybe that was down to my diet rather than the routine. Usually I would easily succeed at finishing my routine, however today my body felt weak, exhausted. One day off wouldn’t kill me, Laura always said.
I popped into the shower, Laura groaning at the noise of the squeaking pipes. I knew she wouldn’t fully wake up, though. I washed my hair, armpits and crotch, and then, after realising that I had an important meeting today, I expanded the washing area to include my limbs. Arms and legs scrubbed thoroughly, I was squeaky-clean and feeling fresh.
I was hungrier than normal today. Out of the window went my two-slice routine, in favour of four slices… and then six, and then, eight - before I finally decided that this was getting out of hand. Maybe this was why those abs never materialised.
What had I been doing last night? I guess I’d done a lot of running around when I was up in Redbury, must have worked up an appetite. No. Not Redbury. Where did that come from? Just in the park. I hadn’t fully shaken my dreams yet this morning. I skipped the tea to at least partially make up for my overindulgence in carbohydrates.
I was early enough to walk to work today, but I opted for the bus anyway. My body wasn’t feeling the walk this morning. I waited for two minutes in the pouring rain, although this wait was due to the bus running late. I, on the other hand, was right on schedule.
Truth be told, I wasn’t feeling work either. Was this what I wanted to do with my life? Writing was all I’d even known, but this… this just hadn’t felt right for a long, long time. I’d known friends to go through their “Quarter Life Crises” but never thought it’d affect me. Today, however, out of nowhere, it did. I didn’t want to do this any more, regardless of the number of bean bags in the workplace or the table tennis table which nobody ever used. I needed a change.
But what would this change be? It was too late to become a doctor, an architect, anything that meant going back to school, really - not that I would want to anyway. It didn’t matter. I could figure this out later.
At 9am that morning, as soon as Sonja entered her office, I handed in my notice. Laura wasn’t impressed that I’d done such a thing without consulting her first, or without, seemingly, any planning - an accusation which was entirely true. When I explained how I was feeling - that I was anxious about the direction in which I found my life going - she began to understand. Graciously, she said that - if we were careful - we could survive a couple of months on just her salary, and that she’d give me this time to figure myself out. But, she said, after that - I really needed to find new employment, fast.
I’ll admit that I didn’t achieve much in the first two weeks, which consisted primarily of watching television and playing video games, much to Laura’s increasing - and completely understandable - frustration. Sensing that this wasn’t acceptable, I picked up an old hobby.
Woodworking wasn’t something that I’d thought about in years, being that I expended all my creative energy in my emotionally-draining office job. I was aware that this was a classic cliche: man leaves office job, starts doing something he loves, hopes to monetise it - but that was exactly how it went.
It wasn’t overnight, though. It took time for this to happen. In the first few months, I made six full-sized family tables, a couple of coffee tables, and, with the remaining material, a single bedside table. Of course, none of this sold at my initial - and arguably arrogant - prices. Not wanting to stretch Laura’s patience much further, I decided to give it one last “proper” go before giving up and returning to the office job. I had to take it more seriously than I had been.
I started reading and participating in forums, engaging with other people in my craft. I read up on digital advertising, getting my products in front of the right people. I watched YouTube videos, focussing on improving my quality of work. Through all of this, Laura was encouraging. She asked me questions about what I was working on, engaging me, humouring me, trying to support my excitement in my newfound work. I knew she cared about the craft - not because she had any real interest in woodwork, but because I did.
Eventually, I started to turn a profit. It was small at first, but grew quickly. Before long I had more orders than I could fulfil, and the quality of work increased - so I could increase my prices. I invested in a website, and, over a year after I started, I started paying an accountant to handle the tax side of the business. Tax wasn’t my forte. Tax wasn’t anyone’s “thing”, really, or at least I’d never met someone who thought of it as such - I’d always assumed that these people were fictional.
A year in, Laura insisted we go out to a particularly fancy restaurant to celebrate. We were happier than we’d been in a good long while. We spoke about restarting the wedding planning, now that we had enough money. Laura broached the subject carefully, as if she wasn’t sure that this was what I still wanted. Of course, it was.
/> Laura asked Anna Tyndall to be her maid of honour. Anna and I had never really gotten along. With this in mind, Laura started to divide planning responsibilities between Anna and I, so we wouldn’t need to interact as much. I got the feeling that Anna was jealous that she didn’t get to spend as much time with Laura any more - that I was monopolizing her time. In complete fairness to the woman, she wasn’t wrong about this.
I asked an old friend from school to be my best man. We’d drifted apart over the past few years, and only really started seeing each other again more recently, now that I had not only more time on my hands, but could be more flexible with it.
During one of our nights out, I ran into Sonja at a bar. I barely recognised her at first, but she immediately recognised me. She was a lot more flirty now that we weren’t working together, hands on arm, playing with her hair, and then - when that didn’t seem to do the trick - she whispered into my ear, ‘Do you want to come home with me?’ I left the bar, but went home, to find Laura poring over floral colour palettes - all of which were various combinations of similar shades of purple.
As the day grew closer, deadlines became tighter and tighter. We had to make compromises. The band we’d wanted we hadn’t been able to secure, but the brother of a friend was keen for his band to fill in. We were resistant at first, Laura even suggesting it would be a bit “amateur hour”, but upon hearing their covers - and more importantly their price - we became convinced.
After months and months of surprisingly hard work and careful planning, the day came.
The sun shone brightly on our wedding day. Laura’s parents beamed with pride. Mine were also there. We were surrounded by family, friends, and a few other people we weren’t sure that we had invited, but could have easily just been plus ones that we hadn’t yet been introduced to. We hadn’t yet seen the movie Wedding Crashers, which would eventually shed some light on the matter.
Family and friends united, we danced, we drank, a few of us threw up in a bush outside and got a stern talking to by the venue’s staff.