by Sean Watman
Suddenly, I heard a twig snap and I was instantly alert. Could my shadowy pursuers have followed me into the forest? If so, then I could use the trees as cover, so long as I didn't hide behind any of the light colored trees that might give my dark clothing away. The darkness was my best friend, but also my worst enemy. Fearing my pursuers surrounding me, the only thing I could do was get behind the tree with a color as close to black as possible, and hide until they gave up searching. I eventually found the tree I needed, but did I take too long? I lay down on my belly, held my breath, and prayed that the footsteps would go away.
After what felt like an eternity, the footsteps receded. I slowly stood up and let out a sigh of relief, glad that I had made a right decision in laying low. Now that all the hunting was over, I decided that I wanted to get a really good look at this strange new place, so I grabbed the nearest branch and started to climb. I climbed higher and higher, thinking that this tree would never end, and when I finally reached the top what I saw blew me away.
I saw an emerald green sky, with light coming off a fiery red sun. The sunlight gave the trees a red tinge on their bark, eliminating the menacing look of the forest and replacing it with a more welcoming appearance. As I gazed at this scene I realized, that for the moment, I didn't want to go back home. If this was what I could wake up to everyday, then who needs the boring, noisy, crowded cities of Earth? Everything seemed so perfect, but then reality sunk in and another two questions I'd been avoiding crept up into my mind, What if the voice was right? Why was I sent here If I would die, back home?
What really took me by surprise was the fact that as soon as I left the meadow, it seemed like I really entered this world, instead of looking out at a world that was similar to my own. (By now, I've accepted the fact that I'm on another planet, because there is no chance of a green sky on Earth.) I decided to name that meadow The Foggy Meadow—very original. I don't know why I named it that. Maybe it's because that place may be my one ticket home if things get too dangerous. Plus, it marked my entrance to this world, and is really the only place I've been to, excluding the forest. I glanced back at the foggy meadow to find that even at the tree's height, the fog surrounded it like a wall; like it was trying to protect it from the outside world.
The ground suddenly started to shake, interrupting my thoughts. The trees shuddered from the rumble as if they were causing the earthquake. I quickly faced away from the meadow, and before I knew what was happening, I was falling. My arms were flailing, my mind was panicking, and I thought for sure I was going to die. I quickly regained control and had my arms reaching for the branches; receiving cuts as they collided with the sharp sticks. I didn't dare scream unless I wanted my shadowy friends to return. I winced as my arms collided with the main branches, but I forced back the tears that were welling up from the pain; I was not giving up that easily. I gritted my teeth, focused on the next branch, and reached. Luck was on my side because I caught that branch. I looked down to find that I was a few branches from hitting the ground, and let out a little relieved laugh; glad to have avoided a very painful death. After I had calmed down, I looked at my arms and I wished I hadn't.
My arms were so cut up from the hundreds of twigs and sticks they'd collided with; I thought I would never be able to use them again. My sweater sleeves were ripped to shreds. The trembling stopped momentarily, so I struggled to pull myself up. With my torn arms, it took nearly ten times the effort, and even then I had to restrain myself from crying out in pain. The shaking resumed and I struggled to hold on. When it ceased for the second time, I was finally able to pull myself up the tree and rest. It was a good thing that the quake had stopped, because if it had gone on a second longer, I definitely would be dead. What a wonderful place this was turning out to be. I think the phrase I would use to describe it would be, “Beautiful but deadly.” I used the remains from my sweater to bandage the main cuts, and already woozy from the blood loss; I fell asleep in the tree.
I awoke in my tree, realizing I was hungry. What food is safe in this world? I didn't spot food while I was running from the shadowy guys, or any on the tree when I was falling. It looked as if I had to go and scout for food, but first I had to get out of the tree. After thinking about it for a couple of minutes I decided to just jump off since I was close to the ground and didn't want to risk opening up the cuts on my arms. When I recovered from the fall, I stood up and stumbled away in search of food.
As I was stumbling on, I noticed the forest getting darker and darker with each step. I had no light source to help guide my way. I needed something that gave off light to help me find food. Then I got the idea of taking some of the yellow flowers and tying a strip of my sleeve around them. I now had a light that I could point, although I had no switch I continued walking; straining my arms to point at my surroundings for any sign of food. I was beginning to think I would die there, but that only drove me to search harder. I did not screw up my arms only to die by lack of food.
The darkness was closing in around me now, so I assumed that I was nearing the central part of the forest, and still no food. It was so dark that even the light the flowers gave off was consumed by the blackness. I tried to look around, searching for anything to help me, and as I looked up I saw the biggest thing known to man. People on Earth always use the phrase, “Don't look down,” but the truth is, Never look up.
Chapter 4: The Inner Grove
As I walked further into the dark, I heard shuffling sounds. I turned around, only to find that my path was now blocked by branches. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't move the branches without cutting my arms. It appeared as if the forest wanted me to go forward, so I listened to its advice. I had no idea how long I had been scouting for food, so I tried to find a space between the branches to tell if it was nighttime. When I glanced up into the canopy of the forest, I saw two eyes appear from the branches. They looked like ; they were just staring into the distance. Then another pair of eyes opened beside it—then another. I spun around, and as I turned, more and more eyes opened up, all with that blank stare. I stepped back, knowing that taking on these giants with the limited use of my arms was a very bad idea, and even with them, my chance was slim. As I stepped back, I noticed a light coming from my pocket. The flowers seemed to light up again, and when I pointed my light at the eyes, I saw why the forest was always so dark.
Moths. Giant black moths with very sharp teeth. Do moths even have teeth? And there were hundreds of them. The eyes were just the patterns on their wings, like butterflies. The comparison made me feel a little better, except for the fact that I was facing a giant army of moths on steroids. Maybe they were peaceful, I thought as my foot collided with something. I looked down and nearly threw up—it was a half-eaten arm. Any thoughts of befriending this mass of moths disappeared once I saw that. I screamed—I couldn't help it—who wouldn't? The moths then took notice of me with their real blood-red eyes. I tried to move, tried to run away, but I was paralyzed with fear.
As the moths continued to stare, one moved forward. It was about the size of Fred, and I was average height for a sixteen-year-old. We faced each other for a while, sizing up one another, when all of a sudden, the moth made a sniffing sound. It then raised its head and let out a deafening screech—so loud that I dropped the flowers and had to cover my ears, but it didn't weaken the noise. Another screech brought me back to my senses, and I bolted out of there, flower petals scattering off the forest floor. When I reached the branch blockade, I didn't care how much pain I suffered as long as I got through—fear does that to you. My arms were stinging and the cuts were bleeding when I finished tearing down all the branches, and before the last one hit the ground, I was back to running as fast as I could.
I didn't know or care where I was going; I needed to get out of there as fast as possible. I heard shuffling behind me, and I glanced behind to find the moths chasing me. I couldn't see their bodies, but the eyes on their wings gave them away as they slowly closed the gap between us. I turned my head
and tried to focus on running, but I noticed out of my peripheral vision that more moths were joining the swarm from the trees. It was like the whole forest was after me. I couldn't keep worrying about them, though. I had to keep going, had to get away from this damned place. The pain from my arms intensified, and I closed my eyes to try and distract myself from the pain, and then I tripped on a root and fell face first into a batch of red flowers.
It didn't make sense to me why the moth that I faced didn't just kill me when we first met, but when I looked at my bloody arms, I figured out why. The moths were like sharks in that when they catch a sniff of blood, they go into a frenzy. I was basically a piece of meat dangling in their faces. The moths had almost reached me, and I couldn't move. My arms wouldn't work. I closed my eyes and waited for the end, but when I opened my eyes, the moths seemed to retreat from me. I looked at my arms and noticed the red flowers’ pollen had got on my clothes. I pushed myself up and struggled to stand. When I was finally on my feet, I reached up and grabbed some red flowers. I now had a weapon—but would my arms allow me to finish them off before I blacked out from the pain?
I unzipped my sweater and whipped its remains at the moths. Most of them easily dodged the flying sweater, except for one moth whose leg I managed to hit. I watched the leg disintegrate as the pollen made contact with the leg. I knew that if I hadn't pissed them off by attempting escape, I sure had now. The moths went into a mindless rage. Hundreds of moths were screeching their annoying screech. They started to advance, rushing toward me relentlessly, teeth ready to gnaw my head off. I dodged, ducked, and weaved through the waves of moths, spraying as many as I could with the pollen. The main force managed to circle around me, while the onslaught of moths continued, so I now had to watch my front, sides, and back. The only thing I could do was keep dodging and spray the pollen.
The battle picked up pace, and I was beginning to think I had a chance. When the next moth came at me, I dodged, aimed the pollen, but none came out. I reached down to pick up some more flowers to replenish my ammo, and while my back was unprotected, the moths saw their chance. One after another, the moths swooped down and slashed at my back. My legs finally gave out, and I struggled to breathe, taking every last bit of air as though it might be my last. I was finished, but all of a sudden I heard a voice cry out, “Aquas, go! We can't lose him!” Then I heard the howling of a wolf. Oh great, I thought, now the wolves are going to join in and feast on my rotting carcass. Instead, the wolf approached me and faced the moths with a menacing gesture, as if to say it would protect me from them. This wolf was about four feet tall, and its fur was the color of the ocean. Standing beside it was a man wearing strange clothes. Once I had gotten a good look, exhaustion and pain had made my eyes see almost nothing but the black of the moths . I heard the voice of the man call out to the wolf in a language I couldn't understand. Next thing I knew, the wolf was gone. and the man was wielding a giant sword. I strained to keep my eyes open and continue watching what was happening. This sword had a flaming blue aura around it. I thought the guy was nuts. If I couldn't beat them with the flowers, how could he beat them with a sword?
It turns out he didn't need the flowers. The man took his sword, raised it, and shouted, “This is your one and only chance to escape. I will not pursue you if you leave now.” He said this in a kind and sincere tone, as if he had done it before. But then he said with a tinge of hatred in his voice, “But, if you choose to stay, I swear I will kill all of you.” This guy scared me; he sounded nice and honest, but then, death threats. But, hey, he saved my life. Who am I to judge him?
The moths didn't move at all. I assumed they either weren't listening or couldn't understand him. It didn't matter to me which one it was. The man stepped forward, raised his gigantic sword, and shouted a war cry. He then charged at the moths, and what happened next was all a great blur of slashes, screeches of pain from the moths, and blood flying. This was no fight; this was a freaking massacre. During this whole scene, I was on the ground, struggling to hang on to my consciousness as I watched a man slash the moths apart like they were sticks of butter.
This man was incredible. He moved amazingly fast and wielded his huge sword as though it only weighed a pound. Every time he slew a moth, it was like a part of the darkness that consumed the forest departed with the life of the insect. Finally, my eyes couldn't take the strain of staying open, and I drifted off.
Chapter 5: The Awakening
The next sequence of events occurred as I was dwindling between my subconscious and reality. I caught glimpses of the forest, but I was mostly stuck in the corners of my mind. During this time, I was sitting in front of a screen, watching memories of my life growing up along with the more recent ones, like my fight in the alley. All of it was played out like the movie of my life;. I always ended up in a fight, lost because I made some careless mistake, and got bailed out by someone else. This was true for every flashback except for one: my fight with the gang. When this replayed in my mind, it was from another person's perspective. My screen had a red tinge around it, and the quality was blurry, but I saw all the main parts: me getting the crap kicked out of me, Fred about to shoot me, and the cops showing up. Wait a minute, I thought. The cops never showed up. But they did, I was just out cold. I was glancing into someone else's memory, and I was watching from the sidelines.
I saw an ambulance come and two medics pick me up and put me onto a stretcher. I saw myself lying in a hospital bed, with no response from the heart monitor. A hand touched my forehead, and then the movie ended abruptly, like the film got jammed right before a climatic ending. The red tinge remained, and suddenly it became very hot. I noticed bright lights coming from behind, and I turned around to glance at … myself.
It was like facing a mirror. We stared at each other for a while, and then it spoke. Its voice was different than mine, yet similar.
“You are weak,” it said to me. “Though you continue to make reasons up, you do not fight for a real cause, do you?”
“Well, at least it's better than fighting without making up reasons,” I replied. The voice laughed as if amused by my remark. Then it said, “When you find a reason to fight, you will begin to understand. Until then, I cannot help you.” I stared at the reflection for a minute, totally confused by that statement. It made no sense whatsoever. Then it vanished.
“Hey!” I cried out. “Don't leave me to solve this stupid riddle! How can you help me? Who are you?”
My brain had tons of questions, and my reflection hadn't answered any of them—it only added more. Cursing under my breath, I sat down and heard a pop. As I searched around for the source of the noise, suddenly my eyes saw only a bright flame. I had to close my eyes or risk going blind.
When my eyes reopened, I was under a big tree. Orange light was passing through its branches. I glanced at my surroundings, only to see more trees illuminated by the light coming from the sun. There was no way that I could be in the forest, but as I looked at the floor, I noticed the rainbow flowers scattered everywhere.
“This forest used to be a peaceful place, birds and animals as far as the eye could see,” a voice called out, interrupting my thoughts. “But in the end, even the forest was corrupted by malice.” I searched for the speaker, whose voice sounded familiar, but I couldn't remember his face.
“Look up,” directed the voice. As I glanced upward, I saw that the voice came from the man who saved my bacon from the moth army; beside him slept his ocean blue wolf. I stared at him for a few moments, mostly because of the clothes he wore. His attire was a mixture of what seemed to be samurai armor, fur, and chain mail.
“Do I surprise you?” he asked me. I immediately looked away, embarrassed that I was staring at him.
“Well, I mean, I've never seen that outfit before,” I replied. He raised an eyebrow, then stated, “All warriors in Pyrus wear this uniform; it is tradition.” Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow. Well, at least one of my questions had been answered. I was in Pyrus, wherever that was
.
“So, Pyrus is …” I started.
“Pyrus is the country of flame, one of the twelve countries of Tereer, each with corresponding elements,” he interrupted. “Everyone knows this. What country do you come from?” I was now stuck. I couldn't answer him without giving away that I was not from Tereer, but I also couldn't let on that I was from Earth, or he'd think I was crazy. The only response I could give was, “I don't remember.” Yeah, I know, pathetic response, but given the circumstances, I thought he might believe my story. He gave me a questioning look but said no more. We sat in silence for a while, listening to the birds flying by.
“You were saying something about the forest earlier?” I asked.
“Correct,” he answered. “Life here is finally returning. Did you notice the birds?”
I assumed it was a rhetorical question and didn't respond.
“And this is all thanks to you,” he continued. “Without your help, I would have never defeated the moths.”
“Me?” I answered. “All I did was lie on the floor and get knocked unconscious.”
“But you gathered all the moths into one area,” he countered. “If one survives, then in less than a week, their numbers return. You fought valiantly, by the way, especially with your arms, which I have properly bandaged and cleaned to avoid infection.” He was right. Though they still hurt a lot, I noticed nicely layered bandages wrapped around each arm.