A STORYTELLING OF RAVENS

by R. H. Dixon

  ‘How come? Have you found a secret stash?’

  ‘No, but I can find out what size Pollyanna is. She must have some shoes. Maybe they’ll fit you.’

  As much as Callie wasn’t overly fond of the idea, she raised a thumb to him. Any shoes would be better than none. He flashed her a quick smile then he was gone and she was left alone in the red and white room. Never had she been more horribly aware of something. She dropped the bath sheet to the floor and shrugged into the blue checked shirt, needing to be back downstairs already. Needing to be outside. As she fastened the buttons as quickly as she could with fumbling fingers, something in her peripheral view caught her eye. A grotesque red swan on the canvas above the bed. But when she lifted her head to look at it more directly, she saw there was nothing more than the random splashes of paint that she’d seen the day before. Trusting her eyes but not the room, she looked down at the shirt’s buttons again and tried to see the canvas as she’d seen it with the swan. But there was nothing swanlike about any of it. A rash of gooseflesh spread up her bare legs with an icy chill. She had a deep, intrusive feeling that someone was watching. It took all her effort to move again, to snap out of her trancelike fear. She had a rummage in the piles of clothes and found a pair of black thermal leggings. They’d have to do. She pulled them on and looked out of the window at Whispering Woods.

  Do you have something to say? she challenged; willing, daring, wanting the trees to speak. To enter her head and impart their almost certainly baleful wisdom. Because if you do then say it to me now, you bunch of weather-bitten bastards!

  She yelped then because she heard a female voice. Not inside her head, but somewhere else in the cabin. Close by. Out on the landing. Or in the room next door. A woman. Maybe the same voice she’d heard the previous night, just before Thurston had arrived. This time she couldn’t make out any of the words. It was a hushed, insistent chatter as of someone in a hurry.

  Hoping to confront whoever it was, Callie ran from the room. The landing was empty except for its own gloom. Her stomach flipped. Had Smiler been lying to her all along? Did he have someone in his room? A key to the tower room? She burst through his door and found him sitting on the bed, dressed in different jeans and a t-shirt, facing the tower door.

  ‘Callie?’ He jumped to his feet, his expression too guilty. Or maybe he just looked alarmed.

  ‘Who’s here with you?’ she said, her fists pulsing. Blood roared in her ears.

  ‘No one.’

  ‘I heard someone.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Just now.’

  ‘But there’s no one here.’ Smiler looked about the room to emphasise his point.

  ‘I heard a woman,’ she insisted.

  ‘In here?’

  ‘In here.’

  ‘You can’t have.’

  ‘I did.’ She charged over to the tower door and rattled its handle. It was still locked.

  ‘Seriously, Cal.’

  ‘Don’t call me that.’

  ‘Callie.’

  She dropped to all fours and moved folds of an ancient valance sheet to peer beneath the bed. There was no one there. A colony of dust bunnies scattered. She sneezed and rubbed her nose. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘I don’t know who you mean.’

  Undeterred, Callie stormed over to the window. She shoved it open and leaned out, but there was no one there either. Just the ash tree and its ravens. Several sets of eyes watched her. The ravens were uncharacteristically quiet. Each of their beaks was long and thick, likely implements for breaking windows, she thought. And gouging out eyes. She clapped the window shut and turned to Smiler, who was busy wringing his hands together and trying, it seemed, not to look guilty. Which made her think he wasn’t.

  ‘Maybe you heard Pollyanna,’ he suggested. ‘These wooden buildings distort sound, make it travel.’

  ‘It wasn’t Pollyanna, it was a woman.’ And I’ve heard her before. Again Callie eyed the tower door.

  ‘You can’t honestly think someone’s up there?’ he said. ‘I’d have heard something too. But I didn’t. I heard nothing, Callie. Nothing.’

  ‘There was a woman,’ Callie insisted. ‘I heard a voice. In here.’

  Or am I simply losing my mind?

  Maybe it was the trees.

  Ha de fucking ha!

  ‘Really. You can’t have,’ Smiler said. There was an element of pity in his eyes now.

  ‘Right, I’m going,’ she said. Her rage had burnt out and her voice was depressingly flat. She felt depleted. Beaten. ‘I guess it doesn’t matter. Are you coming or not?’

  Downstairs Pollyanna had emerged from her room but was sulking by the window. She glanced up at Callie and Smiler as they came down the stairs. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘We’re going out to find help,’ Callie said, rolling up her shirt sleeves, which were much too long.

  ‘No, I meant what was all the shouting about?’

  ‘Nothing. Doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Well where are you going?’

  ‘Anywhere but here.’ Callie stood behind the couch, frowning as Thurston tried to sit up. The top half of the left side of his face was bruised and the rest of his skin kept a spectral greyness like the fog that was currently haunting Whispering Woods. The cabin, Callie thought, had infected him with its poison already and in a moment of warped clarity she had a crushing feeling they were all doomed: all four of them to live out the rest of their lives right here. Because deep down she somehow knew that when Smiler had said there was nowhere beyond the cabin and its woods he was telling the truth. There was no way out.

  Whispering Woods. Once it gets into your head it won’t let go.

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ Thurston said.

  ‘You’re total idiots,’ Pollyanna said. ‘But I think it’s a great idea, you both should definitely go.’

  Callie pushed against Thurston’s shoulder, forcing him to lie down again. ‘You’re in no fit state to go anywhere,’ she said. ‘Apart from hospital. You need to stay here and rest while me and Smiler go and find help.’

  ‘I don’t see why you have to go,’ Pollyanna said to Smiler.

  ‘Because Thurston’s not well,’ he said, gripping the back of the couch. ‘He’ll have to stay here. With you.’

  ‘Shit, man.’ Thurston groaned and rubbed his forehead agitatedly. He looked up at Callie and said, ‘If you’re set on leaving me here, can’t you at least take her with you? Tip her in the lake on the way back or something?’

  Despite herself, Callie couldn’t resist a small smile. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Well, if you aren’t prepared to put yourself out,’ he said with a wink, ‘promise you won’t leave me here with her indefinitely. I don’t think I could take it.’ He fidgeted, trying but failing to find a more comfortable position. ‘She might convince me I’m Captain Dean.’

  ‘It’s sergeant, you mong!’ Pollyanna said. Her eyes were as black as furnace backs and genuinely frightening.

  Even so, Callie laughed. ‘Okay, I promise.’ She held Thurston’s gaze for such an amount of time that it toed the line of a boundary she wasn’t comfortable about crossing. She looked away and coughed. Blood pumped behind her eyes, a burning intensity. She closed them and saw the hook of a swan’s head and neck. A white swan on blue. A fleeting image which disappeared and gave way to amber-red.

  ‘Why don’t all three of you go?’ Pollyanna said, her show of anger directed at Smiler in particular. ‘Get lost in the woods. Or fall off a cliff. I don’t want you here anymore. None of you!’

  ‘Aw don’t be like that,’ Smiler said, his eyebrows crumpling in genuine upset. ‘I won’t be long.’

  ‘Like I care.’

  ‘Course you do.’

  ‘Don’t.’

  ‘Do.’ Smiler went to her and hunkered down so he was at eye level. He took hold of her hands and squeezed. ‘I won’t be long. I’ll be back before you know it.’ He stuck out his t
ongue then, forcing a reluctant smile from her. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘How big are your feet, Poll?’

  ‘Why?’ She looked intrigued for the briefest of moments, then her face became a scowl again. ‘Screw you, Miles Golden! She’s not taking my shoes as well.’

  13

  ‘Woods or road?’ Smiler said. He and Callie were standing on the narrow access road to the rear of the cabin, both of them wearing shirts belonging to a man neither of them knew. A base layer of fog sat around the bottoms of the trees, not spilling out much onto the access road. It had thickened since Callie had looked out of the red and white room’s window. Earlier it had been a thin veil of steam-like whiteness, but now it was a dense greyness that would easily swallow legs and feet. At the front of the cabin, the lake had been framed by a vignette of mist and the mountains were no longer visible. Callie had a creeping feeling the world was shrinking, that more fog would roll in till nothing existed except the cabin. She had to get out before she was suffocated by Whispering Woods.

  ‘Hmmm. Woods or road.’ She scrunched her toes in Pollyanna’s red Converse, which were a size too large but not entirely uncomfortable, and looked right to where the access road stretched on for some quarter of a mile before bending out of view amidst Whispering Woods. ‘What difference does it make?’

  ‘About an hour.’

  ‘In favour of the woods?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘But if we go through the woods we lessen our chances of seeing anyone who might be passing by on the road, right?’

  Smiler looked almost amused. Almost. ‘I guarantee that won’t happen.’

  ‘All the same, I’d like to make sure it doesn’t.’ It was a half-arsed excuse, because really she believed him. She would do anything to avoid entering Whispering Woods. Even a three-hour detour if that’s what it would take to keep her from amongst those dreadful trees.

  ‘Hey, it’s up to you,’ Smiler said, looking more relieved than perhaps he’d intended. ‘You’re calling the shots, I’m just the guide.’

  ‘Road it is then.’

  They started walking and there was a chillness to the air that cut straight through the brushed cotton of Callie’s shirt. For a moment she considered going back inside to put on an extra layer, but decided against it; wary that the cabin might reel her further into its possession if she did. What if next time it wouldn’t let her back out? Cold or not, this was where she needed to be. Outside. Breathing fresh air. Hugging herself, she listened for any hint of traffic. There was none. All she could hear was the insistence of the ravens back at the cabin; their calls carrying on the light breeze that breathed through branches and brought the treetops to life.

  ‘Do you think it’ll rain again?’ Callie said after they’d been walking for a while. Part of her hoped it would to drown the fog, but another part of her hoped it wouldn’t because she wasn’t kitted out for it.

  Smiler looked up to the sky, which was already churning up lint-coloured clouds to stifle the sun. He sucked on his bottom lip. ‘Hard to tell, it changes so fast here.’

  Here.

  Callie contemplated the vagueness of the word with a deep, resonant sense of despair. ‘Wherever that may be.’

  Smiler acknowledged her pondering with a sad smile. He looked worse today, she thought. Thurston’s impromptu arrival seemed to have taken some personal toll on him. He seemed a little duller on the outside and deader on the inside. The natural light outside the cabin emphasised his vitamin-starved skin and socially-starved eyes. Callie worried for him. She worried for them all.

  They followed the dirt track for just under a mile before coming to a T-junction. A white homemade sign with black painted lettering pointed to the right. It read: The Lake. There was no sign, similar or otherwise, to indicate what was left but Smiler had already turned that way and was following a newer, wider, less potted road. ‘Come on,’ he said, signalling with his hand. ‘This is us.’

  ‘Won’t anyone be at the lake?’ Callie said, faltering. She could glimpse its black expanse from where she stood. ‘Like fishermen? Or maybe there’s a boathouse?’

  Smiler turned to face her but continued walking, backwards. ‘Might have been at one point,’ he said. ‘But the lake’s totally deserted. I doubt there’re any fish in it to be honest. I mean, they’d have to be GloFish or something.’

  Frowning, Callie jogged to catch him up. ‘So this way leads to the village?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Hmmm.’

  On either side, trees crowded them and Callie realised with dawning dread that the road to the village cut straight through the woods. The very thing she hadn’t wanted. She was still being forced to enter Whispering Woods, it was like some preordained trickery that was always going to happen no matter what. Her mouth became dry and she focused on the muddy road: the beaten track that wouldn’t accommodate cars with low suspensions and body kits. It wasn’t even a proper road.

  Where the hell am I?

  She thought about the Bentley. The driver must have driven this way. It was the only route in. But where was he now? In another part of the country? Long gone. Or hiding in the woods? Concealed by fog that was standing about like old, stagnant disco smoke.

  ‘Who’ll be missing you?’ Smiler said, breaking through her thoughts and causing a sting somewhere deep inside her chest.

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Callie breathed in hard. Her dry throat stung with the intake. ‘My agent Sam Dent-Worth, maybe. But when I fail to answer his calls for the umpteenth time he’ll probably think I’ve taken a last minute flyer. I’ve done that before, so he won’t be overly concerned. I’ve got a couple of close friends, but I don’t speak to them all that often. I’m always busy. We’re all too busy. So it might take a week or two for them to notice that something’s not right. Apart from that, though, there’s no one to miss me. Not really.’

  Smiler raised his eyebrows. ‘Whoa, that’s sad.’

  ‘Tragic,’ Callie said, without a scrap of irony. She was looking past him into the trees. A long strip of white polythene had caught her eye. It was snagged on a branch and for a moment looked like the dismembered neck and head of a swan. A random gust of wind took hold of it and it became no more than a torn bin liner, billowing and flapping. ‘I have a much older brother who lives in France. He leads a humble life on a sheep farm with his wife and two girls. He won’t notice I’m gone, not for a while.’

  ‘I’m guessing you don’t have a husband or boyfriend?’

  Callie shook her head and laughed. The laugh had a bitter edge to it. ‘Nope. Absolutely no one would be too put out if anything was to happen to me. If I was to die.’ She realised at once that this sounded self-pitying. But she wasn’t sorry. If she couldn’t indulge herself in a time such as this, she wasn’t sure when she could. Besides, it was true.

  ‘What about your fans?’

  ‘Oh I’ve no doubt my fans would mourn their loss on social media if I wind up being worm food in Whispering Woods,’ she said. ‘And that’s really sweet. But it’s a different kind of mourning, because none of them know the real Callie Crossley. They don’t see me on a day-to-day basis or know what my faults and bad habits are, the things that make me human. Mostly my fans fall in love with the characters I play on screen. The characters who in no way represent my self because they’re all larger than life optimists who spout witty comments as easily as breathing air. But I’m not like that. I’m serious a lot of the time and I have down days just like everyone else. First thing on a morning I’m absolutely bloody awful to be around and, as you know, I swear like a trooper. I comfort eat a lot. I drink alcohol almost every night. And sometimes I cry myself to sleep at night because it scares me that life is passing me by and I feel like it’s never lived up to my expectations. The expectations that movies helped create in my head when I was a kid. I know, I’m like a walking contradiction, right? A total mess. Most days I feel like I’ve lost my way though, you know?�
��

  ‘Oh I know,’ Smiler said, without having to pretend to.

  Callie rubbed angrily beneath her eyes with the shirt’s cuffs. She felt foolish. Annoyed with herself for opening up so much. ‘Sorry,’ she said, blinking back tears. She focussed on the dirt at her feet, trying to channel her self pity into the ground, because if she didn’t she’d break apart. ‘I didn’t mean to offload on you like that, I dunno where it all came from.’

  ‘Hey, don’t worry. I’m here anytime.’ Smiler smiled; it was a gesture which seemed to back the sincerity of his offer.

  ‘So what about you, Mr Popular?’ she said, needing to direct conversation away from herself. ‘I bet you have a lot more people giving a shit about you. In fact, I bet there’re girls all over the world wondering where you are.’

  Smiler looked across at her and she thought he had more colour. There was an element of quiet surprise about his face. Or perhaps it was nervous suspicion. Callie wondered what nerve she’d hit. ‘If I ever get out of here I’m way past those days,’ he said. ‘Being here has changed something fundamental inside of me. I could live the humble life now, no word of a lie. A farm, a wife, two kids and a whole load of sheep sounds perfect to me. Your brother has it all sussed. He’s the lucky one.’

  Callie considered this and found herself agreeing. ‘You know, I think you might be right.’ She kicked a stone with the toe of Pollyanna’s shoe and watched it bounce ahead some five metres. When she caught up with it, she booted it into the trees. It was eaten up by the fog and she thought it might as well never have existed because its absence had made no noticeable difference whatsoever. There were plenty more stones for passers-by to kick or ignore. But that was a stone, not a person. So what about Smiler? Why hadn’t there been anything on the news about the disappearance of the Golden Boy? And why was there a distinct lack of search parties scouring the country? ‘In all seriousness,’ she said, trying not to scrutinise too much in case she offended him with her suspicion, but needing to read his expression all the same. ‘Shouldn’t someone be missing you by now?’