the endless wood
The trees were becoming bare and skeletal fingers, outstretched, clawing at the grey afternoon sky, their fading green leaves dead or dying. Rain had recently fallen, water dripped from the limbs to fill fresh puddles that were scattered about the damp earth.
A series of wooden picnic tables were placed around just before the tree line. A young woman sat on the wet table-top of one. Grace wore a big black jacket, its hood off her head, resting instead around her neck. She brushed her unruly dark hair from in-front of her eyes, her hands slightly concealed by the cuffs of the coat.
Her sight was now clear and with deep brown eyes she looked out into the nearby trees; they were packed tight against one another, but with room enough to walk fairly easily beneath their copse. She saw the small fog that rested, curled just around the base of the trunks; these trees were the beginning of a spidery wood that stretched for more than a few miles, almost to the next county.
"I used to think that these woods were endless," Grace spoke softly, but her words cut crisply through the cold.
A few steps slightly behind her stood another youth, one who like her, was just cresting out from adolescence and into the adult unknown. John pulled his long coat around himself as he crossed his arms and gazed down to watch his booted foot trace a small arc along the wet ground.
"Me too," he replied.
The wind blew through in a constant shiver that made the trees tremble and sway and creak, breaking the silence of the horizon with its timbre. Grace continued to stare out through the woods. The sun attempted to break through the many branches and it tried to warm the cold ground with its few piercing rays. But the darkening sky quickly consumed that light and the chill, bitter wind battled on through the dying foliage.
"At one time, these woods would have filled this whole place," Grace said as she still stared into the grove, "Out for as far as we could see."
John looked up from the ground and he glanced across at the small asphalt road that ran just past their current spot and led back to the centre of town. He had visions of the trees reclaiming the town. He thought about the service station consumed by the tall trunks and vines and weeds; all cracking up through the concrete.
John saw in his minds eye the wood becoming a forest along the streets, stretching right down that alley behind Cranes Barber-shop and then darting unhindered, straight through his own backyard and then even further on, making the main square vanish beneath a shade of a hundred trees. Finally, he imagined the whole town abandoned by its people because the wood had returned.
Grace continued, "When this wood still stretched well past the school and the old fire station, something happened."
John shook his head and turned back to her, "What are you talking about?" he asked.
Grace shifted her weight, but her eyes didnt leave the trees, John moved a few paces forward and watched her as she went on.
"A few of the local families had gotten together, drinks and lunch in the afternoon, kids running around, that sort of thing. When all of a sudden a storm came along and rained the afternoon out," she turned and pointed out over the road behind, "They would have been in that direction, closer to those new houses on Austin lane."
John looked out to where she pointed, seeing past the empty and flat green field and the occasional rusted metal fencing that jutted-out at odd angles in the soil.
"They got back to town just as the storm broke with full force. Just in time for them to notice that a little girl was missing."
She was silent for a moment, her last few words hanging along with her breath and almost visible in the natural silence of their surrounds. John caught her eye, for a few seconds, but he broke off and scanned the close tree-line instead. The breeze made the wet leaves shake and rustle, a sound that travelled just behind the winds rhythm.
"Youre talking about that Mary Lanshell thing, right?"
Grace shook her head, "No, not that. John, just listen."
The young man fell silent and Grace waited a little before settling back into her story.
"So, there had been too much rush and too many people and no one had noticed. It happens. It was an accident. Anyway, the alarm was immediately raised. A search had to be mounted. About twenty of the available men and older boys were assembled and given lamps and sent out into the storm to look for her."
Grace stopped here and she tracked her line of sight off to the left, John saw her shift and he too looked off to the left.
"Although they searched for hours," Grace began again, "Some of the men came back sooner than the others; the would-be rescuers had gotten separated quickly in the rain and confusion of the now night-time woods. Basically, their actions ended up futile."
A gust of wind forced Grace to pause again, to pull her jacket about herself and it allowed John to move a few steps closer to hear her words better.
"They went home. Called the dangerous search off. Nobody wanted too, but they knew it was pointless. I dont think anyone slept well that night."
She sat further forward and ran a hand across her jeans, along her thigh, still looking out into the trees. John watched the muscles in her face tense in the cold. Grace licked her lips.
"I dont think I could handle being lost," she said softly.
Grace turned her head slightly and caught John staring at her.
"If I was, would you promise me something?"
John asked, "If you were lost, you mean?"
She nodded, "Yes. If that happened, would you promise to keep searching, to not ever stop looking for me?"
John glanced up at the trees, saw the wood and its labyrinth and said, "I promise."
Grace was still gazing straight at John, she watched him as he spoke; his Adams apple rose and fell, the skin on his neck moved in a tight flow, his jaw clenched when the words were said. His breath lingered about his head, a misted halo in the afternoon sunlight and he looked much older and he looked so certain.
Grace spoke firmly, "Promise me again."
He slowly swivelled his head back toward her, "I promise."
She now held his gaze, "And again."
John inhaled deeply and stepped closer toward Grace. After a moment he reached out his hand.
A moment later she took it.
Then he squeezed her cold palm gently and said, "I promise."
They looked at each other and lingered there a little while and then they both turned and stared out to the woods. John and Grace watched as trees of the wood shook in the wind, wrung their skeletal branches at the grey and black sky and the two of them heard the clouds rumble thunder in response.
Z
The trees were becoming bare and skeletal fingers, outstretched, clawing at the grey afternoon sky, their fading green leaves dead or dying. Rain had recently fallen, water dripped from the limbs to fill fresh puddles that were scattered about the damp earth.
A series of wooden picnic tables were placed around just before the tree line. A young woman sat on the wet table-top of one. Grace wore a big black jacket, its hood off her head, resting instead around her neck. She brushed her unruly dark hair from in-front of her eyes, her hands slightly concealed by the cuffs of the coat.
Her sight was now clear and with deep brown eyes she looked out into the nearby trees; they were packed tight against one another, but with room enough to walk fairly easily beneath their copse. She saw the small fog that rested, curled just around the base of the trunks; these trees were the beginning of a spidery wood that stretched for more than a few miles, almost to the next county.
"I used to think that these woods were endless," Grace spoke softly, but her words cut crisply through the cold.
A few steps slightly behind her stood another youth, one who like her, was just cresting out from adolescence and into the adult unknown. John pulled his long coat around himself as he crossed his arms and gazed down to watch his booted foot trace a small arc along the wet ground.
"Me too," he replied.
The wind blew through in a constant shiver that made the trees tremble and sway and creak, breaking the silence of the horizon with its timbre. Grace continued to stare out through the woods. The sun attempted to break through the many branches and it tried to warm the cold ground with its few piercing rays. But the darkening sky quickly consumed that light and the chill, bitter wind battled on through the dying foliage.
"At one time, these woods would have filled this whole place," Grace said as she still stared into the grove, "Out for as far as we could see."
John looked up from the ground and he glanced across at the small asphalt road that ran just past their current spot and led back to the centre of town. He had visions of the trees reclaiming the town. He thought about the service station consumed by the tall trunks and vines and weeds; all cracking up through the concrete.
John saw in his minds eye the wood becoming a forest along the streets, stretching right down that alley behind Cranes Barber-shop and then darting unhindered, straight through his own backyard and then even further on, making the main square vanish beneath a shade of a hundred trees. Finally, he imagined the whole town abandoned by its people because the wood had returned.
Grace continued, "When this wood still stretched well past the school and the old fire station, something happened."
John shook his head and turned back to her, "What are you talking about?" he asked.
Grace shifted her weight, but her eyes didnt leave the trees, John moved a few paces forward and watched her as she went on.
"A few of the local families had gotten together, drinks and lunch in the afternoon, kids running around, that sort of thing. When all of a sudden a storm came along and rained the afternoon out," she turned and pointed out over the road behind, "They would have been in that direction, closer to those new houses on Austin lane."
John looked out to where she pointed, seeing past the empty and flat green field and the occasional rusted metal fencing that jutted-out at odd angles in the soil.
"They got back to town just as the storm broke with full force. Just in time for them to notice that a little girl was missing."
She was silent for a moment, her last few words hanging along with her breath and almost visible in the natural silence of their surrounds. John caught her eye, for a few seconds, but he broke off and scanned the close tree-line instead. The breeze made the wet leaves shake and rustle, a sound that travelled just behind the winds rhythm.
"Youre talking about that Mary Lanshell thing, right?"
Grace shook her head, "No, not that. John, just listen."
The young man fell silent and Grace waited a little before settling back into her story.
"So, there had been too much rush and too many people and no one had noticed. It happens. It was an accident. Anyway, the alarm was immediately raised. A search had to be mounted. About twenty of the available men and older boys were assembled and given lamps and sent out into the storm to look for her."
Grace stopped here and she tracked her line of sight off to the left, John saw her shift and he too looked off to the left.
"Although they searched for hours," Grace began again, "Some of the men came back sooner than the others; the would-be rescuers had gotten separated quickly in the rain and confusion of the now night-time woods. Basically, their actions ended up futile."
A gust of wind forced Grace to pause again, to pull her jacket about herself and it allowed John to move a few steps closer to hear her words better.
"They went home. Called the dangerous search off. Nobody wanted too, but they knew it was pointless. I dont think anyone slept well that night."
She sat further forward and ran a hand across her jeans, along her thigh, still looking out into the trees. John watched the muscles in her face tense in the cold. Grace licked her lips.
"I dont think I could handle being lost," she said softly.
Grace turned her head slightly and caught John staring at her.
"If I was, would you promise me something?"
John asked, "If you were lost, you mean?"
She nodded, "Yes. If that happened, would you promise to keep searching, to not ever stop looking for me?"
John glanced up at the trees, saw the wood and its labyrinth and said, "I promise."
Grace was still gazing straight at John, she watched him as he spoke; his Adams apple rose and fell, the skin on his neck moved in a tight flow, his jaw clenched when the words were said. His breath lingered about his head, a misted halo in the afternoon sunlight and he looked much older and he looked so certain.
Grace spoke firmly, "Promise me again."
He slowly swivelled his head back toward her, "I promise."
She now held his gaze, "And again."
John inhaled deeply and stepped closer toward Grace. After a moment he reached out his hand.
A moment later she took it.
Then he squeezed her cold palm gently and said, "I promise."
They looked at each other and lingered there a little while and then they both turned and stared out to the woods. John and Grace watched as trees of the wood shook in the wind, wrung their skeletal branches at the grey and black sky and the two of them heard the clouds rumble thunder in response.
Z