Twisted Trees

I should have stayed at the tavern. Sure, it was a rickety dump with stale ale and even staler conversation, but it was relatively safe from the elements. This will be a life experience I told myself. Walking in a wintry landscape covered in fresh fallen snow, what else could be better inspiration. Inspiration my freezing ass.

The gentleness that were snowflakes falling from above drifted away, leaving hail that pelted my foolish self with bruising force. I was but a mile from the next village, but with darkness rapidly swallowing the landscape before me and no end of hail in sight, I aimed to take cover anywhere. Tall trees, surely as old as time, stretched upwards and were I not afraid of my face being beaten to a pulp by the sky, I would have marveled at their beauty. I took comfort in their relative safety instead, close to the nearest trunk. I nearly crushed my lute in my eagerness; and hearing the slight scrape of wood on wood made me jump, stumbling back into the road ever so slightly. Upon inspection though my precious darling was unharmed, though a bit sappy. Sighing, I retreated into the cover of the forest once more, though not against the sap covered tree. It was fortunate it was lute rather than my hair. Sappy hair is a pain to deal with.

While I wiped down my lute with a handkerchief, swearing at my rashness, I heard a faint whisper. I paused, listened for the sound, but all that came was the sound of hail beating upon the dirt road and the whistle of wind. I looked behind me for good measure, searching for the source of the sound. I assumed it was imagination gone wild once more, perhaps a whispering lyric of a piece, old or new, but never the less I scoured the tree line behind me.

The only point of true note was a single tree amongst the mix, much smaller than the rest and had the slightest touch of grey in it’s trunk. Needles covered the forest floor at its roots and it struck me as tragic. I have never been moved by the sight of a tree, but tears welled in my eyes regardless. Approaching it I slung my lute over my back and stepped round the needles carefully. And behind that tree was another one, slightly shorter, a bit greyer, and a tad thinner. Looking on there was another tree, again smaller, than another and another in a perfectly straight line. Were I not so moved, were tears not flowing freely, I would have ignored such a sight as a strange curiosity. But there I was, crying like a newborn and underneath it all, the urge to follow the sorrow overwhelmed me.

My steps were cautious and as I passed tree after tree, I felt as if something was pulling me further in. I don’t know how long I walked, nor how far truly, but the line never faltered. I barely noticed the snow, light flakes that had escaped the tree tops. The snow became heavier as the grey trees became shorter and shorter.

It ended with a single tree unlike the others. It was a twisted thing, only but waist high. It was gnarled and dark, oozing some unpleasant sap that spotted the snow at its roots. I vomited on the thing, suddenly and much to my shock. After a good amount of retching I stumbled away, turned myself away from the sight. The snow was coming quicker now and I turned my face to the sky, let the falling flakes leave burning kisses on my skin. My breathing slowed and I gathered the courage to face the tree again.

It was still covered in heated vomit, snow melting as it landed on the mess. I turned my sight to where I had come from, started towards that direction when I heard the whisper again. It was clear but the words were unknown to me.

Turning I spotted two trees in the distance, each a striking red against the snowy landscape. They twisted together into a sort of archway and the whisper grew louder the longer I stared.

“That wasn’t there before.” The words came slowly off my tongue, each word but a step closer to the arching trees. “What are you?” I asked them. Their reply was a rustle of leaves. The closer I approached the stronger the feeling of my heart’s strings being pulled. As I drew closer I found the trees to not be naturally red, but merely painted. “Carmine you fool of course they were painted.” Stepping under the archway a sudden pang hit my heart, and I gripped my shirt in an effort to soothe the burst of agony. It was as if a man had plunged his fist deep within my chest and squeezed my oh so precious heart.

And like a flash it was gone. I tried to turn back, truly I did, but the revolting sight of the twisted branches of the vomit covered tree waiting for me discouraged any retreat. So, I pressed forward.

“And why not?” I asked myself aloud, trouncing through the snow. No one answered, not even the whisper that had drawn me to this place. It was a long quiet walk, the only sound breaking the eerie serenity being the heavy steps I took in the ever-growing layer of snow.

Feet deep was no problem.

Knee deep caused concern.

Waist deep and by the gods was I terrified.

The further I went the worst my situation got, and it dawned on me that I may die here alone in the snow, forgotten. Worse than that, all this snow might damage my lute, warp the wood into a foul sounding beast. The horror.

I stood there panting, listening to my heartbeat, pounding in my chest. Was it my imagination that it was thumping slower? I wanted to rest, needed to rest. Just lay my head down in the snow, let its cold embrace cover me like a blanket. Then there was a voice. No longer a whisper but a proper voice, though the words still sounded foreign to me. It was screaming and covering my ears did nothing to block out the sound.

“I am going mad!” I shouted back, and, as if the voice cared, it quieted. “A little longer.” I whispered to myself. I trudged on, body crying out to rest. But each step a little voice reminded me that it was only a little longer. A little longer to what I did not know but it was a comfort.

I had not noticed the dimming of the sky but I’d be damned if I didn’t notice the plunging darkness swallowing me and the forest into the pitch-black void of a moonless night. Not even a star twinkled in the distant sky. Perhaps I was not even looking up. Perhaps I was drowning in a sea of snow, only treading close to the surface. My face burned from the cold. I swam on so to speak, though hope was but as dim as a dying ember. But it’s existence is what is important.

One more step. One more step. Just one more. I would have voiced this mantra had my teeth not been chattering like the drumming fingers of an impatient man. Gods why did I stray from the road? How did the saying go? Oh, woe is he who takes the path less traveled by? Damn right.

As I was wading through the snow, chest deep now, my fingers brushed against something. I paused, and reached out with the other hand. My fingers barely touched the item but it was there. I stepped closer, rested my palm against it. A tree. I tried to walk around it but the roots had been quite high it seems and my foot snagged. I fell face first into the dirt. Body aching, I jiggled my foot free from the root and crawled further from the tree, resting in the dirt. Dirt. I was in dirt. Not snow, not ice, not tree sap. Dirt. I nearly kissed it. I laughed instead, a short and labored wheeze. I stood, legs feeling strange without the resistance against each step and looked around. The world was still a pitch-black void. But there was no snow, for the time being anyway. If I were in a clearer state of mind I would have asked myself why there was no snow. But logic does not mix with panic, for the thought of death struck me again. I was weak, I could feel it to my core. I was going to die.

I slapped myself. Snap out of it man I would have shouted. You will survive your stupidity! That is quite harsh I would reprimand. Not nice at all I would agree. These thoughts swirled in the back of my mind, a dialogue to fill the silence of the void. I wandered now, tried my best not to trip over my own feet, called for help once or twice only to find it to be a soft wheeze.

And like a miracle there was light. A flicker of flame turning around an invisible corner. It jumped at the sight of me but I smiled tenderly to it.

“Help.” I managed, before collapsing. I was on top of grass now. I turned my head ever so slightly, smelled the scent of fresh grass and looked to find a beauty radiating in heavenly flame. For surely, I had died to see such a creature. An angel I’m sure, bringing me a message. Though there was no smile on those tender lips. They parted.

“Baka.” The word rang in my ears as the creature called out in a tongue I did not know. Words similar to the whisper sprang from the angel’s lips. I could not think more of it for the darkness had swallowed me.