The Dark Forest

Prompt: A Celebration  |  Genre: Magical realism/metaphor  |  Word count: 2500 words

I wake up with a splitting headache throbbing in time with the aches all over my body. I am trying to get up but my arms are shivering with pain and exhaustion. After a while I give up and slump back down on the forest floor.

I should be scared; this is after all the Dark Forest. All of us in the village have heard the stories about the beasts that call this place their home. One of them could be lurking around right now. But I can’t seem to make myself care. I’m too tired. Maybe I won’t need a deadly beast with big, sharp teeth to kill me. I might just bleed and starve myself to my death. Well, that’s also one way to go. Not a glorious or peaceful death, but then I don’t think anyone else is around to notice.

Somehow, that thought seems to comfort me and I begin to drift off.

When I wake up again, I feel a little more refreshed as if my body somehow fixed itself while I slept. That’s odd. I’d thought I was going to die but here I am, on my way to getting better. I’m not sure I’m happy about that. I’ve heard that you tend to get better right before things do downhill. It would have been better if I had died in my sleep. I don’t want to see myself dying, or worse, struggle to stay alive. It’s too much of an effort and right now, I don’t think I want to make that effort.

So I let myself drift off again hoping to never wake up.

But I wake up again. And again. And again.

Every time I wake up, I find myself in the same position; lying face down, dead leaves strewn all over, the trees above forming a canopy. Each time I realise that I am slowly becoming a part of the forest floor; leaves, dirt, worms and even some moss covering me like a shroud.

Yet, I lay still. It’s as if the fire of life has left me. I don’t even feel any remorse or grief over this loss. My weariness surpasses any other emotion I may have once felt.

I no longer remember how many days have gone by. The days feel like eternal dusks and the nights like the endless space robbed of its stars. The silence has also grown deeper. If I close my eyes and press my face to the ground, I think I can hear the earth hum and the vines move as they slowly creep on me. Or maybe I’m just going mad. Because these are not the only sounds I hear.

It started a few days ago. The voices, they sounded like bees buzzing in the distance. I had dismissed it as just one of the many sounds of the forest. But they just kept on growing louder.

I am able to hear them right now quite clearly. Maybe because they are screaming at each other. I try to lift my head just so I can hear what they are saying. A few leaves fall off me and I hear a couple of butterflies flutter away. I feel a twinge of regret at disturbing them but the voices beckon me. They have cast a spell on me. I try to move a little closer but the plants and the vines are holding me tight. I push and I push, but I don’t move an inch.

I start to breathe hard as sweat flows down my brow and my muscles ache. I want to move but it’s taking all I have, and I have so little.

So I give up and drift off again.

The ground shakes under me. But I hold my stance.

My sword feels slick under my hands. I wish I could bend down and pick some dirt. Strengthen my grip. But there’s no time. He’s almost here.

Wait. Why is he slowing down? Is he going to…

I jump and roll to the side. Just in time. I hear a loud roar and whoosh. A wave of heat washes over me. I look behind to see a fading wall of flame scorch the ground where I was standing just seconds ago.

My heart is pounding. My palms and my knees bruised. I feel the pulse of my blood pounding rhythmically with my wounds. But I ignore it. Instead, I notice that he is blinking and shaking his head. This is my chance. I get up and run, circling behind him. His giant tail is still. But I know that it won’t be for long.

I run and climb up his tail with ease. Surprising. I guess the scales on his body provide a good footing. He doesn’t yet sense me. I’m too small. Good.

I race up, my sword still in hand. When I reach his back, I take out my lasso. I tie it up one of the ridges. I brace myself to swing down to his heart but that’s when he moves. I lose my balance and fall. I’m still holding on to the lasso. So now I’m hanging by the rope, dangling as he moves this way and that.

Suddenly a bright flash of light hits him in the chest and throws him back. The lasso swings to the left and I land on his chest, right before he hits the ground. My girlfriends spring into action and throw around ropes to hold him down. I steady myself atop him and thrust my sword deep into his heart.

Scream.

That’s what I had thought he would do. Instead, he smiles. A golden glow emerges from him and surrounds him. Why is he glowing? Suddenly his dragon face morphs into that of a boy. A boy with eyes that are deep and gray like the ocean I had once seen.

This time, it’s my turn to be disoriented. I look around to get my bearings.

I’m in a room. He is standing right before me. His eyes are burning, and I feel the heat deep down. Without any warning, he lunges and grabs my arms. My saree pallu* slips off unable to bear this violence. His eyes dip down to my cleavage. My heart is pounding. I can feel tears brimming in my eyes. I plead. I cry. I scream. But his eyes don’t move. They ravage me and feed his hunger. He raises one hand to tear my blouse away. But instead he tears my flesh out. I scream in agony and anger.

He backs away, his eyes frantic. I didn’t want to hurt you, he says. I only wanted you, he says. I don’t hear him though, my own frenzied heartbeat too loud in my ears. I turn and run. I don’t know why, but I yearn to look back. So I do. His deep, gray eyes watch me run away from him. Watch me as they bleed.

I wake up with a start. My heart is still beating hard. I look around. The forest is still; nothing has changed. It was just a dream. But I realise that something has changed.

My head is a foot above the ground.

I’m on my hands, looking down; several vines twisted and broken, lying around me. I guess I must have broken them off when I woke up with such a violence. The heady rush was still coursing through my blood like molten lava. It makes me want to get up and free myself from my own prison.

So that’s what I do.

I am standing now… or at least trying to. My legs are wobbling so hard, I feel like a toddler again who is learning to walk for the first time. I smell of rot and the fresh smell of wet earth. That’s strange. How can I smell like death and life both at the same time?

I stumble towards a tree nearby. I hold it for support but even my arms are shivering, like they have forgotten what it means to have and to hold.

I walk around the tree, holding it all the while, and that’s when I see it. The thing that had sparkled before I had lost my consciousness all those years back. It’s a pond, its surface eerily still like a sheet of glass.

Years? Did I just say years?

I look behind to where I had been lying and I realise too late that it has been years since I first arrived. Now that I am standing, I have regained my sense of time. My stomach rolls up into a tight ball and sends a shockwave of pain to my solar plexus. I hunch over and my knees buckle, forcing me to slide down the bark and plop hard on the ground.

Why did I not wake up sooner? Why did I let myself waste away? What happened to Surya?

Surya!

My eyes snap open. I have to get back to him. But… is he still waiting?

I see something at the edge of my vision. I turn my head towards the disturbance and I see it—a hazy glow above the now rippling and shining pond. Curious, I clamber holding the tree and push myself toward the pond.

As I walk closer and closer to it, the voices grow louder. I realise now that the voices were coming from the pond all along. I totter towards it, curiosity and fear egging me on. When I reach the edge of the pond, I see images floating on it, the way they do when you recall your memories… but these images, they are undistorted.

I fall on my knees, my stomach plunging with me because I see him. And her.

They are fighting; she is clawing at him while he is trying hard to defend himself without hurting her. Without hurting me.

I sob and for once in my life, I don’t hold back. I sob out my pain, my anger, my frustration, my regret. I sob holding my stomach, trying to stop my heart from falling and hurting anymore. But it doesn’t stop hurting.

Through my cries, I hear her crying too. I open my eyes and see her in the pond, looking right at me. She is still dark, her eyes still yellow, her lips still crimson… and yet for some reason she looks like a lost child to me. I can feel her yearning for a hug, and I yearn to hug her tight. She turns her face away and watches out the window. Surya is walking away. He doesn’t look back.

But she knows and I do too that he has tried all that he could to hold on. We don’t feel angry at him; only a bone-deep sadness and loneliness.

Suddenly, the surface ripples again and her face morphs into his… the man with the deep gray eyes. He morphs into the boy and then the dragon. But their eyes… they remain the same. And they look at me with a fire that kindles something deep within me. I reach out to touch the dragon’s face but the water ripples as soon as I touch it and the image disappears.

It hits me with a sense of deep emptiness inside me. I had always felt this emptiness. But now it has a face.

I feel a hand on my shoulder. Startled, I turn back and fall. There’s a woman standing before me. She is clothed with the plants and flowers of the forest. I look closely and I see plants growing and climbing and blossoming all over her, filling the air with a sweet fragrance.

She smiles, “You like what you see?”

She turns around to let me see her fully. I gasp when I see her back. She is garbed with dead plants and wilted flowers, the odour of decay pervading through her.

She turns back to me, “I see you don’t like that side of me. But don’t you think that’s a little hypocritical?”

“Hypocritical? How can anyone like rot and decay?”

“Why not? You like life, don’t you? Where there’s life, there’s death. It’s just the law of the land.”

I stare at her, unable to find a retort. I look back at the pond. It lies still with no ripples to indicate it ever moved. But her image is printed in my eyes and I wonder if she is my other side.

“She is. I’m glad you are able to see that now.”

I turn back to the woman with a rage. I want to deny her words, deny that that monster has anything to do with me.

“That’s ok. You take your time. It’s not easy to face your demons. And not everyone can do it either.” She cocks her head, watching me, “I have a feeling you are not one of those people though.”

She gives me her hand and I take it. She pulls me up and leads me to a large tree nearby. I slump down with a sigh.

“You are tired. You need rest and food. Here take this,” she says, as one of her flowers blossoms into a fruit and she pulls it out.

“I have been resting”, I raise my eyebrows. Nevertheless, I take the fruit from her hand and my stomach growls in approval.

“Yes, you have. Do you know what they say about the Dark Forest? That anyone who enters never returns?”

I halt in the middle of biting the fruit.

Assured that she has got my attention, she continues, “Though technically, it is true—no one actually returns—some of them do manage to leave. But most of them don’t. You know why?”

I shake my head.

“Because they never wake up.”

I gulp down the fruit and stare at her.

“But you did, and that gives me hope. You might just be one of the few who find their way.”

I sit up straight, “Really?”

“Yes.” Before I can ask anything more, she chips in, “No, you can’t go back the way you came. Even if you try to, you’d end up coming back here. No, there’s only way you can walk out of here. But it won’t be easy. Neither can I guarantee you that you’d make it.”

My eyes grow wide, “Make it? You think if I go that way, I’ll die?”

“No, no… that’s not what I meant. What I mean is that you might die before you complete your journey.”

“Then why should I even bother?”

She smiles, like a mother smiling at a child’s innocent but crazy question, “Because it will set you free.”

I think about it. Think about her—my midnight twin—and I realise that’s what I want more than anything else in the world.

The woman laughs and several flowers shower down on me.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“It’s the universe celebrating.”

“Why?”

“Because it has found the sheep that was lost.”

 *saree = An Indian attire worn by women;  pallu = the loose end of the saree

Her

Prompt: Desperate Times  |  Genre: Magical Realism  |  Word count: 1260 words

Warning: Violence

She looks back at me. Bites her lip. Her neck muscles are taut. She looks strung, almost poised to bound back at the first sign of danger.

We stand like this. Staring at each other. Waiting.

After a while, I see her relax. Just a little. You can make that out, the way her shoulders slump, the wrinkles of her eyes ease out. She leans forward, searching my eyes.

Looking for her.

I don’t know what she saw, but she sighs. She looks relieved. She leans her hands against the sink. And then her head falls on her chest.

So does mine.

I switch the tap on. Let the cold water run through my hand, numb my nerves. I look at the pure, crystal liquid in my palms. I wish it was hard. Like a diamond. Something I could use to pierce through. Let the dark, muddy thing flow out. Out. Out of my system. Washed away.

The sink turns dark. So do my fingers. My palms. Hands. I look back at the mirror.

And I see her.

Dark. Darker than midnight. Like she has never seen the light. Ever.

Her eyes are yellow. Lips crimson, like the blood of a freshly killed lamb. And she is screaming. Her head thrown back, her lips peeled away, letting out a shrill keen that pierces through my heart. She cries. Tears of blood. Clutching her stomach. I see her. I want to hold her. Hold her tight. Make her stop. Stop crying. Stop that sound. I can’t take it. I’m on the floor, clutching my stomach. Crying. Screaming. Shrieking. Clawing my arms. But I don’t feel it. I don’t feel anything. Except her pain.

Her pain.

It surrounds me. Like a thick dark cloud. Closing tighter. And tighter. Wrapped around my neck, I try to pull it off. But the more I pull, the tighter it gets. I gag. Cough. I can’t think anymore.

I… can’t……. brea….

“Nila? What’s taking you so long?”

Surya.

The grip falls away. From the depths, she looks at me. Her wide tear-filled eyes narrow and turn sharp, angry. I feel the sting. I turn my eyes away in shame.

I move towards his voice... and away from her.

_-_

Leaves crumple under our feet, marking the heavy silence between us.

"What's wrong?"

I shrug; shake my head.

He nods and takes a deep breath, before looking ahead. I feel relieved but sad at the same time. It doesn't make sense, but then nothing seems to be making sense lately. I feel heavier but I plod on. 

In the distance, we can hear the sounds of the town. I turn to look at him. There's a slump to his shoulder, a tightness around his lips, a heaviness in his tread.

"We can always go back," I venture, careful not to sound too glad.

He stops and for a moment I imagine his shoulders straighten, as if a load is off it. But then he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, "We haven't met them in a while. And I did promise her we would go this time."

I sigh. I wonder why he makes an effort when he doesn't want to.

"They are old. Annoying, yes, but also old. It's our duty to meet them, even if it's only once in a while. At least we are not staying with them," he says, looking at me, as if I had something to do with that!

My hands tingle and my breath comes in hot. I look down; my fingertips are turning black. I feel numb all of a sudden, my hands ice-cold even as I break into a sweat. 

I gulp down, trying hard to contain myself. She can't come out; not now, not ever!

_-_

“So, when are you two planning to make us grandparents?”, his mother asks.

I busy myself twirling my soup. I hear Surya answer. He has said it to her a thousand times before. But it doesn’t satisfy. It never does.

I look up at the clock. And sigh.

She catches my gesture. Starts talking. But I don’t hear. Because I hear a small girl sing a lullaby. She is sitting in the dark. Holding her knees to herself. Rocking. Her voice, it wanes and waxes, with every move.

I remember that song. My mother used to sing it to me, when I was little.

When I mention “mother”, she looks at me. Scared. Angry. She springs up and runs away. I try to follow. But she is too fast. I see her turn around a dark corner and disappear. I follow.

I don’t see anything. It’s dark. Too dark. I walk closer. Peer.

That’s when I see them. Yellow eyes.

I scream and turn on my heels. I run. Like the wind.

But she is faster. She grabs my shoulder. I pull away but lose my balance and fall. She looms right above me. Brings her face close to mine. And then…

…Darkness…

“Oh you broke my best chinaware! Clumsy, as always!” I hear his mother say.

I look down. My palm is closed. I open it. There’s a pool of blood. I let it slide down my hand. Lick it. Hmmmm… yummy. I flex my hand. Admire my claws. Obsidian. Sharp. Beautiful.

“When will you learn?!”

I flex my neck. Aaaah, that feels nice. When was the last time I was out? Hmmmm… pretty long ago, I guess. I breathe in deeply. Aaaahhh, this air, feels fresh. Not stale, dark, like the place she keeps me locked in.

“I’m talking to you! Turn around and face me!”

I feel laughter bubble in my chest. The old hag wants to face me? I’m too happy to oblige!

“Arrrggggghhhhh!! Monster!”

She takes a vessel and swings at me. I block it away with my arm. But I feel a dull pain where it hit me. Tsk tsk. Now, why did she have to do this? I would have to teach her a lesson now.

Her neck, it feels too podgy under my hands. Will it hurt if I squeeze? What happens if…

“NILA! What are you doing?”

It’s Surya. His eyes, pure horror, reflects my form… dark, hideous, with yellow eyes.

I stumble back, hit the sink behind me. I look at my hands. They are bloody. But no longer black. She is back in her cage. But it’s too late.

I run. Push past Surya. Out the door. In the streets. Past people on the road. They are looking at me. They are all looking at me. I run. Through the hedges. The fields. I see a dark stretch in the distance. I head towards it. No one would see me there.

The dark stretch looms closer. I halt in my tracks. It’s the Dark Forest. No one goes in there. And if they do, they never come back.

I’m breathing hard. But I hear Surya in the distance. I turn around and see him running towards me. No, I can’t let him come close, I’m too dangerous.

I run straight into the forest. All around me are tall trees, rising and spreading, blocking out the light. I look ahead. The forest grows darker there.

I stagger towards the dark. I must have fallen. I don’t remember. My wounds are stinging. My feet are growing slick with my blood. But I keep moving.

That’s when I fall, face-down on the forest floor. In the distance, I see something sparkle. I find myself reaching out just as darkness envelops me.

The Bridge

Prompt: The Bridge  |  Genre: Magical Realism  |  Word count: 1200 words

There it is. The Bridge. Right in front of me. After all these years.

I look around. There are no guards, no posts. No blaring trumpets. I’d thought this moment would be special. Momentous. That the Bridge would be grand. Towering. Made of marble or something.

Instead here I am, standing before a regular stone bridge. Just like any other. I would’ve totally missed it if not for that old man’s… directions.

I feel my insides burning. I want to wring that hermit’s neck. I would’ve too if he only he didn’t live on top of that terrible mountain. There’s no way I’m gonna climb that again.

So I stand here. Before this ordinary looking Bridge. I wonder if it’s worth it. Maybe I should just turn back. Go home.

Home.

I feel the heaviness return. I take a slow, deep breath. I let it out, just as slowly.

It doesn’t help.

I look up at the Bridge. I have no choice except to move forward.

Instead, I find myself rooted to the spot. Staring ahead. The cobbled stone Bridge rises up in a slow curve. And then disappears. Into a thick cloud, light and dark, booming and crackling.

I feel my hands and feet grow cold. The shroud thickens. I can’t see but somehow I can feel, that it has started snowing.

That’s strange. How did a thunderstorm change like that?

“Not important.”

I jump out of my skin. Who was that? I whirl around to see a small girl standing before me.

“What’s important…”, she continues, as if frightening people out of their wits was the most normal thing in the world, “… is whether you intend to climb that Bridge.”

“Who are you?” I ask, in a tone that means ‘Who are you to ask me?’

She cocks her eyebrows and smirks, “Does it really matter?”

How rude of her! Hasn’t she learnt any manners?

“I don’t have manners because I asked you that question, or because I’m a kid?”

Lightening thunders behind me. Startled, I twist around. The cloud has turned blood red, spewing out loud sparks.

“My my! Someone’s really pissed off, aren’t they?”, the girl says, as she walks by and climbs the Bridge.

Is she mocking me?

“The world is a mirror. It shows you the image you hold in your heart.”

What does that even mean? I look at her. She is standing on the Bridge, a couple of paces ahead of me, looking straight at the cloud. I feel my cheeks burning. Here I am, a thirty year old woman, afraid to climb a stupid rock Bridge. And there she is, this tiny, frail little thing, facing a giant, red monster-cloud.

“Anger is terrifying only to the one who wields it”.

I shake my head in disbelief. Is she trying to sound like those wise old men and women in stories who spew out words that sound so full of meaning but no one can really understand?

She turns her head to look at me.

Her eyes! It’s as if she can see right through me. No, no! Don’t look! I stumble back, trying to get away from her.

She blinks. The spell breaks. My heart is racing. My forehead feels clammy. I gasp for air.

“You have changed”.

Does she know me? Surprised, I look at her. But then I realise I don’t want to see her eyes again. Too late.

I meet her eyes. And I see… disappointment? Somehow, it makes me feel small. Like a child. Like I failed her, in some way. Why would I feel that? I don’t even know her!

She sighs and looks back ahead. Does her shoulder look a little stooped? Or am I imagining things again?

“Go back. This journey is not for you.”

The cloud crackles, much louder than before. But I don’t notice. No one tells me what I can and cannot do. NO ONE!

She turns back to me, her eyes twinkling. “Maybe there’s still hope.”

I gawk. Who is she?! What does she want?

“Nothing. You wanted this. I’m just the guide. For now.”

Did she just respond to my… thoughts? Suddenly, I realise that that’s what she’d been doing all this while. I feel an ice-cold hand grip my heart.

“Where you want to go, only the brave venture. Fear will undo you”.

The hermit had then brought his dirty, haggard face close to mine. Instinctively, I drew back.

“Bah! Go back to where you came from! Don’t waste my time”, he waved his hand off as he got up and began to walk away.

“No please! Wait!”, I ran after him and fell on his feet. I could feel the dirt and slime under my hands. I fought the urge to retch.

“Bah! You think you can fool me?! Get away before I curse you!”

I drew back my hands and folded them, “O Master, please! You are my last hope. I need to know where the Bridge is. Please don’t turn me away!”

The hermit stopped walking. His back was turned to me and I don’t know whether he meant for me to hear it, but I heard him whisper, “It is you who turns away.”

We stayed that way, for a while… me on my knees, begging… him erect, solid. All I could do was stare. And all I could feel was a deep emptiness inside me. I’d felt that before, this emptiness. Sometimes when I stared out the window of my room. Or when I walked my dog on the meadow beyond my village. Or when I sat looking at a painting I’d never finished.

But this time, it hit me hard. I fell down on my face and rolled over to the side, clutching my stomach, my knees pulled in. I don’t remember how long I stayed there.

Or when the hermit had knelt down beside me.

He brought his face close. His eyes looked into mine. Those eyes. Gray, deep, like the ocean I’d once seen. He gently touched my face, wiped my tears. I could feel his hand against my cheek. The rough, withered skin should have grazed. Instead, it felt gentle. He came closer. And closer. He kept coming till his eyes were half-closed, his head tilted just a little. My body melted deep down. I felt his desire, and it stroked mine. He breathed it in and sighed.

The stench of old ale and rotten meat hit my face. I recoiled.

He didn’t move. For a while, he just knelt there looking at me. I thought I saw a flash of pain in those eyes. It made my body wail and reach out, but my mind revolted. His eyes turned cold and hard. He got up and looked down on me. He stretched forth the staff he held and touched it to my chest. It burned like hell. I cried out, my hands flailing. I thought he’d cursed me.

But instead, he said, “That fire in you… follow it. It will lead you to where you want to go.”

That fire had led me here.

“You coming or not?”

I take a deep breath and step on the Bridge.