All I remember is thinking ‘how pretty the trees smile’. I
didn’t see the impossibility of the matter, only thinking how perfect their wooden
faces were. Their emerald hats gleamed in the false starlight and their hollow
eyes enticed me forward. My bare feet were cutting against the knife-like
stores on the path, but the pain didn’t feel like it should have. I could see
the stones; I could see the cuts; I could see the blood. Yet, it felt more like
walking on the pricks of feathers the pain was so insignificant. In my stupor I
blindly walked on as the trees waved me forward alluringly. The birds sang their
hypnotic lullaby as they flew beside me. The waves of colours carried me
through the woodland like a feathery boat. The treasure chest of colours kept
me from talking: the emeralds; the rubies; the golds. I had never seen so many jewels
and the wonder of it reduced me to a child. I eagerly followed, like an infant
following a fairy-tale through the woods. As I reached the sixteenth corner, I became
aware of the creatures that had joined my forgotten quest: Rabbits, deer, squirrels
and wolves. They all walked as mystified as me. They too ignored the pain; they
too were stupefied by the winged treasures; they too loved the cherub-like trees.
They all smiled eerily revelling their pointed teeth am empty eyes. As I began
to wonder if I should turn away, a fountain of orange leaves fell like burning
embers as we enter the opening.
That’s when all behind me disappeared.
The enormity of the opening was what hit me first: the
claustrophic enormity. Its fish bowl appearance was littered with wild flowers,
which lay like clumped corpses waiting for burial. A small pool of picturesque
water lay stagnant under the wasting willow, acting as a stage curtain to the unexpected
traveller. In the middle, lay a tree stump, encircled by five lesser stones set
out like a ‘wonderland’ tea party. On the stump stood an idyllic spread of
luscious berries and delicious fruits. The scarlet skin of the apples and raspberries
looked ready to burst, oozing out their tasty flesh. The green of the pears and
gooseberries set off all my senses; their taste infected my bloodstream through
touch. I hypnotically licked my lips, entranced by the thought of their taste:
would they be sweet? Would they be sour? Would they be juicy? Would they be vile?
The thought was all that consumed my being. I thought of the berries, not the growing
darkness; I thought of the apples, not the crumbling woods around me; I thought
of the pears, not the woman emerging from the decaying woodlands.
Then I took a bite.
I don’t remember starting to run, nor do I remember why I started
to run. All I remember is the running. All I remember is the fear. The floor
was knives now, and my feet were drowned in my scarlet blood, and the trees no
longer smiled, instead snatches at my skin as I ran away. The birds screamed
threats as I raced past, their angelic faces turning into that of devils, their
beaks like jousting lances aimed at my throat.
Then I saw her.
Then I stopped dead.
She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen:
beautifully terrifying. Her hair was a waterfall of never-ending charcoal which
looped and curled in intricate circles. Her skin was as white as snow, looking
untouched due to its smoothness and porcelain appearance. She gestured
alluringly for me to come forward. I had lost all control and I mindlessly
followed like a lamb to slaughter.
“Come!” she told me. Her lips didn’t move, but her voice as
too solid to be ignored. But I didn’t question it. Instead, I blindly moved as
commanded. Her blazing olive eyes cut into me like arrows, but I still
continued forward. The woodlands blurred, and my pursuers disappeared. I was
left with just her and her voice which lay stagnant in my mind like the silent
deafening of a satanic angel.
“Eat”, she commanded, stretching her arm out, unveiling a
piece of deleterious fruit. The crimson apple gleamed seductively, tempting me
to eat. I raised my trembling fingers to take the poisonous treasure, despite
my better thinking screaming me to stop.
“Eat”, she ordered again. This time the apple was close to
my lips, its scarlet skin infecting my lips with their luscious taste.
“No!” I screamed, chucking the festering fruit. As it hit the
ground, it started to decay, its succulent scarlet turning to a deathly dark
brown with blackened circles where its fragrant soul oozed out. The woman’s
face darkened, her eyes changing from the charming olive colour to a demonic
black.
Then I was
suffocated in a blinding darkness.
The light restored and the woman was gone. The woodland had
returned to a mundane being with none of the glamour of before. It was
desperately barren and unimpressive. In my hands lay a single, unimpressive scarlet
apple.
Then I took a bite.
