In the woodlands

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.