No, this one sort of reminded me of me.
A woman stood in a meadow of wildflowers in a long flowing dress. Her long black hair blew from an unseen wind. Birds nested in the tree next to her. The sky was a brilliant blue with fat puffs of white clouds floating nearby. The picture was beautiful.
But my stomach clenched at what had been painted behind the young woman. A blanket of shadows hovered behind her and above her head. Shadows that had a distinct shape. A sweeping whimsical shape.
That of wings jutting from her back.
And just like that I lost my appetite.
***
Chapter 9
Darkness surrounded me. The sensation was thick and oppressive, and I subconsciously wiped at my arms, hoping to slough off its weight. I was in a forest; the trees pressed together, twisted limbs intertwining and reaching for me. Moonlight barely passed through the heavy canopy overhead. I could see my hands and my feet as I walked, but not much else.
But I could hear and smell everything around me.
Branches snapped underneath my feet. The popping echoed, bouncing off trees and scraggily bushes, sounding much louder than it should have been. The strong odor of wet moss and leaves wafted upward on a puff of cool night air—and underneath that was the smell of rot and decay mingled, making my nose twitch.
Other noises and scents swirled around me. Things I couldn’t discern or identify. Fear crept over me like a bunch of baby spiders scurrying along my skin, and I wrapped my arms around my body, shivering. I didn’t know where I was or when I was but somehow the sights all seemed familiar. Like I’d run through these woods before.
A groaning sound from my right gave me pause. I turned toward the noise, not sure of what I’d see. Then came another and another, as if someone old and stiff was pushing out of a rocking chair to stand and having a difficult time.
I took a step to my right, frightened but curious at what might spring out in the dark. I kept walking until I came to an enormous oak tree. Even in the gloom, I could see how huge it was, both tall and wide. I didn’t think I could wrap my arms around the trunk.
Something about the tree called to me. I leaned closer, inspecting the patterns the rough bark made along the base, questioning what I’d see. Splaying my hand wide, I pressed it to the wood. Unexpected warmth radiated from it.
Startled, I snatched back my hand. My palm was still warm and tingly. I peered down at it to see if I’d accidentally touched something toxic. But the skin was clear and pale like it always was. Nothing visible was burning me.
Another groan sounded. It was much louder and seemed come directly from the tree itself. I took a step back and glanced up the towering length of the massive oak. Thick leafy branches were moving, slowly sure, but they were moving, and I didn’t feel a wind strong enough to do that. They swayed on their own.
I took another distancing step back from the tree. Heart hammering and whole body shaking, I watched transfixed as the tree trunk split open like a peapod. The tearing sound was like a crack of lightning had struck nearby. A sizzle of something electric in the air skimmed over my skin, causing the little hairs to stir.
Sap ran down in rivulets along the bark—like blood running from an open wound. I had an urge to reach out and press my palms to the opening to stop the tree from bleeding, thinking somehow that my gesture would save it from what was about to happen.
Pieces of bark moved and twisted, forming some kind of pattern. At first, I couldn’t discern the shape. It was foreign and alien to me. But after another minute of turning and forming and molding together, I knew what I was staring at.
A face.
The surface of the tree stopping moving and I leaned closer to get a good look at the face formed in the wood. Two horizontal slits that had been formed in the shape cracked open. And they blinked. “Nina…”
The voice came from the tree, from the mouth forming in the face. Astounded, I stumbled backwards, tripping over a large rock and landing on my ass on the hard dirt ground.
“Nina…”
The tree face burst from the tree and with it came a wooden body, twisted and malformed. A limb reached toward me, its fingers like spears.
I scrambled on the ground, trying to get away. Terror seized me and I could barely breathe.
The body stumbled closer, moving faster than I thought possible. I tried to turn to gain my feet and run, but its hard warped fingers grasped my arm. I swatted at it, not wanting to touch it but knowing I had to. But as I did, I made the mistake of looking up into that malformed face and saw my father’s beloved features.
“No!” I screamed, blind with panic, swiping at my arm to get it away.
“Nina. Nina, it’s all right. I’m here.”
My father’s voice sounded so clear, so normal. But it was a trick. The tree creature was trying to trick me. “Get away!” I flailed my arms and kicked out with my legs.
“Nina. Stop!”
The voice’s adamant tone gave me pause and I risked a peek at the wooden golem, afraid to gaze at it again but knowing I had to.
My father gazed back down at me. He was holding my arm and sitting on my legs.
Confused, I looked down at myself. I wasn’t on the ground of the woods but in my bed, twisted and wrapped up in my sheets. Turning my head, I saw that I was in my room, maybe at dusk by the slight gloom outside the window.
“Da?”
He nodded, his face pale, his eyes sunken and dark. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a few days. “You’re safe, Nina. I got you, my girl. I got you.”
Relief spread through me like a rush of furnace heat. Closing my eyes, I collapsed back into my bed and took in a huge breath of air. I relaxed my arms and legs and stretched them out. Already, I could feel the ache in my muscles that would come from all my thrashing about.
“Bad dreams, darling?”
I opened my eyes and blinked up at my father. “The worst.”
He patted my leg. “You’re okay now.”
“Am I sick, Da?”
He nodded. “I heard you getting sick the other night. You could hardly walk, so I brought you to your bed. You’ve been feverish for over twenty four hours now.”
I ran a hand over my face. My skin was sweat slicked and warm. “Is there water?”
He reached over to grab a water cup from my bedside table and handed it to me.
I raised my head and took a few sips then handed it back to him. I couldn’t remember the last time I was sick. Maybe over twenty years ago. Maybe never.
“Did the hospital call?” In all the years I’d worked there, I’d never taken a sick day. At least, not until all this stuff with my father had happened.
He nodded. “I told them you quit.”
“What?” Maybe I had heard him wrong.
“I told them you weren’t ever coming back.” His mouth spread into a wide smile.
I sat up, confused, angry. “Why would you do that?”
He tilted his head and regarded me. I found it strange how he was looking at me. A maniacal kind of gleam lit his eyes. “Because you’re dead, Nina. You drowned in the pond in the garden, remember?”
I recoiled in horror. Scrambling away from his words and what he was saying to me. I shook my head. “Da, you’re confused. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
His grin grew bigger, wider, impossible for his facial shape.
I could see bits of green between his lips—it looked like algae, wet and dark, stuck in his gum line.
“Nightfall is coming for you, darling. It’s pointless to fight it.” He grabbed my arm hard, his fingers digging into my skin.
I tore at his hand, trying desperately to get away. But he had a strong hold on me. Impossibly strong.
As I ripped and tore at him, he just smiled, as if we were play fighting, as if I was five and he was the tickle monster trying to make me giggle uncontrollably. But I wasn’t laughing. No, I was screaming.
Especially when green tendrils, like ropey vines, burst through the back of his hands and wrapped around my wrists.
“Stop fighting, stupidz girl,” he slurred as he pulled me close.
I continued to fight, but lost all reason when the leafy vines exploded out his eyes and shot towards me…
“Da!” I screamed as I bolted straight up from my bed like a wooden board.
Gulping in air, I looked around, my hand pressed to my chest trying to keep my heart in. I was alone in my bedroom. Frantic, I swirled around, searching all corners of my room, but my father was nowhere to be seen.
Sweating profusely, I ran my hands down my chest to my legs which were tangled tightly in the sheets. Like a cocoon, the cotton fabric hugged me tight. I felt constricted and tied down. Yes, the sensation was like someone had wrapped me up in rope—in vines.
It was dream. An awful horrible terrifying nightmare. But a dream just the same.
Once I could breathe properly, my lungs burning less, I shoved aside the sheets and swung my legs over the side of the bed. I wore my white cotton nightgown which was stuck to my body from what seemed like buckets of sweat. I was feverish and had been for the past day or so. For the first time in my life, I was sick. In a flash, the memories flooded back.
After the night Severin had visited me, I had fallen ill. Sick to my stomach, I’d vomited for hours. Feeling weak and dizzy, I couldn’t stand. My dad had found me on all fours in the bathroom and he had helped me to my bedroom. And there I’d remained until now.
I knew my dad had come and checked on me now and then. I sensed that he had, even if I didn’t totally remember it. Briefly, I remembered him sitting beside me on the bed and crying. His tears had dotted my hand. I could still feel the salty liquid on my skin.
Unfortunately, the dreams were still fresh in my mind. Those I remembered. Fevered chaotic dreams about the woods and talking trees and violence and blood and cold water that screamed my name. If I took a deep breath, I knew I’d still smell the cloying metallic tang in the air.
Pushing up to stand, I shuffled across the room, still feeling weak, but not as dizzy, not as out of control. I checked in my father’s room, but he wasn’t there. I padded down the stairs and into the living room. He was fast asleep on the sofa.