Night Witch: Part VII

A short story

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part IX | Part X

Photo by Tony Phan on Unsplash

Day 8 - Before Dawn

At night the field was a world transformed. Black blades of grass clung to her legs before whipping back and tottering for a few seconds after she passed. She knew exactly how to get to the little path she had started in the woods. As she made her way down she could smell that familiar wet earth. The air turned chill and moist from creek water. When she could hear it babbling she stopped.

The moon wasn’t out. She didn’t have a flashlight. She closed her eyes, leaned down and felt. When she opened them again they had adjusted a little. The hill here was bumpy, worn from summer rainstorms that carried water from the hills on either side of the little grove of trees down to the creek. The day before she had been able to carve a little doorway through thick berry brush. She hadn’t gone beyond that edge of forest, afraid to step into the depths of trees.

She felt her way down with her feet, careful not to trip, overextend her leg or underestimate a slight drop. Her fingers pressed into her palms, wetting her hands with warm sweat. She reached the little opening she had hacked in the bushes and paused. She looked into the forest intently, willing her eyes to see something there, but there was only black. She breathed in and stepped forward, crossing the threshold from pastoral hillsides into uncut wild. 

She held her hands, palms facing outward at either side as she stepped slowly, feeling the edges of thick stemmed brush to her right and left. The scent of them was different than before. Similar to fresh cut grass. The smell of plant wounds, their white, sticky innards dripping down the broken stems that she had sliced with her blades the day before. Ripping them. Killing them.

Had they bled as Dan bled?

She stopped walking, turned back and saw the blue night and the hills behind her that had looked so dark only moments before. But now she was entering true night.

Utter darkness.

When she turned back and started forward, her breaths were crisp leaves shaking in the wind. She held her hands out in front of her to avoid a low hanging branch. She stepped carefully once, and then again, and in twenty or so steps the night hills were invisible. She was in the deep of it.

It took her that long to realize that she was on a path. Her feet fell on soft earth. The stones and sticks, even the fallen leaves, had been cleared away. By whom, she didn’t know. Her thoughts stopped only to be grateful that she was not walking through mud or tall black grass or thorny berry bush. Her steps were sure. Even in the darkness, she would find her way.

And then, a light.

More than one. Flickers of fireflies glowing gold lit up and went out in turn. Her mouth hung open and she moved towards them. She could see a hollowed out path under tree limbs that formed an arch through the woods. On either side of them was thick brush, the limbs heavy with berries. She looked up to where the sky should be, but there was only dark leafy canopy lit up by flickering stars of firefly light, a tree carved image of the universe.

She followed the path laid out before her, moving faster now that she could see. The air grew cooler with every step. The only sound was the gentle trickle of moving water against stones. She turned back and saw that behind her, the tree tunnel was black. The fireflies were moving with her, flying ahead to blink on as she moved through darkness in the only direction she could go.

She didn’t know how long she continued that way. Maybe only minutes. Maybe an hour. But as she continued through the woods, the trees closed in, and the little arch tightened over her head. Soon, she was ducking, as if walking into a cave. There was no sound except for her breath and her feet against dirt, and the babbling creek rushing invisibly beyond, always beyond.

Suddenly, the arch of trees closed into a dead end. Thick branches wove one into the other, forming a wall in front of her. The fireflies were dotted in the slivers of black between them, their light a pulsing unity, silent and steady. She looked down, and saw a fly crawling into a little opening in the wall of trees. Then another flitted to the ground from the surrounding brush and hopped, buzzing, into the hole.

She got to her knees and looked. The fireflies moved obediently with her and lit up the darkness. It was like a damp cave. Moist earth covered the floor, and a cool breeze moved her hair. There was an opening on the other side. The sound of water echoed against the walls of the tiny tunnel.

She closed her eyes, ducked her head, and started forward. The space was cramped. Her back ached as she moved on hands and knees crawling. Beneath her fingers, something wriggled in the earth. Earthworms or grubs, long undisturbed in this strange secret place. There was no light to signify an end. Only darkness before her.

Her breath grew louder as the walls of branches and thorns closed in. It was getting smaller. The ground beneath her was getting wetter. She dropped to her stomach and pulled herself forward, working her knees as best she could in the tiny space. Sweat gathered at her hair line and dripped, tickled her ears, fell onto her collarbones.

(Don’t play in the sewer tunnels June.)

The voice mimicked her mother’s words, but June knew better.

She remembered that warning, the one she hadn’t heeded. Her mother never knew, and nothing bad ever happened. Still, the memories of following dares to go into the large concrete pipes set in the ditches around her neighborhood followed her into nightmares. Ones where she was Alice through the looking glass, growing smaller and smaller in the large maze of tunnels under the city.

As she pulled, her sides started to catch on the thorns and bits of broken wood. She could hear her cotton shirt tearing. The fireflies were pulsing faster. The light was seizure inducing, neurotically blinking on and off, on and off.

And then, the lights went out.