“Remember Catherine, no matter what—”
“Don’t go into the woods, I know,” I say, rolling my eyes at the constant reminder.
Mom looks at me, smiles, then pats my shoulder.
“Well then, off you go dear,” she says, turning around with rigid posture and walking away. Her heels click against the marble floors.
“Mom?” I ask. She turns around, and stares at me with a smile. “Why can’t I go into the woods? What’s in there?”
Her smile falters, but she keeps it up.
“Nothing dear. It’s just easy to lose yourself. I mean, get lost. You know?” I nod slowly, then open the door and leave.
Maeve stands at the bottom of the stairs, and perks up when she sees me. She plasters on a smile similar to my mom’s, but something about it seems unsettling.
“Hey, Catherine!” she says, linking her arm through mine.
“Do your parents ever give you the big ‘don’t go in the woods’ speech?” I ask hesitantly. I’ve never brought up the situation to anyone, but after 14 years of the same speech, every morning, it seems a little weird.
“They never needed too. Everyone knows not to go in the woods,” she responds, her smile falling off her face.
“Why? Do you plan on disobeying your mother’s rules?”
“No. Just curious if I was the only one that the woods were off limits to,” I say cautiously.
She smiles again, but holds my arm tighter.
“Do you know why we’re not allowed in the woods?”
“Of course,” she says, staring straight at me. “It’s the beast.”
“The beast?”
“It has four hairy arms, claws instead of paws, big sharp teeth, five bright red eyes, and it can be taller than the trees. If anyone disturbs its slumber, the whole town will be destroyed,” she explains, staring at the woods with horror and wonder. “No one who has left town has ever come back.”
“But the town still stands,” I say, following her gaze. The trees are tall, taller than every building in town, and it almost seems like they close over the sky. “Maeve, that sounds a lot like fantasy. I don’t think the beast is real. At least, not that version of it.”
“It is,” she snaps. “The beast is real, Catherine.”
I nod, somewhat terrified. Maeve has never been so passionately sure of anything other than the supposed beast. I still don’t believe it, but if Maeve wants to continue living in a fantasy world, so be it.
But I’m going to find out what’s really in those woods. —
I wait until I’m absolutely positive my parents are sleeping before sneaking out of my bedroom, and even then
I pretend I’m just getting a glass of water.
When no door opens, and no footsteps or floorboards creak above me, I make my way outside as quickly and quietly as possible.
My legs are bare against the cold October wind. I wish I’d brought some tights, or at least a longer jacket.
My candle blows out almost immediately, and I’m left in the dimly lit, yellowish streets. Not a single person walks about, and not a single light is on in anyone’s house. I shake as I walk towards the woods.
I’ll admit, maybe nighttime wasn’t the best time to check out some creepy, unidentifiable woods, but why stop now?
When I turn the corner that should lead me to the woods, I’m back at the other end of the street, staring at the spot I was just standing. My house is on my right and my candle rests on the deck.
I run back to the end of the street and turn the corner, only to end up back in the same predicament as before. I keep doing it, over and over, hoping for a different result each time I turn the corner.
When I try to turn the corner for what feels like the millionth time, someone blocks my way. I fall to the ground, but he just stares at me. I stand up, and stare at him.
“I’m fine. Thanks for the help and the concern.” I walk past him, shoving his shoulder and turning the corner, only to be met with the wrong street once again.
“You trying to get out too?” he asks, appearing behind me. “I’ll give you a piece of advice: don’t.”
“What’s going on? This doesn’t make sense. It’s not logical. I’ve made this turn a million times. I know where it leads!” I say, staring at the corner I just turned.
“It’s different at night. You can’t leave your street,” he explains. I look at him. Now that the shadows aren’t covering his face, he looks different than I thought he did. He has black hair, dark eyes and tan skin. “You can’t get out.”
“I don’t know you,” I say, tilting my head to look at him.
“I know you,” he says, fixing his gaze onto me. His face is unreadable. “Catherine.”
“How do you know me?”
“You’re the only other person in this town with a soul. Have you ever noticed that everyone else just kinda…stares and smiles?” he asks, sitting on the sidewalk.
I don’t know what compels me to, but I sit next to him. “It’s like they don’t have any inside thoughts, any opinions.”
“I’ve never really thought about it. That’s just how I was raised.” We stay silent for a moment, then I speak again. “You’re good at hiding, right?”
“What makes you say that?” he asks, smiling slightly.
“The fact that this town literally has a population of 150 people, and I’ve never seen you before.”
He laughs at my answer—a genuine laugh. I’ve never heard anyone laugh before. Not like that at least.
“Seriously, do you think you could help me hide in broad daylight? I need to see what’s really in those woods.”
“You don’t know of the beast?” he asks.
“You believe in the beast?”
“You don’t?” He looks at me as if I’m the one with four hairy arms and five bright red eyes.
“You seriously believe that a monster with four hairy arms, claws instead of paws, big sharp teeth, five bright red eyes, and taller than the trees is real?”
He changes his expression to one of confusion. “That’s not what the beast looks like. It lives in the water at the edge of the forest. It’s scaly and doesn’t have any arms, but its tail can wipe out the entire town with one hit. It has one eye, right in the middle of its dented head, and it has blue skin,” he explains, as if it’s common knowledge.
“Who told you that?”
He coughs out a laugh. “My third grade teacher. I was taken out of school after that day.”
“That may be another reason I’ve never seen you.”
“So, we both got two different explanations of what the beast looks like. That’s probably normal. I mean, no one has ever seen it,” he says.
I think he’s trying to be reasonable, but I also think he’s starting to see the flaws in his beliefs.
“I think we should try and escape tomorrow, during the day.” —
“Maeve told me about the beast in the woods yesterday,” I say over breakfast. Dad looks up from the paper at me, then at my mom. “Do you guys know what it looks like?”
“Why were you discussing the beast with Maeve?” my mother asks, taking a small sip of tea.
“I was wondering why I wasn’t allowed in the woods. So do you know what it looks like?” They share a glance, and my father sighs, taking off his glasses.
He begins. “It’s tall. As tall as the tallest tree in the forest—”
“Because it is the tree,” my mother continues. “You see, the beast wishes to be the tallest so that he can observe the town and make sure that no one tries to break any rules.” She smiles, then stands. “This is foolish talk. The beast is of no harm to anyone. Now, chop-chop, it’s time for school.”
She ushers me out of my chair and pushes me towards the door. As she pushes me outside towards Maeve, she picks up the candle I left outside last night. My eyes widen as she holds it, and waves us off.
When we’re a little more than halfway to school, Elijah, the boy from last night, peaks out of a shadow just long enough for me to see him, then slips back in. I walk with Maeve a little while longer before patting my pockets. “Oh shoot. I forgot my…textbook. I’ll catch up with you okay? Don’t be late to class!” I sprint away before she can protest.
I run into the shadows where Elijah is hiding as fast as I can, trying to not be seen. “Hey. Are you okay?” he asks. I nod and drop my bag to the ground.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say. He nods.
—
The woods are a lot more threatening up close, especially when there are rumours of a beast going around.
“I asked my parents about the beast,” I say, staring up at the trees. “They said it was the tallest tree in the forest, so now we have three different descriptions for the fictional beast. That should be enough to prove it’s not real. Right?”
Elijah nods. “Yeah, it should be. Are you ready?” He puts his hand out for me to take, which I do without a second thought.
Together, we walk into the forest without looking back.
The woods are damp and smell musty, despite the lack of rain we’ve been receiving lately. The ground sinks under our feet just enough to get my socks wet within mere minutes of being in the forest. We keep quiet because we don’t have anything to talk about, and because I think we’re both still a little nervous as to what could be in the woods.
The farther we walk, the more sure I am that the beast isn’t real. It couldn’t be the tallest tree in the forest, since it would have seen us pass and probably have ripped us apart by now. I haven’t seen any traces of huge footprints or fur that could prove the ‘four-armed, a claw instead of paws’ beast really exists. Now, I’m just waiting until we reach the end of the woods to see if there is a moat surrounding the woods, the only other place either of us heard of the beast resting.
The more we walk, the foggier it becomes. I wasn’t used to this kind of air—smokey, grey, and hard to breathe through—and it doesn’t seem like Elijah is either. He lifts his shirt and covers his mouth. I do the same.
We hold hands until we reach the end of the forest line, and even after that I stare at the scene in front of me in horror. It’s something I only ever imagined reading in books, not ever seeing in person.
The moat doesn’t exist, but I wish it did.
Men in green camo clothing and guns over their shoulders run around; some carrying other men on stretchers, some shooting as people from another side do the same.
The beast wasn’t real, but this was.
I’m not sure where it comes from, or why it happens, but suddenly Elijah’s hand is no longer in mine, and his body falls to the ground spasming.
“No! Elijah!” I drop to my knees beside him in an instant, and cover the bullet wound on his side. Blood covers my hand as he struggles to breathe beneath me.
Then he smiles, softly. “Thank you for helping me get out,” he manages between choked breaths.
“You’re not dying. You’re going to be okay.” I feel tears rush down my face as I watch him slowly slip away beneath me. He shakes his head.
“Kiss me. I don’t—” he coughs up blood. I do what he asks before he finishes his next sentence, before he has the chance to die. Fresh blood covers my lips, but I swear, I’ve never felt better about anything my whole life.
With what I am assuming is all the strength left in him, he cups my face with both of his hands, kissing me back.
Of course, I’ve pictured this moment; my first kiss. Who hasn’t? But I never saw it like this, watching the boy I think I like die underneath me, being absolutely sure that I’m soon to follow in his footsteps. At least we’ll die together, out of that town.
I refuse to take my hands off the bullet wound on his side, and I refuse to take my lips off him until I can no longer feel his breath above my lip, until his hands fall limp next to his sides. Only then do I stop kissing him. I’m still crying. I cried throughout the entire kiss. Still, I’ll be happy if those are my last moments.
As if on cue, I feel something hard hit the back of my head. I sense a presence behind me, and I immediately stop crying, staring at Elijah’s lifeless body in front of me. I could join him right now, if this guy has the guts to shoot me.
I don’t look at the soldier behind me, afraid he won’t shoot me if he sees that I am just a kid. The pressure of the gun moves away from my head.
I look at him just in time to see him to pull the trigger with it aimed at my head.
by A. B-M. (13 years old)
