The Forest

On a cold evening in winter, snow fell from the sky—caressed the earth with a glow that seemed to come from angels.  It tongued whispered songs in a language too ancient to understand.  The frost had settled into the place, and it had begun to move its hard bristles over the dry landscape.

This is how it began.

I was cold.  Terribly cold.  My hands were red and numb, and skin flaked from my shaking fingers before, at last, I shoved them deep into my pockets.  I wrapped narrow fingers around a cracked compass—my last remaining tether to a recognizable world.

I don’t recall much of this time outside the forest well enough to say what exactly I was thinking about.  I really can’t recall why I was out there at all.  But with or without knowing the reason, there I was amidst angels at the mouth of the forest.  With each gust of wind, the trees moved and danced with the breeze.  I can remember thinking that the trees and the forest itself were breathing.

Whether it was that or something else that did it, I was drawn into the woods.

The forest pulled me in.

.   .   .

I awoke to a feeling I can only really relate to vertigo.

I felt lost.

Fear was there, I’m certain of that, but it took an immediate backseat to my own fascination and reckless infatuation with the world around me.  My eyes were open, and I was certain I could not close them again.

I arose from a stone table, standing alone in the heart of the forest.  To my surprise, the table had no snow atop it.  I think now that seeing that at any other time would have baffled me.  But, at that moment, there seemed to be so many more important things than a table that collected no snow on a winter’s morning.

Curiosity overtook everything.

I think, in recollection, I really should have been afraid.  Logically, one waking up in a strange place with no knowledge of how one got there would be frightened.  To a logical person, in a logical situation, this truly is terrifying.

Curiosity overtook logic.

I became intoxicated with the beauty of the forest.  The perfect white of the fallen snow, the nakedness of the frozen trees, the eternal cycle of death and rebirth, the beautiful innocence of the nature that enveloped me; I was embarrassed by their honesty.

I could hear animals in the distance, trying their best to stay warm through the frigid winter morning.  And that was when I realized that I was not cold whatsoever.  My hands, once raw and red, were now simply my hands.  They were void of all feeling, hot or cold.

And then suddenly, another thought came to mind: it might not have been morning at all.  It’s possible that it could have been days—weeks—later.  A rational mind thinks of these things; and a rational mind fears them.  And though I thought it, I gave no weight to it.

Curiosity overtook rationality.

I walked in a circle around the stone table, running my hands over the smooth slate.  I let my gaze wander through the snow-covered everything, and I soaked in their beauty.

With each second, the forest seemed to come alive increasingly.  Its breaths were my breaths; its pulse was my pulse.  And in that instant, I was alive with the forest.  I closed my eyes, and I felt it within me.  I breathed deep—deeper than I ever had before.  I let the cold penetrate my lungs and pass through me.  It enticed and provoked my spirit, making me increasingly alive, as I believe the forest was.

I lost everything.  I lost reality.  I lost myself.

And then, something brought me back.

I heard something far off in the distance.  It was soft at first but slowly rose in my ears.  I opened my eyes, and I pondered not the origin, but the meaning of this sound.

I slowly came to realize that it was a voice.

A woman’s voice.

And it was, by far, the most beautiful thing that I had ever heard.

The sound of it alone made me forget my place in this forest.  It made me forget how alive the forest made me, because the sound of her voice made me more alive than even the forest could.

The beauty of it brought me to my knees in weakness and tears, and I knew somewhere in the depths of my heart—my very bones—that this voice was why I was drawn into this place.  The voice gave meaning to the senselessness and filled in the spaces left in my heart by the mystery of the forest.  I understood, at that moment, that she was meant for me and I for her.

I needed to find this woman.

But the sound of her beautiful voice was dying out—fighting a losing battle—against the subtle sounds of the forest and the morning doves.  She was fading far into the depths of the snow-covered trees where soon the silent breeze would quash what little of her beauty remained.

And I couldn’t let that happen.

After having that beauty, I couldn’t give it up—I wouldn't.

I had to find it.  Follow it. Take it.

I needed it.

So, I arose from my knees, and I followed the faint sounds into the dense thick of the trees and the wilderness.

I made my way through passes, however I managed to fit.  The sound was dying quickly, so I began to run.  I tried my best to squeeze through apertures of the snow-bitten trees, which was becoming increasingly difficult with each step.

I moved as quickly as possible through the forest, but, despite my efforts, I didn’t make it to her voice.

Her song stopped.

But the beauty hadn't gone from me entirely.  Each beautiful note was etched into my soul and engraved into my memory.  For a while, I wept and did not think of anything but how I needed it back.

I backed myself into a tree and allowed myself to slide down, slowly catching my breath.  I felt warm and tired.  Tears rolled down my ruddy cheeks and continued until, at last, I fell asleep in the peaceful quiet of that winter's morning.

I slept for a long time after that.

.   .   .

When I awoke, what had transpired only hours before, seemed as if only a dream.  It was some distant fantasy I couldn’t bring myself to entirely recall.  Everything, all my love, reduced to a speck of dust, floating through the corridors of my mind.

The time I spent sleeping is not a fact I can recollect with any kind of certainty.  But when I awoke, the sun was high in the blue morning sky, so it was either still late morning, or this was later.  Far later.

I managed to suppress my doubts of time and to simply convince myself that this was only hours later in the same day.  I think I had confidence of that, because my cheeks felt caked with tears that had only recently dried.  But again, these are the details most difficult for me to recall.

I was cold again, and curiosity was all but gone; vertigo had also turned its unpleasant head again; and fear, too, took its small role in the family of things.

I was ready to leave the forest then, but I didn’t know the way.

I began to walk towards the rising sun, though I knew not why.  Maybe I assumed that in any direction, if one should walk far enough, one should by all logical means reach the end of such a place.  Maybe I wasn’t thinking at all.

Hours passed.

My skin was red and stung from the harsh cold of this winter afternoon.  The breeze began to pick up and I put my hands and arms under my shoulders for warmth.  I tucked my chin into my chest and began to give up hope of ever escaping this hopeless place.

That was when I heard it again.

The voice, her voice,  her beautiful voice, was rising over everything.  It rang out loudly and powerfully through the trees. It was coming from the direction that I was headed.  I ran.  Wasting no time, I was at a full out sprint.

With every beat of my heart, with every breath of my lungs, her voice grew louder and, in some obscure way, even more beautiful.  The sweet melody resonated in my ears, and I ran faster and faster.

Every part of me regained warmth.

Some might say that it was my running through the forest, but no one could convince me, now or then, that it was anything but her.

Finally, I came to a stop; and so did the voice.

I was there.

She began to sing again.

It was softer this time, but still so beautiful.  The tune made gentle love to my ears.  It was as delicate as a flower petal, yet as powerful as a symphony.

Standing at the mouth of a river, frozen with both ice and time, I saw her.  She was walking along its solid surface, singing her angelic melody—toying very playfully with my infatuation.

She, herself, was as beautiful as the song she sang.

From the beginning, I just wanted to hold her in my arms.  Just to waste my time looking into her eyes.  Listening to her song was everything I could ever want.  This was, very really, all I would ever need.

But as she walked, the ice cracked beneath her feet.  

The woman, my angel, fell into the freezing depths, and the song drowned away with her, taking every part of me with it.  I needed it back.  I needed her.

Without thinking, without logic, without rationality, and without fear, I leaped into the river after her.

It was a mistake I don’t regret.

We were both in the water.  There, together, we looked into each other’s eyes.  And in that instance, without words, we knew.  And suddenly, the world was soft—suddenly, time stood still.

I outstretched my arm and extended my fingers.  She grasped to them, and I pulled her to me.  Together we swam against the flow of the river towards the crack in the ice.

The struggle was unbearable.  Each stroke was a feeble attempt against the prodigious flow.  Every second in that river seemed an hour, every minute an eternity.  The freezing water seemed a vice around me... yet, with her, I was warm.  And with her, I triumphed.  I reached the crack and pulled with everything.  I got her onto the ice, and she helped pull me to the icy surface of the river as well.

She helped me to the bank where she laid me down in the snow.  She kissed me sweetly on my forehead and whispered in my ear, "Thank you."

After that, I fell asleep, breathing heavily.

.   .   .

I awoke in a cabin, clearly somewhere in the forest.  Distantly, a fire was cracking.  And she was there, staring very gently at me.

She knelt before me, touching my face with her smooth hand.  I felt warm inside.  Beauty poured from her.

"You saved me," she began.  "Thank you.  Thank you so much."

She hugged me for a long time and kissed me again.  I paused looking into her eyes, and she began to cry.

"You want to thank me?" I asked, pulling away.

"More than anything," she said through her tears.

"Then shut your eyes…" I said pausing again, "and sing to me."

.end.