Monstrous Love

Art by James Fenner (@JMFenner91 on Twitter)

The first time I sensed its presence, I didn’t exactly feel afraid… It was more like a wary feeling nibbling at the back of my head.

It was night time and I think I had hit one of the many rocks edged along the way. The wheel hadn’t broken, but it was a lot more crooked now and pulling slightly to the side.

Nobody in my village risked taking this old trail to travel or even to transport cargo to Chalkbarrel, the closest neighboring town. Most people preferred to take the longer route, a recently built, much safer, and better-kept road that also took three times longer to reach Chalkbarrel. They called it ‘the New Chalk Road’.

The old trail ran close to the borders of Redwood, a dark ancient forest that stood in the middle of the way between my village and Chalkbarrel. Home to hungry spirits, trickster magical creatures and dangerous deadly beasts, whoever dared to enter Redwood forest never managed to come out to tell the tale.

The woods used to claim everyone who dared to trespass, and even traveling alongside its borders proved to be a mortal peril. Many stories had been told about the monsters of Redwood who snatched up the unwary careless travelers that ventured too close to the forest’s edge.

Ever since I had started my delivery business – which hadn’t been that long – I’d never dared to take on the Redwood abandoned trail. It was a path riddled with overgrown vegetation that hid too many treacherous holes and had sharp rocks scattered all around. Wagon riders used to call trails like this ‘wheel-busters’ and I was beginning to understand why.

I had a cargo to deliver to Chalkbarrel and I risked taking up this trail, just this one time, since it was a much shorter path and it would save me a lot of time. I wasn’t counting on busting up a wheel on the first ten minutes into the trail though.

The Redwood trail was a certified nightmare for anyone with a big wagon but lucky for me, I had a very small one and I reckoned I could pass through while cutting down to less than half of the expected time delivery.

People around the area paid handsomely well for fast deliveries and I was in dire need of extra coins, so this night I had decided to gamble with my luck. The trail was a ‘wagon-buster’ for sure, but I hoped that if I was careful enough, I could bring all my cargo in one piece and most importantly, ahead of time.

But I hadn’t gone too far down the road and my left wheel was already in need of a good tinkering. Thankfully, it seemed to be something that I knew how to fix and I was sure that with a quick stop and a few twists and pulls on the wheel’s bolster clip, I would be good to go again.

As I gave one last tug to tighten up the bolster, ole’ Wooly bristled and yanked at his harness, making me halt in alarm. I raised the oil lamp that I had brought along and looked around, searching for the source of disturbance.

The trail was deserted, all I could see was the darker silhouette of Redwood at my left side and a few small red flowers scattered through the grass by the foot of the forest. There was nothing dangerous that I could see, but my faithful steed wasn’t one to bristle for no reason.

When I was little, my mother used to tell tales of the creatures that lived in ancient woods like this. She didn’t paint them as evil, though, like most usually did. She’d say they could be dangerous, but so were wolves or bears. Their power and strength didn’t make them inherently bad, they were forces of nature to be reckoned with, and the best we could do was to pay them respect, be wary and leave them be.

‘People could be just as dangerous and deadly’, she would also say to me. Some might say we were mighty greedy and even evil to these same creatures that we weaved all the cautionary tales about. We had stolen the treasures buried in their land, desecrated their heritage, lifestyle, and their magic, cutting down their trees, burning their forests, and destroying their homes. Those forest creatures were right to defend themselves, as viciously and fiercely as they felt needed to be.

But humans were the ones writing the story and in our books, they were the villains of every told tale. So, we painted them as evil and killed them with righteous glee until there were almost none of them left, except for those still dwelling in ancient stretches of land, deep into forests and hidden valleys, where men wouldn’t dare to venture yet.

I heard from my mother’s tales that some woodling spirits wouldn’t leave their land due to some sort of magic binding them and keeping them within the boundaries of their territory. So I would probably be safe here where I was, at the border of the forest. So I hoped.

Wooly stomped his hoof on the ground and huffed impatiently, trying to make me hurry so we could leave already. My faithful friend was very good at warning me if something wasn’t quite right. Animals in general had good discernment for that.

And then I felt its presence. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as my eyes caught a glimpse of a dark silhouette moving in my peripheral view. Wooly whined loudly, insisting for me to get back on the wagon.

I had to agree with the horse. We had strange company here for sure.

I squinted my eyes, trying to find the mysterious presence lurking by. The moon had dipped a little lower in the sky and the shadow cast by the trees stretched towards the wagon, reaching out to me. An intrusive thought prickled inside my head… What if I went to check what that mystery was… it would only take a minute, only a few steps closer to the forest… and then I could see what this thing was…

Or I could just get back on my wagon and carry on with my journey, the thought came to me loud and clear, sounding a lot more like myself.

I gave one last wary look at the trees at the border of the forest before I climbed on my wagon and clicked my tongue at Wooly, who neighed softly in relief, letting me know how glad he was to be finally leaving.

Then we galloped ahead and away from whatever it was lurking in Redwood.