CHLOROPHILIA

[Reading time (full story): 39 minutes]

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[Dedicated to my beloved nephew.]

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I have lived my whole life in the countryside of Evia (or Euboea), a Greek island so close to the mainland that it’s connected to it by two bridges. Evia is a place with its own mysteries — like the tidal phenomenon in the Euripus Strait and the ’whispers’ on the Mount Dirfi — but also bears its own wounds. Here, from a young age, we become familiar with environmental mistreatment and, of course, wildfires. Yet, when we observe the remarkable way in which Nature heals her wounds in the lakes of the abandoned mines and in the Dystos wetland, we may find ourselves wishing for the day when Nature will seek vengeance…

My words may sound strange and ominous, but they are the most fitting prelude to the story that follows. And when you have read it to the very end, nothing will seem strange to you anymore — not even the creepy laugh of ten-year-old Xenia, a girl present at a horror to which she herself had contributed…

But long before we come to that scene, the events of June 2008 had their origin in the fire that swept through the grove of ancient plane trees in Rekteia (Re’-kti-a), a year earlier.

Ah yes, Rekteia: An ordinary, dull town of only ten thousand souls. Built on a flatland in central Evia, three kilometers (1.8 miles) from the island’s western shores and north of a small river the locals call the ‘Red River’ because its waters once ran red with the blood of those executed there by the Nazis. Whether because of that massacre or for reasons beyond the grasp of the human mind, Rekteia ceased for a while to be a dull little town and became a magnet for strange and inexplicable phenomena.

Twenty two years before the fire in the old plane tree grove, on May 6, 1985, a strange workplace accident occurred that shook the townspeople, mainly because it remained unexplained:

Behind a small mountain eight kilometers (4.9 miles) north of Rekteia, a mining company had been extracting nickel through open-pit mining since the 1960s. In early 1985, excavations began at a new site along the mountain ridge, closer to the edges of the inhabited area. Late on the morning of May 6, one of the excavators struck on ‘something’ that produced a massive blue flash, visible even from Rekteia. Those present at the excavation site immediately felt an intense pain, as if their eyes were burning from inside. Most of them temporarily lost their sight and required several weeks of medical care before fully recovering.

As the accident became headline news, the residents of Rekteia and the surrounding villages, anxious and confused, awaited a scientific explanation that, unfortunately, they would never receive. The scientists who examined the excavation site found nothing unusual on the surface or underground. Everything appeared completely normal. With no evidence, no one could explain what the blue light actually was or what had caused it.

Various theories circulated that summer. Some of them were reasonable, while others were completely absurd. Scientists, locals, the officials of the mining company and, of course, the journalists had turned into a parody something that could have cost the lives of those workers. Yet, at that time, Greece was caught up in pre-election fever ahead of the national elections on June 2. As a result, public attention shifted quickly from the unexplained accidents to the call for yet another national salvation…

Xenia’s father was only 21 years old, a young worker at the mine, when he was blinded for five days by the unknown blue light. After he started a family a decade later, he swore to never spoke of the accident again. And when one afternoon little Xenia asked him about the ‘water’ he put in his eyes, he told her it was medicine for his allergies. From the day he left the hospital and began looking for another job, he had in fact convinced himself that he simply suffered from a rare allergic eye condition. He didn’t want something as insane as the mysterious accident at the mine to haunt him for the rest of his life. After all, he was young, with his whole life ahead of him, and he wanted to live it away from any psychiatric institution! Sometimes, a big lie is useful to keep the mind safe from madness.

On the other hand, the mining company, after offering to the injured workers meager compensation that seemed more like a bribe, continued mining nickel undisturbed at the previous excavation site, behind the mountain. Two years later, the company declared bankruptcy due to financial scandals, leaving behind its greatest victim: a destroyed and unprotected environment.

More years passed, the arrival of the Millennium did not fulfill the prophecies about the end of the world, and before the first decade of the 2000s had even ended, Rekteia faced a new threat.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Four hundred meters (1300 feet) north of the Red River runs Rekteia’s main street, which also marks the southern boundary of the town. On the strip of land between the street and the river stretches a narrow field of olive trees, and along the riverside, a grove of ancient plane trees, rooted there for hundreds of years. If you follow the almost one-mile-long path that cuts through this area, you have already stepped into the last part of a previous larger natural landscape that has been sacrificed for the town’s development. In any case, for the locals the area was always a beloved spot for Sunday picnics and walks. What a pity they lived under such deceptive ease, thinking their little green paradise would always be safe…

Late in the afternoon of June 15, 2007, in the yard of the elementary school located at the southeastern edge of the town, right next to the river and the plane tree grove, the end-of-school-year celebration was already underway. The sun was setting, adding golden-red strokes to the blue sky, when suddenly a gray veil of smoke began spreading from the west. It took only a few seconds for disaster to erupt. Huge flames leapt from the plane trees, and thick smoke engulfed the entire area of Rekteia.

In the schoolyard, songs and laughs abruptly fell silent. Now there were only screams and panic as parents grabbed their children and ran to escape before the fire could reach them. Little Xenia didn’t take her eyes off the raging fire, not even for once, until her mother roughly pushed her into their car. Yes, it was indeed a terrifying scene for the innocent eyes of a child, but what had captured her attention so intensely was something very specific: the charred, twisted branches of a plane tree had formed something that resembled a human figure. A dark silhouette, motionless amid the havoc of the flames.

Thanks to the calm weather and the quick intervention of the fire brigade, the flames fortunately didn’t spread into the town. It reached only as far as the schoolyard and the field of the olive trees, causing limited damage. However, the grove of the large plane trees, which had withstood so many centuries as an integral part of Rekteia, was now almost entirely gone. The few trees that survived the flames would soon wither as well.

The next day, the young and charming Mayor of Rekteia, Mr. Airetikos, appeared on the evening news of a major tv channel, wearing a black suit with red lapels. With a comforting demeanor and a noticeable tremor in his voice, he declared:

“Yesterday’s fire shook us all. Yet, thanks to the swift mobilization of our services, we prevented the worst. I want to assure every citizen of Rekteia that our beloved grove has not been lost, but will rise again from its ashes. We will replant every tree, stronger than before, so that it may stand there and grace our town for many more centuries.”

His speech certainly made an impression. Yet it contained all the essential ingredients of a typical political message: fake sentimentality, reassuring promises, and above all…

…a lie!

All of this, of course, was of no concern to Xenia. The only thing on her mind at the start of her summer holidays was to find the right chance to sneak into the burned plane tree grove. She had to wait several days, since the area had been cordoned off until all the charred branches and dangerous trunks were cleared. Then, one Sunday afternoon, while people rested under the cool breeze of their air conditioners, Xenia put on her pink backpack, grabbed her bicycle, and rode down the long, empty road of her neighborhood. In just three minutes she reached the place where the beautiful ancient grove had once stood.

Beyond the few burned olive trees and all the way to the riverbank, the sight was disheartening. The green of the vegetation had been replaced by the gray of ash. Even the little water of the river had turned gray. And that awful smell of burning made it feel as if the oxygen was being stolen from your lungs. The place was a landscape of death, a cemetery.

The girl walked toward the spot where, on the day of the fire, she had seen the flaming branches form a human figure. There was nothing left there now, only the remains of charred trunks. Yet she knew very well that a little further on, there was something else too: a grave she had made herself.

She walked toward the riverbank, to the spot where the largest plane tree of the grove had once stood tall and imposing. Its massive trunk had split in half, and what remained of its branches now jutted out like the broken bones of a dismembered body. It was no longer a tree, but a black sculpture of some macabre modern art. Between the thick roots protruding from the ground there was a cross formed with large stones. She got on her knees beside it, put on the gloves hanging from the left pocket of her shorts, and, after moving the stones aside, began digging with both hands. She dug carefully and when the small skeleton finally appeared, she cleared the soil around the dog’s skull and pulled it out. She stayed still for a moment, just gazing at it with tears in her eyes. Then she took a plastic bag from her backpack containing a small rosemary bush, which she had snatched from her grandmother’s pots, and she planted it over the remaining bones. A gift of life amid death and destruction, on the grave of her beloved friend, Lupo.

Xenia and Lupo had grown up together. From the day her parents brought him home from the animal shelter, they had been inseparable. Even through her parents’ divorce, only Lupo had been her source of comfort. And his sudden death, on a rainy morning seven months earlier, had been the second thorn in her heart.

“At least he passed away peacefully in his sleep. And though he is now on his journey to heaven, he will always watch over his friend Xenia” her mother said to make her stop crying. Later, they took his small body to bury it in his favorite place for walks and play: the ancient grove of the plane trees by the river.

Unaware, Xenia was watering the rosemary she had just planted over the dog’s bones, as the bag with the yellowed skull lay beside her. She didn’t notice what was approaching until it hopped in front of her. Her scream shattered the quiet of the summer afternoon.

“You scared me! What are you doing here?” she said to the creature that had appeared out of nowhere: a rabbit with reddish-brown fur and black eyes.

“So this was your home, huh? I guess you’ll have to find a new one, buddy”, the girl continued, but the rabbit remained still in its place, just staring at her.

“Do you want to come to my house? I’ve never had a rabbit before, only a sweet little dog that died… I took such good care of him, and yet he died. I won’t let you die, I promise.”

The rabbit finally broke free from its stillness and approached hesitantly the rosemary. It sniffed at it and, with no warning, vomited onto it a green viscous liquid. Xenia recoiled immediately, both disgusted and startled by the strange behavior of the small animal. Then the rabbit began to run around the rosemary, at first slowly and then faster. And faster…

The girl watched in astonishment and her gaze caught by the frenzied circular motion of the animal, as if it were hypnotizing her. Slowly, she began to feel dizzy. She closed her eyes for a moment, just long enough to clear her vision. When she opened them again, there was no rabbit in front of her, neither anywhere around. It had simply vanished.

Xenia was not a kid who scared easily. Yet, when your instinct tells you to leave a place where strange things are happening, it’s best to listen. And Xenia did listen. That same night, before she fell asleep, two thoughts prevailed in her mind: the bizarre scene with the rabbit in the burned plane tree grove and the bucket of water mixed with bleach in which she had submerged the dog’s skull.

“I hope the bleach cleans away the dead smell before mom finds the bucket on the back balcony.”

“That rabbit... Maybe it was sick... But how could it have vanished?”

When she finally fell asleep, she dreamed of the giant plane tree wrapped in flames. As it burned, its trunk began to pulsate and slowly split apart. From the cracks oozed a green liquid that dripped like blood at the base of the tree. Then the roots began to move. One by one, they transformed into human hands, clawing frantically at the ground. The soil they hurled extinguished the fire, and the tree grew leaves again. In the end, the root-hands tangled together, forming a huge nest. Xenia stepped closer to see what lay inside: a globe, slowly spinning in the embrace of Mother Nature…

The next morning, Xenia remembered nothing of the dream. Not even that it had made her wake up drenched in sweat. She quickly went downstairs to her grandma’s apartment of the family’s duplex, and offered to do her shopping at the supermarket.

“Thank you, honey, but your mom will do the shopping when she gets back from work. If you really want to go, though, buy a few apples for me and an ice cream for yourself” said her grandma, handing her some money. The girl ran off happily to get her bike, though it wasn’t the ice cream she cared about. She wanted to dare a quick stop at the burned plane tree grove, to see if the rabbit had returned. That place gave her the chills, especially after the yesterday’s incident, but her curiosity and childish impulsiveness overpowered any fear. To her disappointment, the rabbit never reappeared. Not that day, neither on the Sundays she went to water the rosemary on Lupo’s grave.

“The poor thing probably died”, she thought sadly. She didn’t know she had mistaken the rabbit’s green vomit for sickness, but how else could a child explain the unexplainable if not with common sense? Surely it wasn’t an ordinary rabbit. Not even the rosemary was an ordinary plant, which seemed somewhat different after each watering. But Xenia would understand all these strange things in about a year, when the town’s new terror would awaken… For the time being, something wonderful awaited her: her dad would come to pick her up in early July so they could spend the rest of the summer together on the island where he worked.

“You’re so lucky your dad works on an island and will take you with him until the end of August!” said her friend Katerina one afternoon while they were hanging out with other kids in the town’s square.

“Here’s an island too, silly!” teased Xenia.

“Yeah, but Evia is a big boring island while in Skiathos you can see the sea wherever you stand.”

Katerina was right, but if she had known about the strange rabbit or had seen the rosemary, which changed its shade of green every Sunday, she might have reconsidered what makes an island ‘boring’. Of course, Xenia hadn’t told her anything, even though she was her best friend. It was part of her introverted nature to keep things to herself. Or, perhaps, she instinctively understood that the mystery, for some reason, revealed itself only to her.

While Katerina was staring at two older boys skateboarding, Xenia fixed her gaze on the marble statue of a griffin that adorned the center of the square. The two-meter-tall mythical creature, with the body of a lion and the head and wings of an eagle, stood on a low pedestal. Its head was raised, gazing at the sky with pride or arrogance. The town’s children had nicknamed it ‘Bucky’, because it reminded them of Buckbeak, the hippogriff from Harry Potter. And Bucky, unlike other monuments in the country, had never fallen victim to vandalism. On the contrary, he was always treated with respect, almost like a sacred symbol. Often, however, this respect is nothing more than the fear born of superstition and ancient myths.

Xenia kept staring at the griffin statue and imagined how much more beautiful it would look if colorful flowers were sprouting from the cracks of the old marble. She imagined them spreading through every crack the town had…