by Power, Max
Darkly Wood is I fear, one of the most spectacular forests I have ever had the experience to encounter. Rising high above the small village of Cranby, it dominates the landscape. However it is neither foreboding nor ominous at first sight, rather it has an attractive, alluring quality that instantly conjures up a desire for family picnics and long strolls on a crisp spring morning.
Such a Wood, such an amenity seeks out those that find pleasure in the simple and pure things in life. Or so it would seem. On closer inspection, though dear reader I would not myself encourage such a foolish act, the forest is at least in appearance at first, no different to many other such woodlands across the country. At its outer edge one can find an exciting and varied range of trees. There are to be found there Beech, Oak, Sycamore, Elm and Chestnut trees, all scattered and intermingled with each other as though God himself had taken a selection of mixed seeds and tossed them about randomly. There is no discernable planting pattern and the variety of trees in this woodland must make it the envy of forests across the country.
And so essentially, John began the story of the Wood, almost as though he were writing a local guide book to describe the wood and its flora and fauna. He continued in this fashion for a tad longer, but it has purpose, a mere preamble to what is to follow;
Further in, but only just, a new thicker scattering of trees emerge although at first glance these appear to be largely Ash which have tried hard to dominate the second line of defence in the Wood. But there are more surprises still and the forest holds hidden beyond its outer edge, Hazel and Holly, Blackthorn and Hawthorn and deeper still the collection adds a further dimension to its arrangement.
For not only is there a wide variety of broad and narrow leaf, deciduous and evergreens, their very arrangement is what fascinates most. Unlike any other forest I have ever seen, Darkly Wood has an intensity and depth beyond its fringe that has to be seen to be believed. It is as if the trees have conspired to hold a secret at the heart of the Wood, clinging to each other, greedily filling every space, leaning and twisting, falling over and uprooting to make access as difficult as possible.
Where spaces or gaps occur, it would seem that some great giant has planted enormous boulders or upturned the earth into natural jagged impassable rockeries or hills enveloped in tree and plant roots. There are nettles and ferns, thorny gorse and hedge with spikes and spines to tear at any intruder. It seems an almost impossible landscape and how so many great giants survive through the competition for nutrition from the soil or light from the barely visible sky is a mystery I have not been able to solve.
From his descriptions at this point, he begins to darken the tone, but he has not finished and slowly he introduces his true intentions, his desire to issue a veiled warning;
Yet, if first impressions are ones to go by, it is a pleasant enough place to find solitude on a peaceful Sunday walk. So long as one keeps to the rough meandering paths, worn clear by generations of walkers that ebb and flow along its outer reaches, there is nothing to fear from its darker heart. But dare to delve deeper, be foolish enough to explore and Darkly Wood lives up to its name and reputation.
There is a stream which disappears into the Wood and eventually emerges on the far side, having vanished beyond the reach of all passers for some distance. Were you to look down from above, you would see only the dense canopy of tree tops but the presence of Crack Willow would hint at the existence of water at the heart of the forest.
Different trees can tell different stories. The Elms, few and far between at the edge of the Wood, become denser and thicker at the unexplored heart of Darkly Wood. Perhaps their presence is trying to tell the traveler to be wary, for the Elm tree is often associated in folklore with death. Elm of course was most commonly used in the past as the raw material for coffins.
So while its history is filled with strange and ominous stories, Darkly Wood itself is no more or no less than what you make of it. It is the sum of its parts. It has no special plant or tree unique to its possession. Indeed, its aspect and size do not in themselves make for particular note. The sun that feeds its fauna and the wind that cools the leaves on its trees bake no hotter nor blow no stronger than on any other similar woodland I suspect.
J.S. Toner still avoids the truth and one can only speculate as to the reason for this. Having told so many stories of dread in his little volume, his darkest warning comes at the end of the short little chapter;
Yet, it is more than it seems. For most, Darkly Wood will be nothing more than another nice or interesting place to visit. For most, it holds no threat and no fear other than perhaps whatever one might hold in one’s head on the back of tales told by people like me. But most folks do not possess the essential ingredient that attracts the darkness that lurks within that Wood. I would imagine that those in possession of the one thing that Darkly Wood desires most are not even aware that it is in their gift to attract the evil that lurks there. Such people are few and far between and seldom do they cross the paths that lead to this very special place.
Occasionally, there are other victims of the Wood, but only very occasionally. Those that fall foul of the place by accident or chance, are victims of circumstance, usually collateral to the intended victim.
So go on. Be brave. Fear not. If you happen to come upon a village called Cranby on your travels, again fear not. It is most likely that you will not fall foul of its taste for blood. Chances are, you are not the right kind of person. The reality is that if you are, you won’t know anyway and in order to find out, you will have to have the misfortune to come across Darkly Wood and engage the misadventure to explore what it has to offer. By then of course, it will be too late.
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT- THE HEADSTONE
The darkening sky was rumbling once more. The sound carried more than the threat of a storm for Daisy. Along with the rumble the noise carried a frightening memory. It sounded like a hungry belly. Woody had stopped laughing. He had scampered across the make shift graveyard and planted himself atop of a head stone. His legs were crossed, his elbow was propping his head on his crossed knee and a splayed hand supported his chin. He was posing and waiting for Daisy May to compose herself. He was excited and impatient, but this was what he had waited for and he was going to enjoy every moment now. It would not take long at all. Everything else faded from his mind. Woody was a creature with a singular purpose.
For her part, Daisy May was stunned and heart broken. She knelt over Benjamin and though frightened, there was a numbness that had descended upon her. It was hard to control her emotions. One moment she faced absolute and complete terror, the next she was encountering the depths of despair as Benjamin died as she held him in her arms. Her love for him was even stronger than she had imagined and her heart was creaking under the strain. Woody found the whole thing fascinating, whilst Daisy May was simply distraught and utterly confused. She had fallen into an almost emotionless state. The pain was too much for her to cope with and she needed to be alert. There was a blank spot in her brain. She didn’t know it, but Daisy was in shock. Her own body was trying to save her, trying to help her cope with the trauma. Daisy had no idea how long she sat and held Benjamin, but it felt like an age. At some point she began to regain a notion of her situation again. Eventually she looked across at Woody.
Daisy was afraid but not fearful in any specific sense. One thing settled in her mind. Woody was to blame. He had done this, all of it. She hated the creature and again she remembered her father’s advice. She would not let this thing dominate her and control her. Daisy stayed where she was, kneeling in the dirt. Turning her attention to her filthy clothes and arms, Daisy began to brush off the loose dirt and leaves, ignoring Woody totally. He remained in her peripheral vision and she could see him shifting uncomfortably. The creature craved her attention. He was waiting patiently, but Daisy guessed he didn’t have that much patience left. So she ignored him completely. Daisy wanted to wrest control back.
When she had brushed her top and arms, Daisy ca
refully and lovingly crossed Benjamin’s arms across his chest. She did not know why she did such a thing. It just felt right. Then she leaned over and kissed him ever so gently on the lips. Woody watched the touching scene without any empathy. His only sensation was desire. Daisy May his prize, was just yards away. It was so tantalizing. Unconsciously, he actually licked his broad purple lips and then he twiddled his fingers on his chin.
The pose he had adopted was uncomfortable and it was a pose. Woody was waiting, trying to create a certain impression. It was not normally something he would have done. Woody was a wild creature of the woods. He was worse than that. Such a false pretense did not become him. In a way he was actually trying to impress Daisy. It wasn’t necessary but the irony of his actions was lost to the boy beast. In trying to behave like his prey, in trying to make an impact, he lost much of his power.
Daisy was supposed to have spoken to him by now, or at least approached him. ‘Surely she had to want to know’ he thought. They all did, but especially this one. How her curiosity could not be driving her insane was beyond him. But she was still ignoring him. It was as though she couldn’t see him, as if he wasn’t there or didn’t matter. The less she cared, the more he wanted her to. He shifted on his gravestone perch, uncrossing his legs and he placed his hands on his knees. Daisy May stood up straight leaned to the side and brushed off her legs and Woody smiled. This was it, he thought.
But it wasn’t. Once she had dusted the debris from her legs, Daisy May turned her back on Woody, put her hands on her hips and began to survey the clearing again. There had to be a way out and looking for it, was as good a way to ignore Woody as any. She needed to focus. Then she heard the familiar sound once more. It was the faintest of calls that seemed to drift in from high above over the tree tops and the words, though soft and low, could clearly be heard. They immediately got her attention.
“Daisy May” the voice whispered in and whistled through the canopy overhead, “Daisy May.”
Instinctively, she spun around thinking it might be some of the creature’s trickery. He just sat there, looking up just like her, clearly hearing the same sound that she heard. Woody knew she was looking at him and took his opportunity. He snapped his head down and stared directly at her.
“Daisyee Mayee.”
He mimicked the call in a hiss of a voice and cocked his head slightly as if sneering at her. He held his long arms out in front of him and made a gesture that looked like someone tinkling on a piano.
“You hear it too?” he asked trying to draw her in.
It worked. Daisy May just couldn’t help herself. Ignoring him would get her nowhere anyway. It was time to confront the beast.
“I heard it” she answered defiantly as if to say ’so!’ and took a strong physical stance facing Woody.
He looked her up and down. Brave little girl he thought. She stood there, legs apart, hands on hips, braced for action. Bigger, stronger, wiser men had crumbled in his presence. He admired her and that made his desire only stronger.
“We both heard it.”
Woody brought both of his hands together in front of him, twiddling the tips of his fingers against each other. Then he offered,
“Ask me.”
His voice was slightly croaky, like he had a sore throat and his accent fluctuated somewhat. Woody was remembering now. He was remembering quickly, re-learning at great pace. Once he began to hear words again, all the old sounds rushed back to his head. Words swirled through his brain. Words that he didn’t even realise he knew. But they were there alright. They were all there. The problem for Woody was that while his brain had found them, his voice was only just catching up to pronounce them. Sometimes, he uttered a word with perfect pitch, resonance and accent. Other times he struggled and sounded like a child or a foreigner.
“I what it is.” Woody slyly invited and smiled a broad proud, toothy smile.
“You what it is?” Daisy asked in a tone that punctuated the sentence with an unspoken ‘idiot!’
Woody stopped smiling and retraced the words he had just spoken. Then calmly, for he was in charge, he corrected himself before smiling once again.
“I KNOW what it is.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Daisy had spotted a weakness. Woody did not like sounding stupid. She could perhaps use this to her advantage. Fear had its uses and could keep you safe, but fear had its function and place. Sometimes it got in the way. It was of no use to her now. This was a time for courage, and Daisy would use anything at her disposal, no matter how tenuous. She gave Woody a look of disdain. It was a look that came from above. Daisy wanted him to feel as though he was being looked down upon by a clever girl, a girl, cleverer than he was. To some degree it worked.
“Ssstupid girl!” He hissed at her, but it was more a reflection of how she had made him feel.
“I KNOW WHAT IT IS!” he declared loudly and though curious, Daisy kept her cool and her sense of superiority.
“You know what exactly?” she asked with a half smirk on her face.
She could see that her attitude was getting to the creature. He stood up quite suddenly startling her, although she didn’t jump.
“The voice. The voice,” he answered irritably, “I know what it is” and then, as if to punctuate his sentence, she heard it whisper through the clearing once more.
“Daisy May.”
It was unsettling and the timing was not lost on Woody. He threw his head back and exploded into a villainous laugh. The thing seemed quite pleased with his power. But Daisy was not going to be driven back to fear. She bent down and picked up a big rock that barely fit into her small hand. Defiantly she stomped over the uneven ground towards the creature, wielding her weapon at shoulder height. Woody’s laughter descended to a chuckle and he actually backed away a little, rounding the head stone that he had earlier sat against, using it as a barrier between him and the advancing girl.
She stopped not five paces away, still holding her rock, threatening to throw it at the creature. They both knew it was an inadequate weapon, but Daisy wielded it with menace nonetheless. Woody stopped laughing and placed both hands on the grave stone which jutted out of the ground at hip height. He leaned on it as though it was a podium from where he might deliver some important speech. There was something about this one, he thought. She was a brave little girl alright and he couldn’t help but admire her courage.
“Shut up you idiot!” Daisy shouted at him angrily.
He had already stopped laughing but she told him to shut up nonetheless. Woody smiled and Daisy raised her rock, even more threateningly above her head.
“Tell me how to get out of here!” she suddenly demanded, then in her angriest voice to let him know that she meant business,
“TELL ME!”
Woody released his grip on the gravestone and straightened up, folding his arms instead. He looked around and invited her to do the same.
“Look around.” he told her waving his arm around in all directions. Daisy merely glanced with her eyes, furtively left and right afraid to take her eyes off Woody. He continued.
“There are plenty of ways to leave this place.” Then he urged her “LOOK, LOOK!”
Daisy heard a mix of sounds that seemed to be coming from all directions. There were creaking crunching noises, swishing crackles, movement and noise, everywhere. It was irresistible and she looked back over her shoulder.
It was incredible. All around her, the forest was moving. Trees began to bend and twist and pull apart. Gaps were appearing everywhere in the tree line. There must have been ten or more openings in the previously impenetrable Wood. Daisy May was astounded and Woody simply smiled. She spun her head back and looked at him. The thought that entered her mind at that precise moment was accurate. It was a trap. He wouldn’t let her go that easily? It had to be a trap. Woody waved his hand, gesturing grandly.
“You think you can leave this place? Go, away with you!”
He chuckled as the last word
left his lips. It was definitely a trap, she thought.
“It’s a trick,” Daisy declared, deciding there was no point in dodging the obvious. “You wouldn’t let me go that easy.”
“Let you go?” Woody laughed. “You think it’s that simple?” He burst out into full scale laughter.
“What are you on about?” Daisy asked annoyed and afraid. She hated that she was being kept in the dark still.
Woody stopped laughing quite suddenly. His face darkened and with it the light seemed to fade. The smile left his lips and he scowled at her.
“It’s not up to me.” He offered simply.
Daisy was getting angrier by the minute. She felt completely alone and trapped. Something had to be done. But she really didn’t know what that might be. All she knew for sure was that Woody was gaining the upper hand again. She couldn’t let that happen. It was time for action. Daisy bent down and picked up a second rock, checking left and right again as she did so for the nearest exit. She remained crouched for a moment, and then straightened up swinging her right arm behind her head as she did so.
“You are not going to...” Woody began, intending to finish, “…throw that at me” but before he could, that is precisely what Daisy did.
She flung the first stone with all of her might aiming for Woody’s head. He swerved to the side and the stone missed his left temple by inches. He couldn’t help himself but to follow its path, watching as it crashed into a grave stone ten feet behind him. The rock splintered to smithereens and the noise it made was quite incredible in the silence of the clearing. He was shocked but should have learned from their previous encounter not to take Daisy May Coppertop for granted. He turned back to face her just as the second rock came hurtling in his direction. He was too slow to react the second time and it pelted against his chin, knocking him clean off his feet.
