Darkly Wood

by Power, Max

  He lunged with tremendous speed, straight at Lionel’s throat. It was what those teeth were made for. The grip was ferocious, his teeth sinking deep into Lionel’s throat ripping out his larynx in one savage bite. Lionel was still alive, although unable to make a sound as he hit the floor. He was still alive, when Woody flicked up his filthy nail and sliced open his stomach. Lionel was still alive when Woody began feeding on his intestines. All the while, the sickly smell of chloroform filled the air around him, as the vapours rose from the soaked cotton and from the open bottle.

  For his part, Woody had no idea that he had just saved Daisy May. That was not his intention. He had been hiding, lying in wait in the space above the polystyrene ceiling tiles of the bathroom. It was a cramped space but it was warm and it was dark and Woody felt completely comfortable as he waited. When the dark of night had finally settled and the sounds of the people had faded, Woody had awoken in his hidey-hole. Lionel was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. After a little while, although for Lionel it was the longest and most horrendous time of his life, Woody finished with Lionel and stood upright again. His face was covered with blood.

  Lionel had felt his throat being ripped out and he couldn’t scream. He didn’t feel Woody, slice through his spinal cord, but he had done so and Lionel could not move. But although he couldn’t make a sound or move a muscle, for the few minutes he remained conscious while Woody fed on his innards, in his mind, Lionel Goja squirmed and wriggled and screamed for all he was worth, right to his very last breath. Woody did not notice. Woody didn’t care. He had more important unfinished business to deal with.

  CHAPTER FORTY FIVE - SEARCHING FOR THE TRUTH

  While Archie rang her mum, Daisy May ran her fingers across her book. When she first awoke, Daisy felt unsure about whether or not she had been dreaming. Although she was lying in a hospital bed with her dad by her side, Daisy initially found it hard to dismiss everything that had happened in Darkly Wood, even if it was all just in her head. Now that she had been awake for a bit, it seemed to make sense somehow. Her dad had been reading the stories from the book to her. She must have heard them and incorporated them into her subconscious mind. Somehow the stories must have merged into dreams. It seemed silly really, though oddly still quite real. She flicked through the pages. They were all there, the stories about Libby, Hattie, and Bobby Bunker, all of them. Her dad poked his head in through the door.

  “Your mum’s coming back up.” He told her in a voice without any specific emotion.

  “Great.” she answered. Daisy was dying to see her.

  “I just need to go to the bathroom.” Archie said and gave her a look that suggested he was asking for her approval.

  “Go on,” she instructed him, “I’m ok for two minutes!”

  “Back in a minute,” and he was gone.

  Daisy May continued to flick through the pages and stopped when she came to the story entitled ‘Benjamin Blood.’ So there was a story in the book after all. He was a figment of her imagination, a combination of her trauma, and what her father had read to her. She began to read while her father was gone and it started out pretty much as she remembered from what Benjamin had said. She laughed at the idea. ‘What Benjamin said?’ He couldn’t have ‘said’ anything. There was no Benjamin! The story was the same as she remembered from her dream and why not, Daisy thought; her father had read her the story.

  “I’m back!”

  She smiled at the sound of his voice. Now that he had reappeared Daisy May put the book down. It was good to have things back to normal, even if she was in hospital. Her nightmare had been so realistic it seemed as though she had really experienced everything that occurred while she was unconscious.

  It wasn’t long before her mum arrived and the room was filled with hugs and kisses of relief. Daisy could not remember ever getting so many hugs from Isabel. It was nice. There were several visits by her doctor and a nurse, checking on her recovery and the afternoon was a busy one for the exhausted girl. Eventually Daisy tired, and she started to drift off to sleep even as her parents spoke to her. She didn’t realise it, but sleep gradually snook up on her and she dozed off in mid-sentence. Her parents knew how tired she was. The doctor had told them that she would be like that for a while. They were just glad to have her back. Her mother kissed her and headed off and Archie vowed to hang on until she awoke to say good night before leaving.

  When Daisy eventually opened her eyes, it was late and Archie was fast asleep in the chair beside her bed. As if he had some magical sensor that alerted him when Daisy awoke, he woke up almost immediately. She told him that she was still very tired and made him promise to go home. He agreed, hugged and kissed her and departed with a promise to be back in to see her, bright and early the next day.

  As soon as he was gone Daisy felt lonely. She felt very strange, sad. Daisy missed Benjamin. He might have only been a character in the book that her dad had read to her, but he had kissed Daisy. She touched her lips and it felt like a memory and once more she felt an unexplainable sadness. Daisy picked up her book and flicked back to where she had left off. Much as she remembered, the story of Benjamin Blood swung along unchanged. Or at least it did right until the very last page. When she read the last page of the story, Daisy had to stop and re-read it again. The story was ending just as she remembered it almost word for word.

  The creature had caught the man who had escaped his grasp once before and he could barely contain his glee. He wanted to gloat. He took his long claw nail and drew it across John’s neck, severing his vital arteries, spurting bright red blood into the forest in a thick spray. But before he did, the beast took his revenge. He had never forgotten the fact that John had escaped and it rankled with him ever since.

  So creature of the forest slashed John Blood’s throat and let him bleed to death on the floor of Darkly Wood. Helpless and hopeless, knowing he had lost. But before he finished John off, the boy beast dragged the limp body of John’s son Benjamin into view. He held his face close to John’s so he could see it. In a moment dark enough to shrivel John’s heart, he clasped the boy’s face between both of his filthy hands. In a shocking, vile, repulsive motion, the creature flicked out his long purple tongue and very slowly licked Benjamin’s face from top to bottom. He tossed the unconscious boy aside, straddled John and returned his claw to his throat. All the while laughing, chortling, rocking with glee, the creature took his revenge and slashed John Blood’s terrified throat.

  It was just as she remembered, but then the last bit, the part that made her sit up straight in her bed, the final piece of the story that forced her to re-read it in disbelief, completely floored Daisy May;

  Having dispatched his intended victim, his blood lust satisfied, the completeness of his pleasure at achieving his revenge upon the man who had escaped his clutches, allowed another moment of carelessness into the beast’s life. Benjamin Blood was nothing to him other than a tool to get to his father. He squeezed him by the throat but got no pleasure from it. Dragging the boy through the Wood, holding his limp body by the neck, he made his way to the outer reaches of the forest. There he dumped the boy to die and be discovered, no doubt by some innocent passerby. He would act as a deterrent, a reminder to most to stay away. This was the boy creature’s domain and he chose who could and could not enter the depths of Darkly Wood.

  And so it was that the boy Benjamin Blood was discovered by a walker not thirty minutes after he was dumped by the creature. He was more dead than alive, but there was air in his lungs and blood still flowing in his veins. So he was taken to Wickby hospital where, despite their best efforts, doctors were unable to revive him from his coma. He remains there to this day, lying still and unconscious, a warning if ever there was one, to stay away from Darkly Wood.

  Daisy nearly fell out of her bed. It couldn’t be! Surely not? Daisy closed the book and looked at the cover. ‘Tales of Darkly Wood’ by J.S. Toner. Question after question came to her. How could John Blood have written this book
if his own story was in it? How could he have written of his sons hospitalisation if that occurred after his death? If what she had dreamed was real, if Benjamin was alive and in the very same hospital, then how could the book be written?

  Daisy May opened the book desperate for answers. She searched the pages again, then found and read ‘a note about the author.’ The note was short and it read;

  This book was written by my dear departed brother John Blood. It was his last work and remained unfinished until I discovered the draft in his bureau not long after his funeral. I completed this, the final draft for him in honour of his life and I dedicate this book to him and his only and much loved son. For John and Benjamin always in my thoughts, your dear brother Kyle.

  Daisy May literally threw the book onto the locker beside her bed. It was true! Or was it? Could it be? If it was true, then Benjamin was here, in this very hospital! She picked up the book again and re-read the note. It was hard to accept, but it was impossible to ignore the possibility and Daisy May threw back the covers from her bed. She swung her legs to the ground. The floor was cold. She stood up, still holding onto the bed. Daisy felt weak. It took her a few minutes to get comfortable on her feet again. The blood rushed through her legs and they felt like they belonged to someone else. She had terrible pins and needles and had to wait for them to subside before she went anywhere. There was a familiar footfall outside and Daisy knew the nurse was coming.

  Quickly, she pulled herself back under the covers and pretended to read. No sooner had she done so, than the nurse appeared. She checked that Daisy was alright and took her vitals, noting them in the chart. Daisy’s pulse was a little high and she asked her if she felt alright. Daisy told he that she was fine and then just as the nurse was about to leave, she asked,

  “Are there many coma patients in the hospital?”

  “That’s not an expression we use around here” the nurse corrected her.

  “You know what I mean,” Daisy replied in her sweetest voice, “are there any other’s like me...You know...” She didn’t need to elaborate.

  “Just the two of you,” the nurse explained half out the door, “actually just the one again now that you’re awake.”

  The words sent a shiver down her spine and Daisy tried to ask another question before the nurse left. She tried to ask two at once and got muddled,

  “Who is...where?” The question was wasted.

  “No more questions, now put that book away and get some rest, I will see you later” and with that she was gone before Daisy could ask another question.

  Daisy sat up again, a new determination taking over. As she sat on the edge of the bed she began to panic. Daisy remembered the terrible fear that Woody had instilled in her and she didn’t want her dream to be real. Again she thought that she was being ridiculous, but by the same token, there was a part of Daisy May that wanted the dream to be real. It was the part that mourned for Benjamin. Finally, Daisy could wait no longer and she stood up. She shuffled across the room as her legs began to work again.

  The room was cold and she only wore a thin night dress. There was a dressing gown hanging on the back of the door and Daisy May slowly removed it from its peg and swung it across her shoulders, tucking her arms in, feeling its weight and warmth immediately. Daisy tied the belt around her waist and returned to sit on the bed again for a moment. Even the small effort required to get her gown from the door felt exhausting. She needed to think. He could be anywhere and it was late. Not only that but she felt as weak as a kitten. It didn’t matter really. From the moment she had read about Benjamin being in Wickby Hospital, Daisy had to find out if it was true. Nothing made sense and that feeling was becoming all too familiar. Perhaps, she thought, she was dreaming now. Daisy pinched herself.

  “Ouch!” She moaned quite softly, resigned to the fact that she was fully awake. This was no dream. A part of her wished it was. Her throat was very dry, so Daisy picked up her beaker and took a swig of water. The water was cool and refreshing and it immediately gave her a little lift. It reminded her of how thirsty she had felt in the Wood and of drinking from the stream. Once more her dreams seemed more like memories.

  There was a muffled noise somewhere outside but she ignored it. Late or not, irrational as it might be, Daisy had to go. She had no idea what drove her, but she knew that if the book was right, then Benjamin was real and if he was real, then what had happened to her was not a dream. She had to know the truth. Daisy May Coppertop pulled herself up to her feet once more, calling on her last reserves of energy. If Benjamin was in Wickby hospital she had to find him. She had to know what was real and what wasn’t. She had to know the truth.

  CHAPTER FORTY SIX – OUT OF HIS DEPTH

  Sometimes, not often but just sometimes, Woody felt a little out of his depth. He never left Darkly Wood. At least he couldn’t remember ever leaving the Wood. No doubt he thought, there was a time in his past when he might have, but it was completely beyond him now.

  In fact, he had ventured out beyond the boundaries of the Wood many times, though previously only at night under the protective spell of the dark. Although Woody could not recall it now, he had spent a long time in the house that marked the end of Cranby village in the house of Jo-Jo Couchet. That night had been a particularly pleasing one for Woody but such was his existence, the memory had not stayed with him. Woody had no real sense of time but he did have a very strong sense of place. Wickby Hospital was certainly outside his comfort zone.

  He looked down at the mess he had made. Lionel was a stranger to him. He meant nothing to Woody. It felt odd to kill outside the forest. Something about it was wrong but he didn’t know what it was. Coming across this man was unplanned, unexpected, unwanted even. Woody was used to wanting his victims. There was always a pattern, always a preamble. Woody could always sense it when the time was near and then he would go and look for the ones he expected. There was logic to it. Desire always grew and ultimately, Woody satisfied the blood lust. But that took time. It came from something, grew into something. It was – something - and although Woody didn’t really know for sure what that was, he had inklings.

  Usually his victims were special. They were chosen. He allowed them to come into Darkly Wood. HE allowed them. HE chose them. They were chosen for a reason. It was their purity, their goodness, the cleanliness of soul and kindness of heart. Woody killed only the kind and the good. Well, there had been a few exceptions, but they came asking for it. They never felt right but in such circumstances it could not be helped.

  This one, this time, it felt wrong. There was something familiar in this one. He was like Woody somehow. There was a darkness that shadowed him and Woody would not have chosen to kill someone that shared his desire to express that darkness. But it couldn’t be helped. He got in the way. Maybe, Woody thought, he was just a little careless in this strange environment. He would have to be more careful now.

  There was a noise outside. It could be anyone or anything, so Woody had to be cautious. He really could do without any more distractions. With consummate ease, Woody picked Lionel up and brought him over to the window. He opened the window all the way with one hand and lowered the bloody body out with the other. Lionel was not light, but Woody might as well have been lowering a small cat out of the window. Lionel’s body dropped the short distance to the roof below and landed with a shallow thud. When he turned, Woody caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the sink. He was a sorry sight, all covered in blood.

  It had been a very long time since Woody had seen his own reflection and what he saw shocked him. He stepped closer to the mirror and studied his own face in the half light. His hair was a wild shock of a mess and it was matted with blood and dirt from the forest. He touched his sticky hair ever so gently. How odd to see himself again. Woody didn’t recognise the thing that looked back at him. Had he always looked so awful? The blood from his savage attack on Lionel distorted his appearance even more. He didn’t feel very savage at that moment despite what he had jus
t done. His reflection upset him.

  Woody touched the blood on his face and it smeared. He looked down. A leaky tap drip dripped into the sink and Woody touched the cold water drips. He had no recollection of a tap and he looked at it curiously. After trying to move it and get more water, eventually he came across the solution to make the water flow. Woody smiled at some ancient memory, before bending to put his mouth to the tap. He drank thirstily and it tasted odd. Then he cupped handfuls of water into his hands and washed his face. He had no idea when he had last washed, or what drove him to do so now. Woody thought for a moment and wondered if indeed he had ever washed. Maybe he had never had the need to do so before, all alone in the forest. Now it seemed like he needed to do it, but it certainly felt strange. When he looked back in the mirror, there was still a lot of blood on his skin so he repeated the exercise several times until his pale skin shone through.

  Again Woody studied his own features. He felt something peculiar, unfamiliar. It was sadness and his face changed. His deep set wide eyes narrowed and the veins that had been protruding on his forehead and temples receded. The dark purple colour of his lips softened to a ruby red and he looked younger, gentler. There was something more familiar now and he touched his face trying to remember. But he couldn’t. His face and head were marked with bruises and bumps.