The Evil Within the Woods

by Kevin J. Fitzgerald

  His jaws pumped furiously, gnawing the remains of a pretty red bow that had been attached to “Dad’s” present. He tried to turn the bow into a mush that could easily be swallowed. His eyes half closed. A dying log snapped in the fireplace nearby, remnants of last night’s family shmoor party (to which Paladin had not been invited). He heard the satisfied trills of birds drifting down the chimney. He imagined them perched atop the bricks; huddled together enjoying what warmth still escaped from below into the cold air of winter morn. The sound reminded Paladin of so many fresh mornings he had enjoyed while at Tanglewood. He also recalled a story the Father told once of a bird that had gotten into the house when the family was away (on something he called “vay-kashun”). Apparently, the bird got into the house through the chimney. The family received quite a surprise upon returning home!

  Paladin rose to his hind feet and cleaned himself. He wet his paws and worked them across his cheeks, pulling his ears down one at a time, and cleaning them inside and out. The house would be buzzing with activity soon, and he wanted to look his finest—even for Bear. He stretched one of his hind legs out in front and licked it methodically, polishing patiently. He practiced this routine multiple times a day, and he could do it without thinking. He fell into a rhythm. When he was quite finished, he put his two front paws out in front for a long stretch, and yawned. Then he straightened, ready.

  Time to head upstairs for a quick nap, he thought.

  He managed his way up the long flight of stairs, pausing every so often to catch his breath. The last three months of this type of living (being hand-fed and petted most of the day) had resulted in one terribly out-of-shape bunny. The stairs were really the only ‘true’ exercise he got nowadays. He looked back and felt a swooning sense of vertigo in his haunches. Paladin hated heights; always had. He even hated being held by the Son until quite recently. At first, Paladin would just bolt from the Son. Lately, however, he had found that resting within the Son’s arms was relaxing, not unlike the way a human might feel upon crawling into bed after a long, hard day. It was a feeling of surrender to utter comfort. It took time for Paladin to accept that neither the Father nor Son meant any harm to him, but only good. That was when he was able to surrender to, and enjoy the blessings of, the relationship. So it is with all great relationships. Love grows and deepens.

  Paladin moved silently down the upstairs hall again—past the room with the cold linoleum floor (the bathroom), past the long narrow room with many colored skins hanging up high (this was a closet), and underneath the skylight that—

  Bang!—a loud sound from below.

  Paladin froze.

  He dropped to the ground, and swayed back and forth. He stamped loudly upon the carpet, his eyes wide. This reaction is well-practiced amongst rabbits, but was merely an echo of the once finely-tuned reflexes Paladin possessed in the wild. Without thinking, he turned and ran directly into the hallway wall with a loud thud. A dazed moment or two later, he picked himself up and shook his head. Feeling rather foolish – and all being quiet from below – Paladin crept to the edge of the hallway landing and peered through the banister rails. He saw there, looking as though an undersized elephant had escaped from the local zoo and barged into the house – Bear. She stood at the edge of the sitting room, just inside the doorway that led to the room where all the food was kept. The loud “bang” had obviously been her immense dog-door slamming shut in the kitchen. Paladin released his pent-up breath and leaned against one of the banister rails. He watched as Bear ignorantly shook the clinging snow from her back, insensitively letting it fall and create a wet mess all around her; a mess that Rosita the housekeeper would have to clean up later. Paladin sneered at how the dog’s large pink tongue lolled out of her open mouth.

  It makes her look so stupid, Paladin sighed.

  Bear turned and trotted back inside the kitchen, as though her mission were complete. There followed the unpleasant slurping sounds of the huge dog at the water bowl—the result of which would be dozens of lukewarm drool-puddles on the tile floor that Rosita would tend to.

  Disgusting, Paladin thought. He often had the unpleasant experience of becoming personally familiar with these little ‘gifts’ left throughout the house by Bear. He cringed, almost feeling her slimy drool upon his paws now. In light of his recent fright, he chuckled. His heartbeat resumed its normal pace, and he lifted his head to move away from the hallway railing.

  That was when he heard a faint noise, and stopped. His ears went up instinctively. The noise was strange—faraway, and muted as though by distance. It was a scuffling sort of noise, like someone searching through old papers. It seemed arbitrary at first. But the more Paladin listened, it seemed repetitive and deliberate—desperate even. Paladin’s breath quickened once again. He rose onto his hind legs, his nose working rapidly. He looked this way and that to discern just where the sound came from. He glanced at the banister railing he had just left. This time, the familiar bars sent a sickening sensation through him; a dark sense of foreboding, like precognition. The tall bars cast long shadows across his face. The scratching sound grew and seemed to invade his ears! Paladin shrank from the banister rail; trying, in fact, to flee from the feeling now gripping him—a stifling, suffocating feeling.

  Where had it come from?

  It landed upon him as suddenly and strongly as if a physical thing had opened one of the hallway doors and leapt into the passage. Paladin backed away until he was pressed against the wall. He flattened his ears onto his back and scuffled his paws, growling the way rabbits will do when angry or cornered. Looking through the banister bars, Paladin felt – not just thought, but felt – what a “caged” animal must feel. Not a domesticated pet, but an animal that has been captured and held against its will; consigned to an existence of steel and fear. Paladin sat, unmoving and terrified, but not knowing why.

  The strange sound went on, chills scraping his spine.

  There was no mistaking it was an intentional sound, as if someone was trapped and trying to escape. Or if someone was outside the house and trying to . . . Paladin froze.

  Trying to get in, he thought.

  He realized the sound came from above. Paladin looked up at the small, dome-shaped skylight in the ceiling. At once, the noise stopped. But not before Paladin saw something move against the pale, grey light of morning outside. He didn’t actually see it—the light threw a shadow upon the opposite wall. There he saw – or at least he thought he saw, looming for one brief moment – a shape like a huge hand reaching out for him. Then it was gone, leaving Paladin to wonder if it had been there at all.

  It was some time before the icy fear that slipped around Paladin’s neck left and he felt comfortable enough to venture from his place of security against the hallway wall.

  The shape he had seen was a dark, fluttering shape.

  The shape of a huge, black bird.

  CHAPTER 11

  “The Cage-Box”

  By later that morning, Paladin had quite forgotten the bizarre incident in the upstairs hallway. The strange fear that had gripped him was swept up in the jubilant blur of Christmas morning. Christmas was a lovely time! Singing, paper ripping, laughing, storytelling. All accented by wonderful aromas: breakfast sausage, mulled wine, cooking turkey, stuffing, fresh-brewed coffee, cinnamon buns (Paladin liked this last one especially). There was plenty of packaging debris for Paladin to ramble through and nibble on. That was if Bear wasn’t reclining upon it like a giant walrus on an ice floe (at these times, Paladin would disappear behind a piece of furniture and rip up bits of carpet with his strong teeth, in frustration. He didn’t know why he indulged in this therapeutic practice, but it always made him feel better!). Once or twice throughout the day, Paladin had even found himself rolling amidst the wrapping paper—a sign that bunnies are very happy indeed! Or going on a romp, tearing across the carpet in bursts of energy, leaping joyously through the air, twirling the way rabbits will when at play. To a small bunny whose sense of time is far different f
rom yours or mine, the day seemed to go on forever. It finally culminated in that quiet sense of suspension that descends upon a house at holidays; a feeling that resembles how the air feels after a violent thunderstorm—a serene time.

  One of the highlights of the morning came when Joshua, the Son, opened one of his presents in particular: a brand new digital camera. You should have seen Joshua’s reaction! His eyes flew open wide and his chin dropped comically. His hands drew back in what might have appeared like disgust. But this was because he was genuinely shocked. He lifted the camera carefully, turning it over in his hands, examining every inch of the gleaming black and chrome instrument. He studied its workings, forgetting about every other present he received that morning in light of this one long-anticipated and wished-for gift. It was a high-def action cam, complete with a bike-mount, memory card, and waterproof case. It could fit in the palm of his hand! Joshua was elated, and quickly set about testing its features.

  “See, Paladin,” Joshua said, leaning in close to the rabbit.

  Paladin regarded the event with very little interest from where he lay stretched upon the carpet amidst piles of paper and ribbon. His belly was full, and he ground his teeth approvingly.

  Can I eat it? he thought, and sniffed at the camera. The one thing he noticed was the blinking red light on the front of the camera.

  It reminded him of something…

  Paladin recoiled at the camera’s smell of new plastic. He shook his head and folded his front paws beneath him, closing his eyes. This is a resting bunny’s polite way of saying “Go away.”

  Joshua laughed. “That’s okay,” he said, and stroked Paladin’s fur. Paladin flopped onto his side and began to doze, satisfied. “Merry Christmas, Paladin,” Joshua whispered, and was up in a flash.

  Joshua spent the rest of the morning experimenting with the camera, documenting the family’s Christmas. He particularly enjoyed shooting surprise videos of the family when they least expected it (an action that earned him a scolding or two—particularly from a very high-strung Rosita!).

  Later that afternoon, Paladin’s curiosity got the better of him when the family gathered around the elahs “cage-box,” laughing and pointing. Paladin got up, had a nice stretch and a quick bath, and hopped over to where they were. He received quite a fright when he saw they were looking in the “cage-box” at themselves!

  The elahs “cage-box” was one thing about life in the mansion that truly concerned Paladin at first. From his lapine perspective, it seemed to him that – at times – the elahs grew weary of their own lives and instead opened a large, rectangular “cage” that sat upon a stand to watch other, smaller, elahs living out their lives inside. He noticed they usually engaged in this bizarre ritual at night, particularly after meals. They would often sit for hours and hours doing this; laughing, pointing—even crying at times! Paladin simply could not believe how many of the elahs lived inside the tiny cage. So many of them! And they were so small—most of them smaller than himself! Whenever he observed this unusual behavior, the rabbit would marvel at how sad and tragic it seemed: that the elahs were content to watch other elahs live out their lives instead of continuing to live their own. He also noted that the “window” for seeing into the caged peoples’ world was opened by a strange rectangular device covered with a lot of small buttons. This device would often fall between the cushions on the sofa, causing the family to search for it. Late one night, Paladin received quite a scare when – as he dozed before the “cage-box” – the window that looked into the elahs living there suddenly burst into strange, loud, blue-white, snow-looking stuff that sent him scampering from the room and up the nearby stairs. Yes, this rabbit, formerly of the ruins of Tanglewood warrene, found this particular aspect of the elahs world quite confusing; even disturbing.

  By now, you have probably realized that what Paladin thought of as the “cage-box” was nothing more than a television set.

  Paladin crept toward the television set, amazed to see the elahs were looking in at themselves! He sniffed, raising himself up and down on his front legs nervously. Something warm in the air tickled and pulled at his fur. Images shuffled by on the screen, and Paladin noticed there was also another rabbit inside the cage-box—a young nuad like himself!

  In fact, very much like himself!

  Paladin stared. A few more confused moments later, Paladin realized the rabbit inside the “cage-box” was himself!

  Paladin felt afraid, and embarrassed, and awestruck all at once. His eyes narrowed, his nose worked methodically, and his head tilted in deep concentration. He traveled to that lonely – and sometimes frustrating – place in the mind where we go when we feel we have come close to the edge of understanding something, only to realize the final explanation eludes us. Paladin crept right up to the cage-box itself, eyes wide, virtually hypnotized, when he accidentally touched the glowing screen with his nose. A loud crack of static electricity sent a shock through him. Paladin jumped back rapidly, licking his nose. He tried to appear as if what had just happened hadn’t surprised him, but didn’t do such a good job. Laughter broke from the elahs family sitting on the couch behind him.

  “You okay?” Joshua said, and picked Paladin up. He cradled Paladin upon his lap on the couch and stroked his fur. “It’s all right,” Joshua smiled, seeming to sense the rabbit’s nerves. Paladin slowly began to smile himself, though still slightly uncertain. He looked back and forth between the Son and the elahs “cage-box”. In doing so, his eyes landed on the strange silver instrument Joshua had been pointing around the room all morning. It rested upon the arm of the couch nearby, in the foreground. As the images of the morning flashed on the television screen behind it, something happened in Paladin’s mind.

  His thoughts were disjointed at first—the same way one might haltingly make progress in assembling a puzzle by only working from a picture. Then – as more synapses fired – his thoughts occurred faster and smoother. Paladin stared back and forth between Joshua’s camera and the cage-box until – finally – he understood. Somehow, the silver instrument the Son had been given was able to capture not real people, but images of real people, and replay them in the cage-box!

  There weren’t real people living in the cage-box after all—they were pictures!

  I realize that all of this may sound trivial and silly to us, but we must understand that – to a young rabbit like Paladin – this whole concept was completely foreign. It seemed nothing short of magical or miraculous! And, as much of our story takes place in that region of ‘overlap’ between the chendrith and human worlds, I include it here as an example of how the chendrith-mind must process things differently. They do not share the same frame-of-reference as you and I.

  Paladin looked into the cage-box once more, and smiled. He stood to his feet on the Son’s lap. The reality of seeing himself for the very first time began to sink in. He knew from seeing other rabbits back in the wild what he surely must have resembled, but he had never actually seen himself before. I wish this was a memory we could preserve somehow and bottle-up to dip back into from time to time—perhaps when we are feeling low or discouraged. Alas; it is all but lost in the wealth of memories we accumulate over our long lives. But it was a tremendous moment for the rabbit! Paladin stared at the image of himself in the cage-box with wonder. And, throughout the rest of his days spent inside the mansion, Paladin now observed the cage-box with something that was close to reverence or respect.

  The rest of the day passed slowly, dreamily almost, marked by random peaks of activity and deep valleys of lethargy when everyone disappeared after their own pursuits. During those times, the rabbit would nap under the soft glow of the Christmas tree, only to be stirred once more as everyone gathered together again for another round of festivities. It was truly one of the best days of Paladin’s entire life. Later that night, as he snuggled safely within the warm shredded-paper bedding of his cage in the Son’s room, he gazed out the window at the clear, blue night, staring up at the huge face of the
dupan outside. A new snow was starting to fall, a fire blazed in the small hearth nearby, and familiar voices echoed through the large mansion. From somewhere deep inside, there welled up within the rabbit an overwhelming sense of peace and contentment. As he quietly drifted off to sleep, his teeth grinding slower and slower, he finally was at rest—no longer troubled or haunted by memories of his ma or da. Instead, he relished in his new life, and hoped that nothing would ever separate him from the Son, this wonderful one who had found him.

  CHAPTER 12

  “An Unexpected Visit”

  Joshua stood in the snow, oblivious to the cold. He was interested in one thing and one thing only: taking videos of . . . everything. Each time he looked in a new direction, whatever his gaze landed upon became the most interesting thing he had ever seen—the trees, the sky, the gardens, the near-frozen pond. Despite the familial obligations of Christmas day, Joshua had been able to make his way outside, and already progressed to the riding stables in back of the house. He absolutely loved the new camera. The images were crisp and clean, and did not shake when he moved the camera around quickly—the way a true action-cam should behave! The only thing he was not crazy about was the fish-eye lens. But that could be corrected with proper editing software, he thought, and turned the camera toward the nearby Prahmist Mountains. The sun lingered between two peaks, hanging just below a dark line of clouds overhead. It looked like the pupil of some great, unblinking eye staring down on the world.

  A sound from behind made him turn.

  A long white car crunched through the layer of undisturbed snow upon the driveway. White powder flew up behind it like confectioner’s sugar. The car looked like a bleached camouflaged tank. It’s fine, polished surface dazzled against the brilliant background of snow. Joshua paused. The sound of the car seemed enhanced and distorted all at once, the way sounds sometimes will in a snowy environment. He immediately found this to be a much more interesting subject to film than the mountains, and pointed the camera readily to document its approach.