“I’ve got nothing else planned, sure”, he replied.
I sighed in relief. At least I wouldn’t be alone the next time I was there. I was hoping that he would experience the same thing I did, so that I could still stay true to the hope that I wasn’t crazy. We split the bill and walked back outside. I asked Toby if he could stay with me up until we went out to the orchard together. I couldn’t stand being alone again, even if it was only for a couple of hours. He agreed, and followed me home.
The moment he stepped out of his car, Toby remarked about how dreary and weak the blossoms on the trees looked. He also noted the cold air that had suddenly curled around him. Compared to the rest of town, my homestead was glacier freezing. We went in my house and spent the rest of the day as if we weren’t about to go into an absolutely terrifying endeavor. I sprawled out on my couch, while he eased himself into the recliner next to it. I turned on my television, and we flicked through channels before landing on a basketball game. Images of Los Angeles flashed across the screen, reminding me of a place I would rather be than here.
As the game waned to an end and the sun began to sink behind the clouds, my fear began to mount. I realized just how crazy all of this was. I was about to go into an uncertain and unknowable future, and drag my friend into it. Whatever it was that was in those orchards, it wasn’t good. And without a doubt, we would be no match for it unarmed. So, I hastily pushed into my room and unlocked the gun locker that lay under my bed. I pulled out a shotgun and two pistols. I wanted to be extra safe, so I grabbed the axe I kept in there as well.
When I stepped back into the living room, Toby stood with a shocked look on his face. “What are those for?” he asked.
“I want to be prepared”, I replied.
“For what? Just what do you expect to encounter out there?”
“I don’t know what to expect. That’s why I want to be prepared.”
He sighed. “Alright, but I call the axe.”
The Central Valley was submerged in complete darkness when we stepped off my front porch, armed like inadequate militiamen. I flashed a flashlight in front of me, aiming it back and forth in front of our sight constantly. I began to shake violently as we stepped into the orchards. Other than the intense cold of the night, my fear was beginning to grab a hold of me and shake me. The shotgun shuddered in my hands as I aimed it in no particular direction. Fallen twigs and premature almonds crunched under our boots as we ventured deeper into the darkness.
For a long time, nothing happened. We just pushed forward into the neatly aligned rows of trees, inching farther and farther away from the world we knew. The lights from inside my neighbor’s house faded away slowly as we grew apart from it. The deeper we got, it seemed, the stronger the wind became. It came in soft rustles at first, gently breathing against the back of my neck, bringing my hair on end. Soon, however, it was as if we were in a wind tunnel. Rough and untamed, razor-like winds sliced through my hair and across my body, as if nature were trying to make me turn back.
I should’ve listened.
Toby tried to say something over the wind, but I could not hear him. I staggered to a nearby tree and wrapped my arms around its base, hoping to brave the winds. Toby did the same, latching himself to a sturdy branch. Then, as if it had never occurred at all, the wind stopped. The world went quiet. I looked back to my friend, who was trying to make sense of where we had gone. I did the same.
It seemed that we had strayed into a part of the orchards I had never been in. It certainly didn’t look like those I was used to. In fact, it didn’t even seem like we were on earth anymore. The usually brown soil had formed into a sticky red clay. The trees were no longer kissed by blossoms; rather, they were barren and shapeless. The air went from frigid and biting to boiling and dense. I shed my coat and wrapped it around my waist, though even with having done that, I was still just as hot. I began to breathe heavily as I let go of the tree I held and trudged through the clay. Behind me, I heard Toby doing the same.
That’s when I heard giggling. The type that I heard in my room when I was reduced to tears. I turned back to Toby, my eyes wide with fear. To further my fear, so were his.
“Do you hear that?” he asked me.
“Yeah”, I whispered.
The two of us surveyed the area, looking around at the alien surface we now stood on. The giggling intensified. We seemed to have entered some sort of clearing. The clay took a hold of our boots as we moved forward into the middle. My head started to hurt again. From the looks of it, Toby was feeling it too.
“I am surprised you made it this far”, a soft and smooth voice said.
We stopped altogether. With our breath shaking, we looked to each other, communing to try and see if we both just heard that. Without hesitation, I pointed at the orchards away from the clearing. “We need to get out of here”, I said.
We rushed for the opening, kicking up chunks of clay. As we reached it, roots burst from the ground, forming a natural, makeshift wall. We stopped in our tracks, observing in horror as the other openings were also blocked by the roots. The giggling sounded once more as we backed away.
“You are not getting away that easily.”
The light of the moon above us began to darken, until a vicious blood red color washed over us. In the middle of the clearing, a mist rose from the ground. The thin white substance swirled around our ankles before returning to its point of origin. Like snakes, it wrapped around something invisible. Soon, it began to take on a form. Thin legs were created first, followed by a dress, leading up to a small waist and curving about to create a torso. Arms followed suit, and to complete the transformation, a head with luminous hair. Before us stood a young woman.
She stepped lightly onto the floor, her feather light body bobbing as she walked. Her dress was in tatters and soiled at the bottom, stained by red clay. Her skin was as pale as the moon once was. She had crystal clear blue eyes, but those were perhaps the most menacing thing about her. On her face, she wore a wry smile, one that hid underlying intentions. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, bouncing like waves. Without a word, she walked to us, the red moon giving her an ominous glow.
We found ourselves unable to move. Not figuratively, but physically. My legs would not budge from their locked position, and my arms were as steady as rock. I couldn’t even move my fingers in order to ease them onto the trigger. All that I could do was watch and breathe. In the corner of my eye, I saw Toby struggling to regain control, and he was winning. It seemed like this was a battle of the mind more than one of the body. Following my friend’s example, I too began to struggle.
Her face twisted in frustration as she strained to keep our minds at bay. We pushed back with all of our force, sweating from the exertion. Suddenly, I found myself able to move my arm again. I fought back harder, regaining control of my other arm. I aimed the gun at the woman. She did not look happy. I wasn’t going to take any chances. I shot. I heard her scream in pain, as if she were made of organic matter. I regained control of my entire body, as did Toby. Seizing the moment, we turned our attention to the wall behind us. Toby hacked at it with the axe, and I shot frantically at it. Soon, there was a small hole big enough for us to crawl through. I shoved my friend in first, pushing him through the hole. He took a hold of my hands and pulled me out. We ran down the neat, straight line of the odd orchards.
Behind us, I heard her yell in anger. I felt the earth begin to rumble, and I tripped. I regained my footing and ran just as a tree fell where I was moments ago. As if the trees were under her control, they began to bend to her will. Branches stooped to our path, trying to stop us. We ducked under them and moved on. At the most inopportune of times, the wind started up again. We fought against it, now defending ourselves from two forces of nature.
Soon, the clay began to give way to the deep soil I knew and loved. Above me, the night began to give way to day, which made me wonder just how long we were there. Her screams of anger began to become more and more distant, and t
he trees were more resilient to her wiles. I looked behind me, to make sure that Toby was still with me, and to my relief, he was. The morning sun began to warm us in its glow, and the horror that we faced was now behind us. We no longer heard her, and the trees were as stiff and lifeless as they always were. Seeing that it was safe, we slowed down, hunching over to catch our breath.
“Are you okay?” I asked Toby, coughing and gasping.
“Yeah,” he breathed back, “You?”
“I feel fine.”
“Good.”
After we had finally reclaimed our lost breath, we returned to my house, bewildered and mortified. We leaned our weapons against the wall. We didn’t want to bother with putting them away.
“What are we going to do?” Toby asked, sitting in the chair.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, we have to do something.”
“What can we do?”
“I don’t know. Maybe we can get a priest out there?”
“To do what?”
“An exorcism.”
I stopped to think for a moment. As crazy as that sounded, something inside me told me we needed to do it. I was tired of being afraid. I wanted to end this. And if we needed to bring a priest in to do that, then so be it.
There were a multitude of churches around us, so all we needed to do was pick one and ask for help. We drove into the parking lot of our nearby place of worship, and to our luck, found a priest just outside. He was talking to an older man dressed in nice clothes, most likely discussing matters of the church. He and the man departed by the time we reached him. The father regarded us warmly, taking time to shake both of our hands before asking us our business. We asked to speak to him privately. He led us into the building, and we congregated at the pews.
“Is there anything I can help you gentlemen with?” the priest asked, plopping himself next to us.
“We need an exorcism performed”, Toby replied almost instantly. We had decided he would do most of the talking.
The father's face drooped in concern.
“Where?” he asked.
“In the orchards near here.”
“Why do you need one?”
“Please, hear us out, father,” I butted in. I explained the entire story from beginning to end, beginning from my curiosity and ending at our experience from last night.
After I had finished, the priest took in a deep breath. “It sounds to me like a demon lives in those orchards.”
“Can you get it out?” I asked. I feared that he wouldn’t be able to.
After a moment of introspection, he finally responded. “It will be a challenge, but yes. I will meet you at the orchards tonight.”
We thanked the priest, Father Robert, hundreds of times. He shook our hands once more, then bade us good day. As he turned away, he placed the sign of the cross over himself. He folded his hands and bent his head low, kneeling at the base of the altar. He was praying the Our Father as we left the building. I let out a deep sigh as I got in the car. Even though we had the Lord on our side, I was still unsure. Things can always go wrong. I pushed those thoughts out of my head as I gripped the wheel.
As promised, Father Robert was waiting for us as we reached the outskirts of the orchards. We were armed as we had been the night before, and it was clear the priest was armed himself. A bottle of holy water was clasped to his belt, and a cross was held delicately in his hand. He did not question us about our weaponry. Perhaps he was too afraid to ask. Exchanging only a small amount of words, we began our walk into the orchards, hoping to come out victorious in our mission. I took point, my flashlight guiding the way.
Something was different the moment we stepped in. There was no moon. There was no chill in the air as there had been in the past. And, perhaps most suspiciously, even after near an hour of walking, there was no wind. The only things present were darkness, silence, and a dreadful heat. My hands became slippery as I combated with my flashlight to keep it in my hands.
She used this to her advantage.
Even with my flashlight trained on it, I hadn’t seen the tree come alive and strike Father Robert in the middle of his back. He howled in pain and fell to the ground. We scooped him up and held him upright. He clutched his cross and pushed it out in front of him. He stepped around me and began to call to the demon.
“By the name of the Father, The Son, and the Holy…” the priest was unable to finish his speech, as he was seized by his shoulders and lifted up. I shined the light on him to see him suspended in the air, held by two hand-like branches. He kept trying to yell out blessings as he was lifted higher into the air. The branches brought him well above the trees, and we could no longer see him. We could only hear his terrified screams as the leaves rustled above us. Toby and I had no option other than to run.
We pounded down the orchards, our weapons dropped and our lives at stake. I could only hear my heart pounding in my ears and my breath heaving my chest up and down. I blinked out the sweat that blotted my eyes. My vision was blurry. My mouth was dry. My heart was out of my chest. Suddenly, I felt my foot land on something in front of it. I had been tripped up by a root that had lifted itself up. I hovered above the ground for a few moments, landing on my chest and slamming my nose against the soil. I turned on my back.
Toby was running towards me. I called to him, but I was too late to warn him. He made the same mistake I did, and was caught by the upright root. He landed straight on his back. Unlike mine, his outcome was different. As he landed, a small fissure opened up in the soil. From it, a massive vine slithered out. It wrapped itself around his arm, and began to pull him in. I fumbled frantically for any part of him I could grab, and gripped hard onto his leg. I pulled with all my might, trying to keep my friend alive. Nature, however, was stronger. His boot slipped out of my hand, and he was sucked into the ground. I’m not lying when I say this: the earth literally ate Toby. I crawled to the spot that had now sealed up, banging my hands on it, trying to reopen its hungry lips and pry my friend out, but it was to no avail.
Then, as if none of this happened, everything went quiet. I no longer heard Father Robert screaming for his life. I no longer heard the trees creaking as they bent to her will. I only heard giggling. This time, I was furious. I pushed myself up and looked around me, anger in my heart and stone in my words. “Where are you?” I yelled, no longer afraid of the consequences.
In an instant, she was in front of me. I fell back and landed on my back as she descended upon me. She no longer had her wry smile. Her eyes held revenge. “Why are you doing this?” I yelled, my fear gone despite the image in front of me.
The woman stared at me for a few moments, as if she were formulating an explanation. Then, she leaned in close, close enough that I could feel her breath, taste her anger. “Because of men like you”, she whispered.
“What do you mean men like me?” I demanded.
She pointed to our surroundings. “Do you see these orchards? They were once mine. I was raised amongst these orchards. I fell in love in these orchards. I married in these orchards. I raised my children in these orchards as I had been. And, I lost everything in these orchards, at the hands of men like you.”
“What. Do. You. Mean?!” I said again.
Her voice raised beyond my level. “Men who do what you do! Men who look at the natural beauty of this place and only see a lane for commerce! Men who destroy and replant year after year, depleting the soil and killing the land slowly.”
“I’ve never been a part of that!” I countered.
She leaned closer. “Oh, but you have. You work for the men who do such deeds. And for that, you are just as responsible.” She wrapped her hands around my neck and lifted me up with an unexpected mammoth strength. She lifted me into the air, until I choked above her. “But I’m not going to kill you,” she continued, “I’m going to keep you alive. So you can tell all who will listen about my wrath. Then, and only then will I leave you alone. And when you are done telling all you can about m
e, never come back.” She snaked her fingers up to my eyes and forced them shut.
I bolted up from my bed. My heart was racing and I was covered in sweat. I frantically looked about my room. The morning light was shining through my window. I shoved the shutters up, looking out at the peaceful orchards that stood as still as statues. I sighed. Could this all have been a dream? I reached for my phone and dialed Toby’s number. I was greeted with her smooth and soft voice. “It wasn’t a dream,” she said, “And I meant every word.” And with that, the phone went out of service, replaced by a dial tone.
I dropped my phone on the floor and stepped away from it, as if it were poison. I paced about my home, trying to gather my thoughts. This meant that all of the past night’s experiences had happened. Father Robert and Toby were dead, consumed by the orchards. And I was left, only to tell my story. I sat at my dining room table and put some paper in front of me. This document is that of my final words.
Do not go into the orchards that dot Central California’s landscape. On the outside they are beautiful, but inside of them lies a demon who is not disposed to sharing. She is strong and unpredictable. No amount of weaponry or faith can save you. Those orchards are hers, and no one else’s. If you do decide to step into those forsaken orchards, I advise you to do one thing beforehand - write your will. Because you will not be walking out of those orchards alive.
THE END.
A STORM CAME AND SO DID THEY by George Strasburg
We knew the storm was coming. Everything warned us; the television, the internet, and even the radio, which I never listen to but just happened to stop in a backwoods gas station for beer and the clerk seemed deaf or at least capable of hiding his concern with a bored expression. I made a quip that glazed over him.
“Selling lots of bread and milk today?”
“Meh.”
“Well, I want the necessities,” I said as I plopped my 24-pack on the counter.
That was the extent of our interaction, but his face remained with me. He looked like an orangutan had run off with a raccoon. He had red hair and freckles around his eyes. A little button nose that showed more of his cavernous nostrils than most people would want to see. His eyes were shiny as if there was a sadness behind his boredom. As if he knew more about that storm, as if he knew it was pointless to say anything more to me than he did.
9 Tales Told in the Dark 16 Page 8
