I lean over, hands on knees, and struggle to catch my breath. Last as always - the others are probably long gone. Typical. I stand up straight, still panting, and wince at the god-awful stitch in my side. It’s so freaking dark, I just know I’m gonna get lost trying to find my way out of here. Stupid trees blocking the moonlight. I kick one hard and howl with pain as my toes crack.
I hear a giggle. Did someone just run past me? I hope the lads come back to find me, I think I might have turned around. Maybe we shouldn’t have egged that car. It seemed like a good idea at the time. The stuck up bitch who owns it would never think to follow us through the woods. Jesus, I hope I’m going the right way.
Probably stupid of us to run into the woods, knowing they’re going to cut them down in a few days. It was sad that kid died after the branch fell but it was an accident, why cut down the whole forest over it? Probably some council official got a brown envelope in his back pocket from a developer, and signed the order to cut the whole forest down. He might say it’s a health and safety thing, but we’ll all know who cha-chinged when the land gets turned into a car-park. Dave reckons he heard the sex shop was okayed but no way are we that lucky. Fucking holy joes protesting always ruining it for the rest of us.
Maybe losing the woods is for the best. We’re getting a bit old for all the messing about and hiding in the trees like kids. Next month, I’ll be old enough to get charged if a copper catches me with another spray can so it’s a bit of a relief to have an excuse to stop. That cock-eyed cop with the accent has it in for me, I swear.
I hope I’m walking in a straight line, I’ll find my way out eventually if I don’t circle. I pass an old oak tree with a deep slice in the bark of the trunk, that’ll be Dave and his pen knife again. He thinks he’s a big man with his knife, used to be the quiet one before he bought that blunt piece of crap. He’s a show-off now, flicking it open whenever Sharon is around. Wanker, he knows I had my eye on her first. Who cares if I never said anything? I don’t know why I touch the incision. Gross. I pull my fingers away, sticky with whatever’s oozing out of that tree. Looks like silver blood.
Getting cold now, too quiet, isn’t there supposed to be animals at night? Badgers or something? Owls even? The trees look sort of creepy, like giants with lots of arms. The branches dip low but I don’t feel a strong breeze, just a chill in the air. I clear my throat, just to make a noise. It echoes around the trees until I’m almost convinced someone is out there, mocking me. Probably Dave, it’d be just like him. I’ll show him. I’m not scared. Much.
“Very funny, Dave. Hil-fucking-arious. Now stop acting like a twat and help me figure out how to get out of here.”
Nothing. He’s always been a wanker, that Dave. Feels like I’ve been walking around for hours but I’m still in the middle of a hundred poxy trees. Is that the same oak tree? Looks like the same cut on the trunk. Dave’s getting imaginative now, running ahead of me marking trees so I’ll think I’m lost.
“Way to be obvious, man.”
My words echo for a long time, until they sound almost like a little girl. Is that supposed to happen? Whatever, I have to hurry, get home before Mam gets home from work. She’ll flip her lid if she finds out I was hanging out with Dave and all.
What’s that noise? Maybe I should slow down, I keep tripping over roots I don’t even see. Can’t see the wood for trees. What’s that even mean?
I must be seeing things, I have to be seeing things. Is that a girl? A hot one, no less. Haha, Dave, you’re missing out.
“Alright there, love?”
She smiles at me, beckons me, in her white dress, one strap falling down her shoulder. I hope my mouth didn’t just drop open. I step towards her and it’s like the trees have moved out of my way because I don’t trip up once.
“What’s your name?” she says. Funny, ‘cos I didn’t see her lips moving.
“M . . . Michael.” I barely get my own name out, how lame is that?
She smiles again, puts her hand on my chest and lowers her eyes, all coy like. Up yours, Dave.
She’s not as pretty up close but who cares, she’s wearing a slip of a thing on a cold night. She’s well up for it.
“Who are you?” I ask, delighted I didn’t stutter.
“Deirdre,” she says, her voice like a whisper floating through me.
“Nice name.” Yeah, right. “So, where you from?”
“Here.”
“What, like the woods?”
She nods and laughs, a nice tinkling sound that doesn’t echo. Great, she’s cuckoo. Does that mean I shouldn’t get my leg over?
I’m trying to think of something else to say when she pushes herself against me, her face close to mine. Actually, she isn’t good looking at all now – won’t be telling the lads that. She presses her mouth against mine and pushes me until my back is against a tree. Alrighty then.
I grab her backside and pull her against me but she feels funny. Doesn’t feel like skin. I open my eyes and see a wooden monster before me. Skin dried up like bark, her tongue slips between my lips and feels like a twig poking around my mouth. What the fuck?
I’m panicking now because she won’t let go. Her hand, or whatever, is pressed against my chest. I can feel something sharp pierce into my skin, like her nails are growing into me. I try to look down but her tongue is growing inside me – at the back of my throat I can feel it. Moving, living, choking me. Jesus, help me.
I’m struggling, tears streaming but she won’t let go and all I feel is pain. She’s eating me, melding into me, pushing me into that tree while I feel pinpricks of pain all over me. My face feels wet and all of a sudden she’s pushing me away from her. Releasing me, setting me free. Except I’m not free. The tree behind me is growing around me, the trunk gathers, encasing me. The tree is swallowing me and as she pulls away, she licks my face – the wounds she’s inflicted. Instead of blood, her lips are covered in silvery juice. She swallows it and her skin changes slowly. Less dry. Less wooden. She sucks my chin and I try to scream but there’s something in my throat. Something hard. I can’t move but she can. She steps backwards and the trees seem to separate, letting the moon shine on her. She turns back into the beautiful, skimpily-dressed girl I first saw. Please be dreaming.
She steps away but the tree is still growing around me until I can’t see. My eyes are gone now, I see what the tree sees. I am the tree. She smiles at me and places her hand against my trunk.
“Thank you for taking my place before they cut us down,” she says, a tear rolling down her cheek. She leaves and I try to follow but my roots are deep in the earth. I stand there for seconds, minutes, hours, days. Light then dark. Light then dark.
Dave and the others come back for me but they seem feeble and tiny. Their voices echo in the hollowness of the forest.
“Maybe he ran away,” Dave says, flicking his knife open and cutting my trunk. I scream with pain and rage but they hear nothing. My branches sway and Dave looks up, fear flickering across his face. “Come on, we better go. Don’t want to be here when they start cutting these fuckers down.”
They leave and I see no way out. Please don’t let it hurt. But it does.