L I L L Y

 

The moon tagged along behind her, illuminating Lilly’s way down the deserted rural road. She had the impression that the world she knew had vanished and now she was walking in a new place. It was a comforting thought: she could be whoever she wanted here, not Lilly the Missing Girl or Lilly the Giant, but Lilly the Explorer.

The night seemed too quiet, absent of singing frogs or the insects who made instruments of their own wings. Her heavy footsteps echoed. At one point the distracted moon got too far ahead of her, then backtracked to keep lighting her way.

“Thank you,” she said, glancing upward.

After what felt like many miles the road forked into two. Lilly wasn’t sure whether to follow the left tine, or the right. She stood there for several uncertain minutes, until a hawk sailed past—a feathered plane, gliding low.

“Going, going, gone!” it called in a chipper voice. “And we have a winner!”

The hawk flew above the right branch of the road, so Lilly went that way too. Soon she came to an underpass enshadowed by the bowed heads of a long stretch of trees. The moon tried to dip down and light the spaces between the leafy branches, but nonetheless Lilly found herself in near blackness. It felt safe beneath the trees, as if their entwined limbs were protective hands who wouldn’t let any more harm come to her.

When she emerged from their cover the lane turned silver and twisty, and no longer were there stretches of field alongside the byway. Her breathing became labored as she climbed a hill; from the top she stood in the berm and surveyed what lay ahead. The moon showed her endless treetops, and a perilously steep incline farther up the way.

Lilly couldn’t see any route that would bypass the incline, and she questioned if she should’ve taken the left-hand road rather than follow the hawk. She worried about the stress such a steep hill would put on her busy heart, having become more aware of certain things that had previously gone unnoticed, such as her inner workings. Once-silent organs were now conversant, tap-tapping inside her as if spelling out a message. She wasn’t sure what they were saying, but accepted it as a warning: she was growing too much.

She was running out of time.

Yet, she felt compelled to go onward. The moon beckoned and, like a wave in the ocean, she couldn’t resist its charms. She vowed to take the distant hill slowly, taking breaks if she got winded. Plodding along, she contemplated “the witch with no spells”. There were likely more residents in the Village of Wrong Things than when the poem was first written. If not a witch, someone else there might be able to help her, someone with unusual skills.

Now on a downward slope, with the incline looming ahead like the peak of a rollercoaster, a rumbling came up behind her—a roaring sound that fractured the silence. Abruptly the insects and frogs were in full voice too, as if the lull was the work of a remote control left on mute by mistake. Around their music came something more urgent and querulous, the thundering of something low to the ground. Lilly stumbled off the road and stood in the ditch, unsure what was coming. Something large, and moving fast.

Lights came up over the hill and she shielded her eyes, blinded by the broad swath of radiance. She still couldn’t tell what it was; her first guess was a UFO. The glare passed her and the hulking machine squealed to a stop. Now the moon explained: a truck with a big red cab, and a trailer bed bulging with immense logs. The window rolled down. A dim bulb popped on and a bearded-face appeared.

“Hallo, lass—are ya lost?”

“No,” she said, though the uncertainty in her voice had a flapping sound, like the moths drawn to her porchlight.

“Can I ask where you’re headed? I don’t encounter many folks in these parts.”

He sounded friendly, spoke with a lilt, and looked like Santa Claus in the decades before his hair whitened. Lilly wouldn’t be fooled: he might be hiding his true self behind that cheerful countenance. Yet, seeing how he was familiar with the nowhere through which they both traveled, he might have information.

“Can you tell me…. I’m heading for the Village of Wrong Things. Am I on the right road?”

He made a sound like ach and scratched his beard. “Maybe lass, maybe. I haven’t been there myself, but I know some ladies who likely know where to find it.”

His mention of “ladies” encouraged her; ladies wouldn’t lead her astray. “Can you tell me how to find these ladies then?”

He puffed out his cheeks and exhaled, eyeing a distant road only he could see. “It’s hard to give concise directions for traveling by foot. It’s faster by vehicle.”

“I know how to read maps,” Lilly said hopefully.

The light inside the cab got brighter as he pushed open the passenger door and started rummaging in the glove box. “Might have one from when I first went to the Forest. The ladies are near there, I’m heading that way now.”

The interior of his truck was decorated with bright fabrics and dangling doodads. Lilly stepped closer, intrigued by his collection of odd maps.

“Here, this one goes as far as the Forest.”

Lilly took the map from his outstretched hand and unfolded it. And unfolded it. And unfolded it until her arms were stretched wide.

“Not many can hold that map just so,” he said with approval.

A route had been highlighted in fluorescent yellow and it went around and around on itself, zigzagged, squiggled, backtracked. It looked impossibly long and Lilly’s hope started to wane.

“It’s too far,” she said tearfully. “I’ll never get there.”

“As I said, it’s much faster by vehicle.”

In spite of what had happened before, Lilly knew what she had to do. She clambered into the truck and stuffed the map into the compartment with the others—and then reached out and pulled the passenger door closed.

“I need you to give me a ride,” she demanded. Remembering her manners, she added, “Please.”

“Oh lass, I don’t think—”

“I do think! You’re the only one who can help me.”

He peered at her intently, as if she was a convoluted map, and the friendly smile fell from his face. What replaced it wasn’t mean, but sad. He shook his head, tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry for your troubles, lass. No one should do you like that.” Lilly pressed her back to the door, confounded by what he saw in her. “Do you know what I’m carrying here,

on the back of my truck?”

“Logs?”

“Right. And if I took them anywhere else they’d be turned into paper or furniture. But I’m a professional thief, that’s the truth. I stole these logs under cover of darkness, and I’m taking them to the Forest of All.”

“What’s that?”

“Perhaps…it may be in the vicinity of the village you’re looking for. You see, the ladies I mentioned live in Town Town, which is on the other side of the forest. But the Forest is their domain, just as the mountains are on the other side of Town. I bring these mighty timbers to the Forest of All—these trees were slaughtered, they cry for justice. And the ladies plant them. It sounds impossible, I know—but they’ll be trees again. The most magnificent trees you’ve ever seen.”

Lilly believed him. She felt the truth of his words in her bones. “These ladies will know where the village is, I’m sure of it!”

“You’re too young to—”

“It’ll take too long to walk!” She prayed on the word please.

The burly man nodded. “I see your predicament. Okay. I’ll drop my load at the forest, and drive you on to Town Town.” He released the brakes and resumed his journey. For the second time that day, she was in a stranger’s truck. “And lass, on my word I’ll get you safely to the ladies. And make sure no one else hurts you.”

How did he know? Did she look different—had Stop left a mark on her that other people could recognize? She cocked her head and considered him. He was wearing a plaid shirt and blue jeans, there was nothing extraordinary about his appearance, and yet…. Something told her he wasn’t what he seemed, but in a good way. In an amazing way she didn’t quite understand.

To trust him she had to trust herself, and her instincts were feeding her a sense of certainty. A yes. A this is what I need to do.