C.S. CAVANAGH

David and Paula were upstairs readying themselves for a night out. Their daughter, Gemma, was downstairs sitting on the end of the sofa, not saying a word. Gemma's adoptive parents had always been overprotective and overbearing. Most TV programmes were a no-no. Parties were a hell no. And going anywhere on her own was an absolutely no way. So she was somewhat mortified, but not entirely surprised, when one of her classmates turned up to babysit her. They sat on opposite sides of the sofa, Gemma on one end, arms crossed, eyes avoiding everything but the floor, her classmate, Libby, the other end, a smirk skewing her lips. To add insult to injury, Libby had even walked here on her own to babysit. Gemma would never be allowed to do that!

 

David and Paula left the house in a flurry of don't worry, we won't be back late and there's plenty of food in the fridge and you have our number if anything happens, we'll call later to make sure everything is OK. Most of it was aimed at Libby.

 

As soon as David and Paula were out of the house, Libby burst out laughing. 'I knew it was going to be you I was babysitting!' She sat looking at Gemma for a moment, waiting for a reply. When it was clear she wouldn't comply, Libby said, 'Oh come on, don't be like that,' and hit her playfully with a cushion.

 

'Quit it!' Gemma swung her arm in defence.

 

Libby sighed. 'I won't tell anyone at school about this if that's what you're worried about. Well, not many people anyway.'

 

Gemma continued to sulk, so Libby headed off to the kitchen to inspect the goodies left for them in the fridge. Leftover cooked chicken, ham, cake, Coke... 'Where's the booze?' Libby called. That comment shocked Gemma to life and she shot into the kitchen. Libby smiled to herself.

 

'Don't you dare!'

 

'Oh come on, Gemma, I promise not to tell anyone about this babysitting lark, but let's at least have a little fun while we're here.'

 

'No!'

 

'One drink is not going to hurt.'

 

'Forget it! There is no way you are touching my parents' alcohol and that is final.'

 

Six and a half minutes later, Gemma and Libby were sitting on the window seat in Gemma's bedroom sipping on too much vodka and not enough Coke. 'This tastes like it's got bleach in it,' said Gemma.

 

'You get used to the taste,' replied Libby, throwing her hair back over her shoulder, the seasoned practitioner of forcing oneself to like something you clearly find revolting. 'You've just got to keep at it.'

 

Gemma looked out the window of the old cottage, past the garden, to the swaying audience of trees, all watching Gemma try her first alcoholic drink, cheering her on with their branches waving in the air, their fingers permanently leafless.

 

'How deep do those woods go?' Libby asked, following Gemma's gaze.

 

'Not sure exactly. You can get a good walk in them, my parents have said.'

 

'Your parents? You never go in?'

 

'I'm not allowed.'

 

'On your own?'

 

'At all. They never let me.'

 

'Really? But you live, like, literally next to it! I'd go in anyway if it was me, stuff what my parents said!' Gemma ignored the comment and took another gulp of vodka and Coke with a grimace. Libby looked at Gemma for a moment. 'Your parents are a bit weird, aren't they?'

 

'No, they're not actually!' Gemma replied with force. 'They're just thinking about me, that's all.'

 

'Thinking about you how? You're literally never allowed to do anything. I'm the same age as you and I'm babysitting you!'

 

Gemma looked out of the window again at the fan club of trees waving their arms, seemingly applauding her first real act of rebellion – having a secret alcoholic drink stolen from her parents' drinks cabinet. A large wall lined the garden. It had been built by her parents when she was small, although Gemma didn't remember it ever not being there. One of the bricks in the middle of the wall had Gemma's name engraved on it. 'My parents aren't weird. They are just protecting me because something bad happened to me in the woods once.'

 

'If that's true, then why the hell are you still living here?'

 

'I get ill if I'm ever away from the house too long, even on holiday. My parents told me, years ago when I was small, they tried to move. They put this house on the market and we moved to my grandparents' house – I think my dad found the extra hands helpful because my mum was out working – but I got ill. Really ill, they said. Luckily, this house hadn't been sold yet, so they took it off the market, we moved back and I got better.'

 

'And all that from being away from a house? Your family is definitely weird. Did you know there are stories about those woods?'

 

'Oh no, don't start telling me ghost stories!'

 

'No, honestly! There's a book about it in the library and everything. It tells the different versions of the story and all the myths around the woods.'

 

'Really? What do the stories say?'

 

'I've not read the book. I've seen it though, flicked through it. The cover looks dead creepy. My mum told me about some of the stories, she's read about all the myths. The book is called The Heart of Myrth because that's what all the stories are about. The woods were called Myrth years ago, God knows when, probably, like, a hundred years ago or something. But that woods has got a heart.'

 

'How can woods have a heart?'

 

'I don't know but it's what the stories say. My mum said it's different depending on which version you read. Some say it's a jewel or something, but others say it's an actual person. Most of them go something like this... There's a bunch of people that live in those woods,' Libby began, turning her face theatrically towards the direction of the trees.

 

'Stop it, Libby!' Gemma warned. 'I don't want to be told there might be creepy people in there, whether it's real or not.'

 

'Just listen... There's a bunch of people living in there...but it doesn't say they are evil or anything, OK? I don't think so anyway... So the stories go that they had this new heart, but then something happened to it, it disappeared! I reckon it was stolen if you ask me. Or kidnapped, if it's a person. Some say the heart is sacred to the people of the woods, like the crown jewels, others say it's something they kill and sacrifice. Which is a bit gross if it is a person, don't you think? But whatever they wanted to do to it, it was meant to keep the woods alive, like it was the actual beating heart of the woods, giving it life, and now it's gone and that's why the leaves never grow, because the woods are dying without the heart. Or they're already dead, not too sure about that bit. But they've been looking for this heart ever since, the people that live there, and sometimes they come out of the woods, searching...'

 

'OK,' Gemma interrupted, 'that's enough!'

 

'I bet they come out at night,' Libby continued in a mock scary voice, eyes widening for effect, 'all gnarly and dead like the trees...'

 

'The leaves never grow because the trees are diseased, actually. My dad told me,' corrected Gemma.

 

'You keep telling yourself that.' Libby's face suddenly lit up with a new idea. 'Fancy a walk in them now?'

 

'Forget it! It'll be getting dark soon. Plus, my parents will flip if they know we've been out of the house – well, if I've been out of the house anyway, you can probably do as you please.'

 

'How will they know? Certainly not from me.'

 

'I dunno...it'll still be getting dark soon.'

 

'Not for a while, it won't. Come on, live a little.'

 

Libby jumped up from the window seat and made her way downstairs. Gemma's eyes followed after her. She closed them briefly and sighed in exasperation. Her parents would be angry if they found out she had gone into the woods. No, not angry, disappointed. That alternative of emotions offered up to make you feel even worse than if you had made someone angry. I'm not angry, I'm just disappointed. And, yeah, they'd probably be angry as well. They weren't horrible parents – if anything, they could be accused of being too much the opposite – but they did have some very strict rules and expected them to be followed.

 

She turned towards the window again, to the garden and beyond. The trees were closer now, the garden somehow smaller. Or at least that's how it felt. Perhaps it was the evening dimness creeping closer, but the trees seemed to be leaning towards the house, thin wooden fingers reaching out. She opened the window and air eased gently into the bedroom, a balmy breeze, like the waning day was getting warmer, not cooler. Her platinum hair teased back from her face, her clear-water eyes showed the lowering sun. Maybe they could go for a walk in the woods. It wouldn't do any harm as long as her parents never found out. It was right next to the house. And she was fourteen, not four!

 

Libby reappeared in the doorway. 'Wow, you look amazing with the sun shining on you! All glowy.' Then, when Gemma didn't immediately move, 'You coming or not?'

 

The garden was a large square of grass, surrounded by a tall wall, rendering it entirely enclosed by brick. The wall opposite the house, acting as a barrier between the garden and the woods, housed a wood panelled door in its centre, with dark blue paint peeling off. Directly above this door sat the brick which bore Gemma's engraved name. Despite the wall having been built by her parents, the door looked much older, even older than the house.

 

'That door's locked,' Gemma called from the kitchen doorway. Libby turned the handle. The door swung open.

 

'Not right now it isn't,' Libby called back with a wicked smile and escaped through the opening.

 

When Gemma reached the door, she examined it for a moment, a frown breaking her paper-smooth face. This door was always locked, and her parents had hidden the key, but after examining it she could find no lock, no keyhole. Not even a bolt.

 

'Come on then!' Libby called from the edge of the trees, about another length of the garden away.

 

Libby was right about these trees, thought Gemma entering the woods, they did look dead, not just leafless. They were dry and empty, as if they would collapse to dust from anything more than a light touch. Trunks loomed tall and jagged above them, thin branches swaying in the wind despite their clear fragility. The lack of leaves meant it wasn't as dark in the woods as Gemma had feared. She looked back towards the house. What had felt ten minutes previously warm and comforting now seemed cold and harsh. They hadn't left any lights on in the house which made it look back at her with dark, soulless eyes, and also meant that it would be harder to find their way home should the darkness hit sooner than they anticipated.

 

The classmates walked on together. Shadows cut stripes and crosses along the ground. It was so absent of life it was simply a carpet of mud, not even dead leaves littered the ground, no random blades of grass, no weeds. All around them stood nothing more than random pillars of tree trunks headed with oversized twigs, too scattered and ununiform to see too far ahead.

 

'What was the bad thing that happened to you in here?' asked Libby.

 

'Someone tried to kidnap me,' Gemma replied matter-of-factly.

 

'Oh my God!'

 

'It's fine. It was years ago when I was really small, I don't remember it.'

 

'But that's awful! Doesn't it make you nervous being in here again?'

 

'I doubt whoever did it is still hanging around in here waiting for a second chance.'

 

'Yeah but, I'll be honest, this is way creepier than I thought it would be.'

 

'I kind of like it here. It's calming. Although there is something kind of sad about it.'

 

'There's something kind of dead about it. I don't think I've ever seen woods this empty. Where are all the plants? The weeds?'

 

They walked on some more, Gemma's eyes roving the dark ground, trying to pin-point anything that wasn't dirt or bark. 'There's something growing!' She pointed to a lonely red toadstool.

 

'Great. Fungus.'

 

'And there's something else. Grass.' Gemma's fingers stroked the emerald blades like a pet. They found the further they walked into the woods, the more it blossomed. 'See? They are nice woods after all. Not dead.'

 

'Well you would have known that if you had normal parents that actually let you do normal things and have a life,' said Libby, cuttingly. 'Sorry,' she added, feeling guilty. She decided she liked Gemma, despite her weirdness.

 

But Gemma was right, the woods were blooming now. Not simply harbouring plants, it was turning into a luscious paradise. Colour danced around them like a circus despite the waning daylight.

 

'This is...beautiful.' Libby looked around in awe. 'It's like a freaking garden centre or something. Clearly the disease hasn't reached this part of the woods.'

 

It had turned into a medley of bluebells, lily-of-the-valley, wild garlic, honeysuckle. Deadly nightshade, foxglove, red campion, flowers that shouldn't even be out at this time of year. Ivy circled trees like botanical staircases. Many more varieties of plants and flowers, familiar and unfamiliar to the girls, that all looked slightly oversized and over-bright. Ghost orchid, wood calamint, flowers so rare they certainly would have grabbed the attention of the girls had they known what they were. Ferns swayed a dance to an unfelt breeze. Libby decided that if Heaven was a real place, this is what it would look like.

 

'Is there someone standing over there?' asked Libby quietly, squinting through the trees.

 

Gemma looked towards where Libby was facing. It did look like a figure was watching them. It wasn't moving, it was standing back in the shadow of a tree. 'They're staring at us, Libby.'

 

'What do we do? Run?'

 

'It won't be that easy with all these plants everywhere, I reckon.'

 

'Hang on,' whispered Libby, edging slowly towards the direction of the silent figure. 'Hello?'

 

'I thought the people in the woods story was made up,' hissed Gemma.

 

Libby moved further forward, activating the torch on her phone, shining it in the direction of the suspected observer. Gemma, too, switched on the torch on her phone. Libby started to laugh. 'It's just the way the ivy looks against the tree, there's no one there!' The girls giggled, as much out of relief than anything else. Libby's giggle slowed, then stopped. 'Shh, did you hear that?'

 

'Hear what? What now?'

 

They stood still, heads bowed as if in prayer, listening to the sounds of the woods and anything else that could be heard. Rustling of leaves, creaking of thick stem against bark, and then, 'There it is again.' The sound appeared to be coming from behind them, but it wasn't so easy to tell in these woods.

 

'Gemma..!'

 

Gemma blanched. 'It's my parents!'

 

'Oh God, what time is it?' Libby asked in horror. She glanced at her phone, the light illuminating her worried features, the still activated torch illuminating the grass tickling her ankles. 'Half eleven! How can it be that late already! It's not even that dark.'

 

'It's hard to tell under these trees,' reasoned Gemma.

 

'Yes, but we've not been out for very long!' said Libby. Gemma seemed uncharacteristically cool to her. 'How are you so calm all of a sudden? You're about to get a roasting from your parents when they find you. And so will I! I hope they still pay me...'

 

'Just keep going.'

 

'We can't! We have to go back, we're already in trouble!'

 

'Then it won't make any difference either way. Why go back right now? They don't know we've heard them. Just keep moving.'

 

Libby couldn't believe what she was hearing. Gemma, who she didn't think had ever broken a rule in her life until tonight, seemed to be rebelling before her very eyes. And she liked it. 'Ah, stuff the money. It wasn't that much anyway.'

 

With a giggle which could have been attributed to either age or vodka, they ran ahead. The more they ran, the thicker the foliage. Long gone were the dead twigs of the earlier trees, they had been replaced by strong, thick, healthy branches. Taller and bushier plants crowded behind them, blocking the way back and willing them on. It didn't seem as dark now, if that was possible, despite the increased leafiness overhead; there was an aura about the place, that was how Libby would describe it, as if a light was slowly being switched on. She looked at Gemma, who was positively beaming. The light seemed to be coming from her.

 

'Gemma, what's happening to you? You've gone all...light.'

 

Gemma stopped and looked at herself, her hands. Libby was right, she was glowing, almost sparkling. When Libby shined the torch directly on her, the glow intensified. The light wasn't coming from her, the remaining moonlight filtering through the trees, the light coming from the phone torches, all of it was attracted to her, being refracted, giving their surroundings the unearthly glow.

 

'Gemma!' The sound of her parents was much closer now.

 

'Turn your torch off,' suggested Libby, as she did the same. Gemma still sparkled, but the effect was lessened without the added light from the torches. 'Keep going.'

 

The woods went on forever, they were able to travel much further than expected. Either that or they were going around in circles. The air was full of their heavy breathing and the sound of rustling through the now prevalent vegetation. But the sounds were coming from more than the two girls. 'Run, Gemma! I think they're right behind us!'

 

And they were behind them, right behind them. And at their sides. And in front. The girls slowed to a halt, looking about. There were definitely more than two adults scattered around them. Who were these people? The girls huddled together, suddenly much younger than their fourteen years.

 

'It's the people of the woods,' whimpered Libby.

 

Plants swayed, ferns licked at Libby's legs, making them tickle. And there was something else, something different. The tickling at her legs changed to light scratches. She looked down. Through the ferns, brambles were now sprouting, growing as fast as everything else had. The plant life all over was thicker than ever. Vines like ropes hung from trees, roses with thorny stems intertwined with the others plants, growing higher than Libby ever thought possible.

 

'Gemma what are you doing?' asked a shocked Libby, as she noticed Gemma moving away from her and towards the new people standing close by. 'Don't go near them!'

 

Feeling compelled, Gemma edged towards the creatures. Like a dimmer switch being turned up, the space around them gently illuminated. These people looked just like her, tall with fair hair, and an unearthly glow. Surely she belonged to them.

 

'Gemma! Stop!' It was David and Paula arriving, crashing into each other as they came to a halt, clearly out of breath. Both girls jumped in shocked. The circle of light surrounding the strange creatures swelled and became denser, giving it an ominous edge.

 

'Gemma, listen to me,' said Paula, careful to keep her voice level. 'They're not what you think they are. Please walk back to us.'

 

Gemma looked with uncertainty at the tall humanoids glowing around her. What did her mum mean? They looked just like people underneath it all. She loved David and Paula, and they had always been open with her about being adopted, it was never a secret, but there was always a curiosity there for her: who were her real parents? David and Paula had always said they didn't know.

 

'I'm one of these. Just trust me, mum. Can't you see it? Can't you feel it?'

 

'Gemma, look at me. You need to come here. We have to get you out of these woods right now. They are going to hurt you.'

 

Even as Paula was talking, Gemma's light was dimming with doubt. She looked towards Libby, who was now standing with Gemma's adoptive parents, and whose face was horror-struck. 'Gemma, listen to your parents and walk towards us, for God's sake.'

 

Gemma looked back to see what had scared Libby so. Faces – changed faces – were so close to her she could feel breath on her own face. Eyes turned to huge gaping holes bore down on her. Mouths began to open so wide they could easily swallow her whole.

 

Sharp thorny vines began to twist around Gemma's feet, slowly slithering towards her ankles. Gemma screamed. The breath of the creatures was so close and heavy it was moistening the top of Gemma's head. She couldn't move her feet, but flung her arms out blindly trying to defend herself, eyes tight shut. Something took a hold of her arm and she was yanked violently to one side, her immobile feet making her fall to the floor.

 

'Gemma! Get up!' It was David, trying to pull her from the throng of bodies with mouths so wide the chins were down to their bellies. But she couldn't move. The thorny vines were digging ever deeper into her feet and ankles, poking easily into her socks, and making their way through her shoes. But they didn't quite have a decent hold of her legs. With movement that shredded the skin on everything below her shins, she moved her legs in a pumping action till her feet were bare of socks and shoes, and she was able to break free.

 

Dragged along the woodland floor by David, she struggled to her feet, twigs and thorns stabbing blades into her bare feet. She ignored the pain as the four of them ran and ran, nothing could be worse than what was still waiting behind them. Even as they made their way through the woods, the new plants around them, only hours old, were wilting and dying. The smell of decay was horrendous.

 

Back in the garden, the door slammed shut behind them, the lock once again materialised and in place. It took a long time to convince Libby that the people of the woods couldn't get to them here. After paying her double babysitting fees for her discretion, David drove her home. Left alone, Paula hugged her daughter protectively. There would be many questions to come and she had to be strong and rational for her daughter. But she couldn't hide the sadness in her eyes. Gemma could never venture near those woods again, those things would always be there waiting, but neither could she ever fully leave.

 

Paula swallowed and tried to begin an explanation. 'Have you heard of something called the Heart of Myrth?'

 

© C.S. Cavanagh 2021