The Fairy Woods

(696 words)

The Fairy Woods

Deep in the woods live the fairies and their friends. I know that and try to stay away, but a few years back, distraught from work, I stumbled onto the forest path and apparently took a left fork when I should have gone right. I only noticed when the shadows grew dark and the trees began to arch their branches to the tumble of evening winds. Then I stopped and kicked myself for being such a fool, for it is not wise to linger in the woods when the fairy breezes start up.

I drank the last of my bottle of water, pushed the empty plastic jug back in my pocket, and attempted to retrace my steps, but I knew already that I was lost. I'd known it instantly the moment I'd finally awakened from my absentminded stroll. As I peered about, I could see I was deep inside the forest, far, far away from my quiet cottage. I doubted I'd make it back home before night dropped her slumber cloak.

Yet, I had no choice but to attempt to find my way out. What was the alternative but to linger in danger? So I ran with legs like pistons, thundering down that path. The shadows played games with my feet, twisting the roots of the trees. Bushes sent out low branches to catch at my socks. I fell time and again, but I didn't give up. I couldn't admit defeat. I ran all the faster.

My throat was parched from fear and thirst. Sweat dripped down my back, -- from my effort and from my fear, but I kept running down that path. Then suddenly a wee, brown hare jumped out of the bushes. It stood in the way, although I was still jogging toward it. The hare sat frozen regardless of my approach.

"Get out of my way," I yelled at the hare, but still it did not flee.

Then as I realized the creature felt no fear of me, I was, myself, stunned still.

It was too strange an action not to be frightened. A hare by its nature would flee from a man, but this one unquestionably did not. Instead it stood up on its hindquarters brave as you please, and its eyes stared boldly into mine.

"What do you want?" I cried out, backing away.

"You've missed the path," said the hare with a high-pitched voice. "Turn back. It is not safe this way."

Perhaps I should have questioned the fellow. The hare must have been magical to speak in that way, but in the darkness of shadow with only the moon overhead, my courage was as dry as my throat.

I turned about and ran from the hare. I sprinted as if wolves had found me and were threatening my ankles and calves. I sped until I came to another fork in the woods. There sat a small gray mouse with sad, black eyes, scratching its whiskers and twitching its nose.

"You must take the other fork," said the mouse. "The other path will take you home, my friend."

I halted barely a moment, just enough to pant breath in my body, then without a word to that mouse, I twisted about and fled down the path where it had pointed. Not more than a mile later, I began to see things that I had observed in my earlier walk - the old owl in its hole, the funny misshapen branch that had reminded me of a fishing pole. And then I came to the place where I'd carved my name and my wife's on the bark of a tall pine.

The happiness of relief washed over me. I rushed out of that wood eager to get home to my darling wife, but just as I saw my dear cottage, I stopped and stared back into the woods. I saw no mouse, no hare, no fairies, but I felt their eyes, and I knew they were there.

"Thank you," I called. "Thank you for your help!"

Many a day and a year have passed since that shadowy night of fear, but always now when I walk by the forest, I take off my cap and say, "God's blessing be on you, my friends."

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