Man of Green, Page 2

strange new sound. It was as if the trees themselves were moving, a crackling of branches and a rustling of leaves. My gaze was drawn to the opposite side of the stream.

  There was a man there. It was an incredibly peculiar sight. He was immaculately dressed, wearing a dark three piece suit, incredibly clean despite the forest. My own clothes were dirty and torn from my journey. He was dressed all in black apart from the bright green tie. His hair neatly slicked back. It was his eyes that drew my attention, however. They were a brilliant deep green like tree moss in the morning light. They seemed to be glowing.

  I clenched the book tight against my chest. My legs were shaking. But something about him was calming me down. His eyes maybe.

  “It's OK there, my love. I'm not the sort to bite,” he grinned, revealing a beautiful bright smile. He had a kind face and a kind smile. And again that voice rolled over me and calmed my nerves. “Well what's that in your arms there?” his smile never faltered. He pointed to the book in my arms. His movement was fluid, his arms swaying. There was something strange about his legs though. He seemed to only move from the waist up.

  “It's just my book mister,” I replied, “I got it for my birthday.”

  “Delightful!” he exclaimed, “Full of little tales about magical beings I am sure,” he gave a knowing chuckle. “Yes. I do believe I have seen that book before.” He scratched his chin but kept that kind smile, “What's your name, my love?”

  “Elizabeth!”

  The voice was not my own. I turned around, squinting through the trees, trying to discern where the voice had come from. It sounded like someone was calling me. With my attention away from the man I noticed the sound or branches cracking returning. It was louder now, as if the whole forest was moving.

  I turned back to the man. Still standing there, smiling away. But yes, he was a little closer now, closer to the stream.

  Who was this man? What was he? Questions whirled in my mind, but the emerald eyes calmed my anxiety and I let them go. Every aspect of this man gave off an aura of kindness. The air was growing thick and warm. The smell of the willow became intoxicating. I would be safe here in this clearing.

  “So, my lovely Elizabeth, would you care for some tea? I live not very far from here and I have some company who would love to meet you,” his voice washed over me, warm and inviting. I would indeed have liked some tea at that moment.

  “Elizabeth!” That cry came again, fainter now as it tried to push through the haze. There was something about the voice that I recognised.

  “I'm sorry mister, but I think someone is calling for me.” I looked behind me and this time the sound was joined with that of splashing water. As my gaze returned to the man I was startled. Now he shared my side of the stream. And yet, he was not wet. Surely he must have passed through the water, but his suit remained dry. It was here that I wondered where his feet were. Yes the grass was untamed and obscured his lower half yet he seemed to disappear into the very earth. Was this real? I asked myself. Am I dreaming, still nestled beneath the tree by the road, waiting for... someone? But I was sure now. This was no man that stood before me.

  “But Elizabeth, my love, who would be calling for you? Come now, out from under that old tree. It's not far, my lovely, and there'll be scones! Oh yes! With cream and strawberry jam! And you'll like our friends. We have a lot of them.” His energy was intoxicating. The glee pulsated from his being. All that I wanted in the world was to join him and his guests for tea and scones.

  It will be delightful, said his eyes.

  It will be wonderful, said his smile.

  I found myself giving my own silly grin. But there was this nagging feeling in the back of my mind. There was something I was supposed to be doing. No, someone I was supped to meet.

  “Elizabeth!” The voice cried out. I could hear it clearer now. Male, deep, a voice I had always known. And it sounded desperate.

  “I'm afraid not mister...” I began to say, slowly making my way backwards under the willow. I must have tripped on a root. I fell, sprawled onto my back, book flying out from my grip.

  And the sound came again, louder now. I sat up as quickly as I could. Silence.

  “Oh my poor lovely Elizabeth, you've muddied your dress. What will our guests say now?”

  A new smell came over me. One of ancient wood and rotting vegetation. I turned to my left and there he was, just outside of the willows embrace. So close now. The stink was coming from him, overpowering the willow.

  My eyes started at his non-feet, moving upwards to his wooden legs, his swaying arms, and his gleeful grin and finally resting at his emerald green eyes. They were different now. Gone were the kind eyes that had ensnared me before. These eyes were wild, screaming in my head, demanding me to do what their owner wanted

  “Well then Elizabeth, my darling, my sweet, my love,” his voice still honey but the madness of the man was starting to shine through, “Let me help you up. We'll get you clean and ready for our guests. Oh yes, they will like you very much.”

  He offered his hand though not quite crossing the threshold of the tree. And to my horror I found myself ready to accept his touch.

  I reached behind me instead. Felt warm bark beneath my hand. The sound of bells rang through my mind. I gripped, pulling myself upwards. It was in the success of reaching my feet that I happened to look into the mirror. What I saw frightened me to my very soul.

  There was the familiar blonde haired, ten year old girl in the blue dress that I had come to know. But behind her! Oh God! Behind her!

  A nightmarish amalgamation of flesh and wood now occupied the clearing. Leaves and vines protruded from joints where joints shouldn't be. Archaic runes and letters were carved into skin and bark alike. But it was the face I remember the most. A human face, stretched over the flat wood beneath, permanently frozen in a horrific facade of joy. The grin, now toothless, gave way to a pit of darkness. And the eyes! Whirlwinds of glowing green, trying to pull my soul from my body.

  A voice of thunder emanated behind me, “Well now my lovely, this just will not do.”

  I ran! I burst from the willow and bolted towards what I prayed was the way home. For a moment I thought my flight would be unhindered but the sound came. It was intense now. It sounded as if the whole forest was crashing around me. And a roar of oak joined it piercing my ears. The ground shook beneath my fleeing feet. Barely I kept my pace, finally reaching the edge of the clearing. I had no hope of finding the path back with only my fear strangled screams to assist me. The forest was darker now, the trees trying to bear down on me, to trap me. Each branch that scratched my face or snagged my dress caused a new pang of fear spurning me on from the monstrous fury that chased me. Faces appeared in the bark of the trees, faces of children. Their faces contorted to pain and sorrow. My lungs were on fire as I ducked and weaved my way past hands that tried to catch me.

  Then I collided with something. Thrown back into the dirt, I felt small compared to the looming forest. It was so dark now. So much so that I could not see the shadow standing over my tiny body. And all was quiet.

  “Elizabeth?” a voice swept over me. I shielded my face, futile though it was against whatever onslaught was coming. But it was coal and sweat I smelled. With a hint of whisky. My father! “There’s my girl.”

  He had lifted me into his arms before I had even uncurled. I felt his tears on my face as he smothered me in kisses. I squeezed him back with all the strength I had left. I felt true joy, knowing now that all would be safe and well. And I stayed there, in his big coal-stained arms as he carried me home.

  *

  No one believed my tale. A girl’s fantasy tied with being lost in the woods was what they all said it was. And while I myself came to believe it was just a dream, I never entered those woods again.

  I moved on with my life, marrying a wonderful man and had children and grandchildren of my own. Each of them I told stories to, though never the one of the willow. Like my own grandmother, I shall tell my encounter with the ma
n of green only once. I only do so now because today I received a package.

  A package that contained my big leather-bound story book.

  ###

  Thank you for taking the time to read this short story. If you enjoyed it please write a review. Also this short story will be part of a collection of stories titled “Alone in the End”.

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