Symphony of Shadows

Ewan sat up from his bed, drawn from his nice, warm sheets and faced suddenly with the chilly early morning air seeping in through his open bedroom window. He rubbed at his still-tired eyes as they adjusted to the first rays of morning light. He stretched his arms upwards for a moment and climbed slowly out of his bed, making his way across creaky floorboards to the window. The view from his bedroom was nothing short of breathtaking. Across Ewan’s little patch of lawn, which wasn’t good for much apart from a small herb garden, lay hundreds of acres of magnificent forest, stretched across miles and miles. They were as mysterious as they were beautiful. Other than the occasional berry picking he did along the forest’s edge, Ewan stayed out of the woods.

As his hands reached for the latch, a sudden and haunting howl echoed out from the trees. The cry was unpleasant. It was dissonant and hard on his ears, like an out of tune piano. He should’ve been scared, and he knew it. But as the howl waxed and waned, he found himself inexplicably drawn to the ghostly call. Before long, still dressed in his night shirt and still a little groggy from his rather sudden wake up call, Ewan found himself standing at the fringe of the forest. A jagged gravel path sprawled a few hundred feet into the woods before eventually fizzling out into a handful of pebbles and roughly transitioning into a dirt trail. He was armed with nothing, unprepared and not sure what to expect. He shivered as his bare feet shifted nervously against the dewy grass. With a long, deep breath through his nose, smelling the pine and moistened Earth, he took one small step, then another, then another, until he was standing shakily on the rocky walkway in front of him. As he walked, the stones beneath his feet shifted against each other and clattered together like a clunky maraca. Each step, another shhhk...shhhk...shhhk. He noted then, that the howl had stopped. The silence of the forest was broken only by his rattling steps and the soft chirp of little birds hidden in the lush greenery above him. It was like they took turns, clucking and chittering in perfect time with one another. One would warble a long, low note, while another would tweet short, pinched peeps. An avian choir that rather amused Ewan as he walked along the pebbled path. He closed his eyes as he went, humming a joyful tune to the similarly cheerful birdsong. The gravel path had since ended, and the rattle of the pebbles was replaced by Ewan’s shuffled feet against dried mud.

Before long, the path came to a head and opened up into a large, spacious clearing. Ewan stood in the very center of the glade. Massive trees with their branches stretched up towards the clouds lined the edge of the moor. The wind blew gently and rocked the ancient trees, and they groaned long, deep, moans as the smaller, skinner saplings creaked along to a much cheerier tune. A bubbling creek babbled through the glade with a rhythmic gurgle, keeping time with the swish of the tall grass at its banks. Tiny silver fish wriggled and flashed just beneath the water's surface—little dancers to the forests carefully composed symphony.

As Ewan stepped along the grass, a voice yelped from beneath his foot. He quickly pulled his leg upward toward him, watching as a flash of light zipped from the emerald green sod and buzzed circles around him. A fairy, Ewan thought, a real life fairy! A little sprite fluttered and dashed sporadically around Ewan’s face. As she flew, she laughed; her voice remanent of tinkling bells, soft and sweet. He followed her rapid movements, watching in awe as her sun-dappled wings glittered against the leaves of the trees. Each graceful movement she made resembled the rise and fall of a waltz. Ewan chuckled as he began to sway his body to match her elegant movements. He could’ve danced forever, it seemed. As he closed his eyes and let the music of the forest take control, he found himself spinning and twirling like a child, without a care in the world and unafraid of how silly he may have looked. His laughter mingled with the sprites, a roaring boom to her delicate, jingling giggle.

Through Ewan’s shuffled steps and joyful laughter, the same powerful cry he had heard before rang out from the trees, stopping him in his tracks. He quickly scanned the canopy, reaching his hand upward to shield his eyes from the splintered sun rays peeking through the leaves. In a mighty old tree at the edge of the glade, an owl—with orange eyes like candle flames—sat perched on a branch, hooting a strain so eerily like the pull of a bow across violin strings. His gaze didn’t shift from Ewan, even when the tinkering sprite dashed out of view and back into the tall grass. The owl ruffled its wings and shifted its weight between its feet. The forest’s music had stopped. An uneasy silence enveloped the glade. Ewan stepped slowly toward the path again, the owl’s eyes following each careful movement. It cried out again, sharp and harsh on Ewan’s ears. The moment his foot touched the dirt path again, the owl took flight, swooping down from the branch and crashing hard into Ewan’s body.

Dark, black, nothingness. He barely had time to scream before everything went dim. When his eyes finally fluttered open again, he scrambled to his feet and clawed at the empty space in front of him. He turned his head side to side, panting and grunting like an injured animal, trying desperately to be better prepared for another attack from the monstrous owl.

But an attack didn’t come. In a moment of sporadic bravery, he opened his eyes, arms still raised in self-defense.

He was home.

Back in the safety of his bedroom, with his blanket and sheets bunched up in a heap at his feet. He put his hand against his sweat-dampened forehead and plopped down on his bed as he tried hard to catch his breath. He wondered then, if it was all just a bad dream. But his head was pounding, and the soles of his feet ached as though he had been walking for days on end.

Across from him, his window was cracked just as he had left it before. It was dark outside now. The sprawling acres of forest outside were lit dimly by the light of a full moon. He rose from his bed, still shaken and confused, and reached his hand out to shut the latch once and for all. As he pushed the window closed, a cry rang out from the darkened tree line. Ewan’s heart began to pound. As his eyes darted back and forth from one end of the forest to the other, two large orange eyes stared back at him from the deep, black void. It wasn’t a dream, and he knew that now.

He slammed the window shut, tightened the latch, and pulled the curtains closed in a terrified hurry, before shuffling back into his bed and pulling his blankets tightly around his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to fall asleep. The daylight would bring a much desired peace. He promised himself, the forest, the universe even, silently, that he would never set foot in the woods again.

But the call pierced through the silence once again. It sounded closer this time.

Crack! A broken latch. Creeeeeak. An open window. And an unmistakable sound of an out of tune violin.