Wondering Woods

The Wondering Woods is a place of dark, whimsical magic. Do you want to know why it’s called the Wondering Woods?

It’s been given that name because not only do the souls of the lost travelers endlessly wander through the tall trees and lush grasses, but also. It’s because the woods themselves move. They never stay in the same place, wandering around the world collecting souls. It is said that the woods are searching for a certain soul to free them all from a wicked curse—a curse of what I do not know. The story changes every time it is told. To some, the forest is dying and needs a new tree of life that can only be created by a pure soul. Others say it's looking like it's lost Queen or King. But the one I believe is that an ancient fae prince was cursed to wander these woods never to find his mate. But as time passed, the forest began to wander with him. And now the forest collects souls.

The woods are not picky about the souls they take. They take women, children, brothers, kings, princesses, and even the magic variety. They take young witches, mermaids, fairies, and even shifters. The sad thing about the shifters is that they change in the woods and never get to change back, lost in their animal form.

You’re probably wondering why people even wander inside the forest if everyone knows you’ll never be able to leave it. The thing is, you don’t get a choice; the forest will walk right up to your house and force you inside. It’s different for everybody. The forest takes their animals, and the owner runs in, trying to save their beloved family pet. And if you have a child, the forest will mimic your child's cry.

The worst one is when they cast an illusion of a loved one who has long passed. You look out into the forest and see a sister you knew was dead. You knew because you buried her, but there she is standing in front of you. You wander closer, and by the time you realize what has happened, it's too late. That’s how the forest got me. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. Time is a little strange within the trees of the forest.

Sometimes days go by without even a glitter of sun, and then it does the opposite. The sun beats you; it’s hot, relenting heat till you're sticky with sweat. There’s no rising sun or setting sun. It’s like someone turns on and then turns off the lights. I know that there are others hidden within this forest; I’ve yet to see a single soul.

As I walked along the forest floor, climbed the trees, and sat by the babbling brook, no soul crossed my path. Am I doomed to this hell forever? Is this to be my home? Am I dead?

I hope I’m not dead because this is eternal hell, at least for me. There’s no torturing, there are no whips, chains, and endless fire, but there is endless loneliness. Which, in my opinion, is far worse. I have nobody to talk to, nobody to share a meal with. There’s nobody around to even hear me scream at the top of my lungs. There is nobody to hear me yell at the heavens for what they have done to me, what they have done to this forest.

Why would they invent and create something so cruel as to capture souls only to make sure they feel as isolated as before?

The strange thing is that I don't feel lost. In a way, the forest is telling me where to go. I wonder deeper and deeper into the woods. The trees are getting thicker, and the flowers are turning a darker shade. There’s no point in trying to figure out where I got in or which part of the forest is an exit, for the forest moves and changes and shifts.

Maybe that’s how the forest walks. It’s not the forest walking, but it’s a soul all moving together as one. The forest controls them, telling them which direction to move in. And we do it because all we want is to see another soul and know that we are not alone in this big, bad world.

I don’t even know why the forest would want me. It’s not like I’m all that special. I am a defect. When I was born, I was cursed with the ability not to hear.

At least I cannot hear what is going on in the world around me. I can hear other things, though. I can hear soft chimes in the wind, popping bubbles within the water, and how the trees sing to one another. It’s deep and dramatic in the morning every single day. They are exhausted, and they wish to sit down and rest eternally.

Mother said that I can hear those things because that is the magic of the world. Having the ability not to hear natural sounds gave me the ability to hear sounds in a magical sense. To me, it just sounds like a bunch of bullshit and still does.

Now I’m trapped in a forest, where the magic sounds within are terrifying. It’s not even that there are multiple sounds. There is only one sound, and my heart hurts every time I hear it.

The sound comes at least twice a day. It's the sound of crying, at least that’s how I think crying would sound. Maybe crying is not the best word for it; it's more like mourning. The sound is brutal and unnerving. My heart wants to rip out of my chest to stop the sound. It clays my core with a desperate need to escape. I am not even sure if the sound comes from a male or a female.

But the farther I walk, the louder the sound gets. The forest guides me closer and closer. The only good thing about this sound is that I will finally not be alone.

If anybody looked over at me right now, they probably think I’m batshit crazy. A deaf girl, talking to herself. I think I’m talking to myself. I have never actually heard my voice. Not even sure if I’m pronouncing the words correctly.

I continue walking down this thick path carved into the trees. The branches arch up, covering the scorching sun. The bottom of my yellow dress is stained with dirt, and my dark hair is a tangled mess of curls.

The voice cries for the second time today, and my knees buckle at the sound. I heave over as the sound rips through the loudest it has ever been. Liquid drips from my eyes as I look up to the trees for answers. They give me none. The scream begs for release from whatever torment it is enduring. I long to release them.

I’m not quite sure if I’m strong enough to perform such an act. I’m just a deaf human girl, born from a witch in the human world. My mother wished I were more, wishing I were gifted with power. My father didn’t care. He loved me and taught me how to be kind.

God, my life must sound so lame.

The sound stops, and I can finally continue down the path as I relive my past for the hundredth time. I lived in a farmhouse, but I would always escape to the roof and paint the sounds that I would hear. No one liked my paintings except for my sister. Many would just say that they were just strings of color. That they made no sense and that they served no purpose. But I loved them because I was finally able to see what I was hearing. That I can show people what I was hearing.

I just hope that one day you can hear it, too. I miss the sound of the wind in my village. Every time it kissed my face, it was so soft, and there was a harmony to it that always made me smile. Even on days when the wind was harsh and the storm lay into the night, the chimes were always there. The day I wandered into this forest, I knew something was wrong because I could no longer hear the wind or the bubbles in the brook behind the house. The only sound that cursed my ears was the wailing screams of a stranger.

The path opens up to a large pit that is surrounded by trees. My stomach drops as my eyes take in the sight before me. I now know why I didn't wander into the path of another soul. It's because they are all here. Well, at least their bones are. The pit is filled with the yellowing bones of the wanderers. Each skull is a different size, and my heart thunders to escape as I see the small skull of a child.