She looked dead, so utterly, never coming back ever dead where a runner of crimson blood slid along the corner of her pale cheek to disappear into her hair and her brown eyes projected fear as they stared at the eternal beyond. And Josh wished they’d just walked passed the simple gate that served as the entrance to a garden of horrific carvings. Such a plain little gate set at the end of what the nature park’s trail map showed as a dead end path. Only those who had heard about the carvings walked the dead end path. The dead woman giggled.
Josh tore his gaze from the mirror in front of him. The mirror was imbedded on a concave door set into the forest floor, a doorway to nowhere. Around one half of the door’s curve was the chiseled images of man, woman and beast entwined with the words ‘Unto Thyself Be Known’. On the other side was the mirror. When they’d first come upon the door with its mirror they were confused. They weren’t able to see their reflections. It wasn’t until Aspen had left Josh to study the mystery that he’d understood. When she got eight steps to his left, directly across from the right hand curve, he saw her. Dead.
He took his time turning towards her, hope fluttered through him. Hope that in those few seconds since she’d walked away catastrophe hadn’t really struck. And then there she stood, full of life and what he called ‘Aspen spunk’, throwing back her head and letting loose that full-throated laugh. God, she was sexy when she did that; so vital, so free, and so not the image in the mirror.
“Hey,” she said after she’d stopped laughing. “This mirror must be screwy. I can hardly see a thing. I mean there’s this black smudge overlaying you and the trees behind you. It’s kinda trippy actually.”
Josh released the breath he’d been holding prisoner. A trick mirror, thank God, just a trick mirror. He laughed.
“You look dead from my angle,” he said.
“Really? Change spots let’s see what you like all dead.”
Eyes on the path in front of him, a jumble of cedar chips and pine needles, Josh walked to the spot where Aspen had stood before she’d skipped over to his. Cool fingers of trepidation tickled the back of Josh’s neck, a contrast to Aspen’s obvious excitement. It sapped his urge to look up in the mirror but his eyes, as if they had a mind of their own, crept up. Crept up past the cedar chip path, over the surrounding ferns, up to the base of the door, all weathered gray, up and up and up to the death in the mirror.
“What the Hell?” Aspen said.
He turned in time to watch her face scrunch up in typical Aspen disapproval.
“This mirror is buggered. You’re still dark, not dead,” she said.
A gust of wind took that moment to rustle the trees and send the branches whispering. Goosebumps popped up on Josh’s arms, he rubbed them and tried not to think of bad omens. Josh suppressed the wild urge to laugh.
“And you’re still dead,” he said.
“Huh. Like I said, buggered.”
She tousled her hair once, almost like she was defying the mirror, then turned and started down the path. Josh followed. He shook his head at her instant dismissal. Sure the mirror was screwy but it disturbed him. Mirrors just shouldn’t do that. When he caught up with her he saw that they were on the top of a small hill.
Down and around the path they were on wound until it leveled out with the main forest floor. Down and around Josh and Aspen followed, hands entwined, Josh’s mind set to see the carvings below, though with some apprehension.
The first, a demon, loomed up beside them. His horns twisted up and locked with the branches of a nearby tree. Muscles seemed to ripple with life as sun-dappled shadows played across its well-toned body. When Josh ran a hand down on muscled thigh it felt like sin. Only meticulous sand and polishing achieved that feeling. Etched onto its grotesque face were the twin visions of pain and fear bordering on pleasure.
“Wow,” Josh said.
“Wow, isn’t the right word,” Aspen said. The breathlessness of her voice betrayed her emotion. “Impressive. That is impressive and so realistic.”
Josh stood back to take the carving in as a whole. The shadows from the surrounding trees caressed it, slid across it like lover’s hands. Within the frightful visage an erotic aura hid, an aura Josh responded to. He looked from the beast to Aspen. A tidal wave of lust swept him up. In his mind he saw himself grab her and pull her down onto the path. Fabric ripped and tore, buttons were lost. Sweat, heat, protests. Moans, his. Screams, hers. Gone. As quickly as it’d consumed him, the wave receded, confusion and a touch of fear the seaweed it left behind.
“Ooh, ooh, ooh, come look at this one,” Aspen said.
Startled, Josh looked around for Aspen. He hadn’t even noticed she’d left and was halfway down the path. Legs threatened to jellyfish with the first few steps. One more step then the next and Josh didn’t have to worry about toppling into the underbrush. What the Hell’d brought that on? Residual weirdness from the mirror had messed with his mind was his guess.
Rusty chains bound the next carving to a tree. The artist had carved a human skeleton; every little bone looked to be there. Instead of a fleshless skull he’d carved the head of a goat. Imbedded in the head were yellow doll’s eyes. The wood around the eyes had been worked to give the goat the expression of pain mingled with anger. Its mouth frozen in a half scream, half snarl. Rage, frustration, pain all poured from the carving.
“Hmm, wonder what was going on when he did this one?” Aspen said. “It feels like he’s trapped and can’t do anything about it.”
“Kinda makes you want to throw your head back and yell doesn’t it?” Josh replied.
Josh threw back his head. From the depth of his gut a roar surged forth and tore passed his lips. Air whooshed beneath many a beating wing as birds took flight from their treetop perches. When the last bellow had faded the forest echoed it with silence.
“You go,” Aspen said. She tossed back her head and let loose her throaty laugh. “I laugh because I can.”
A stray shaft of sunlight slid through the trees and touched upon her dark hair teasing the hidden fires within before traveling down her body, binding her in its mellow glow, strangling her with light. Josh grabbed Aspen and moved her out of the sun’s chains. Nothing was going to trap Aspen, nothing. Arms still around her he took in her warm smell, the softness of her body. She laughed and tried to squirm away. He held her tighter.
“Stop it,” she said. She slapped at his arms. “Come on Josh let me go, you’re crushing my ribs.”
The sound of her voice broke into his thoughts. He let her go. A sigh carried a whisper through the trees. Something he wasn’t quite able to catch.
“Let’s see what else there is to see,” he said. His voice sounded thick to his ears. Must have to Aspen’s too because she cocked her head and looked at him with a little frown on her face.
“You all right?” she asked.
“Fine.” Relieved that his voice sounded more normal. She still looked at him with the same frown. “I’m fine. Come on.”
Josh started down the path without her. For a beat the only sound of footsteps were his own, then a flurry of hurried steps as she strove to catch up. He stopped and, ignoring the slight nudge from Aspen as she pulled up beside him, stared at what was before him.
How such a simple little carving was able to project such a feeling of abject terror Josh didn’t know. Beside the path they’d been following it sat. It didn’t loom. It didn’t yell out. It just was. Only four feet in height and dressed in a ‘Spiderman’ tee-shirt and shorts was a boy. The clothes were real. The boy was wooden. To Josh it looked like the clothes had been changed recently, like the artist was trying to keep up with kiddy fashion trends. The boy had his hands at his sides and was looking in the direction they’d just come.
A plain carving until one looked into the boy’s eyes. Reflected there was terror, real terror. Not the sweaty palms, heart thumping, laugh about it later terror either. Terror of the kind that one didn’t survive, of looking Death in the eyeball, knowing you weren’t ready to lose this staring contest and knowing you weren’t going to win.
“Creepy,” Aspen said.
From the corner of his eye Josh caught a movement. He turned, expecting some form of wildlife, and, if asked, he’d have sworn to have seen the silhouette of a tall, broad shouldered man right where the gaze of the boy was directed. Back into his head snuck the image of Aspen dead. His heart screeched to a halt, a breathless second, and started back up with a slam. Aspen gone. No more midnight pancakes, no more insane tube rides down the river, no more snuggling under the covers and watching the stars cross the bedroom window. Nothing, a hole where she should be. Death rode in on horseback, swept his scythe and snatched her away.
“No,” he whispered.
“No, what?” she asked.
Josh looked at her. That smartass glint of hers shone in her eyes. If she only knew what that image of her death did. Seeing her that way killed him. It made him realize how important she was to him. How empty life would be without her. Six months wasn’t a long time to be together yet the depth of what he felt for her surprised him. His heart ached at the thought of losing her.
“Nothing. Just… nothing,” he replied.
“Obviously it’s not ‘just nothing’. Tell me what.”
“Really, Aspen, it’s nothing. Come let’s move on.”
Aspen opened her mouth as if to say something; instead she walked away. They left the little boy behind as they walked on opposite sides of the path. He looked at the empty space between them, a chasm, and wondered what was wrong with him. What was with these insane images that kept engulfing him, drowning him with their intensity yet pushing Aspen away? Where were they coming from? He needed to control them, to block them out before he let them push Aspen out of his life. The words necessary to tell Aspen about the visions rose to the tip of his tongue. Mouth opened to let them tumble out. Aspen stopped.
Before them lay a fallen log, salal grew from the top. Moss covered what remained of the bark. Carved into the side of the log were a man and a snake, twined in battle. The man lay on his back, the snake twisted around his legs and torso yet faced away from him like it was trying to escape. Power unchecked rippled through their muscles. The man gripped the head of the snake, biceps bulging. Carved into the man’s face had been pure anger, into the snake’s, sheer desperation.
“What’s bothering you?” Aspen asked.
Josh intended to tell her about the disturbing scenes he saw, about the awful feeling that swept through him. Instead anger stirred within him. Anger he didn’t recognize as his own. Breathe, just breathe, count to ten if you have to then answer her.
“Nothing is bothering me,” he said. Crap, why’d he just say that instead of what he wanted to?
“Well, there is something going on. You never just say something out of the blue unless there’s something on your mind.”
Breathe. Come on breathe, calm down and fight the anger. He looked at her standing there watching him like she expected an apology. There was a snap in his chest as the anger burst from the leash Josh had tried to keep it on.
“Can’t you just drop it?” he said. It came out more snarl than anything.
“Can’t you just admit something is going on?” she replied.
For a moment the anger cleared. He saw everything in perfect clarity. Leaves greener then any green he’d ever seen rustled in a breeze that was like a silken caress and smelled of purity. The little hairs in his ear vibrated as the whisper of the forest grew louder, he stood still, quiet, on the verge of deciphering the forests words. The anger rolled back in like fog does to a ship lost at sea.
“You always have to push, push, push. Can’t you accept the fact that I said something that had no meaning? People do that occasionally you know.”
“I just asked you a simple question, there’s no reason to go all nutty on me. God, Josh sometimes you’re a real ass.” Aspen turned her back to him and headed back the way they came. “See you at the car.”
Anger seethed through him. Color leeched from the sky, the trees, and the earth until all the existed was Aspen. Aspen was walking away from him, going down the path without him, hips swaying and hair bouncing, without him.
Pine needles covering the path swished under foot. Hair entangled fingers. A startled, strangled scream filled the air. To her back Aspen fell as he pulled that thick mane. Darkness ate the edges of his vision as he straddled her, wrapped his hands around that slender neck that broke into goose bumps whenever he’d kissed it. Only her face remained. A beautiful face that made ache him when she was near and made him ache even more when she wasn’t. She wasn’t going to be walking away from him, ever. The perfect mouth opened, sound erupted but he heard nothing. Nothing but a growing whisper in the trees. Saw nothing but the face in the dark.
Beneath him she struggled. A knee rose and bore down on her chest. Eyes bulged from lack of oxygen and an overdose of terror. She struggled harder; he leaned harder on her chest to match.
His, she was his. A crack rent the air. A trickle of blood escaped her lips and ran towards her ear like it had a secret it wanted to share only with her. He squeezed harder. Her depthless brown eyes widened in terror then glazed over. The struggles stopped. The dark receded, the forest returned, the whispers continued.
A shaft of sunlight broke through the branches. It caressed her, illuminated her face. Touched the hands around her throat; his. Oh God, oh Aspen, what had he done? The laughter started as a titter, rose to a chuckle, peaked at a full out roaring, lunatic laughter that came from everywhere and nowhere. Guttural, deep, it surrounded him, enveloped him until he wasn’t able to move. Panic swept him up in its loving embrace. Run, run, flee this mad place, it urged. Run from this demented laughter, this broken shell that was Aspen. Run until you drop. Still he wasn’t able to move. Nailed in place by the laughter, hands still around Aspen’s neck he felt it.
It started in his toes, a hardening that traveled up his legs through his chest, his arms. He felt Aspen’s neck turn to wood right before his hands filled with the same hardness. Lastly his head froze. Wood, he was made of wood. Another carving added to the forest, another aware carving. Now the visions made sense. Everything made sense when he thought about it and ahead was time to think.
His mind screamed at the years ahead. At the years of watching people look at him and Aspen, at his shame. Years and years of wind and rain, sun and dark, of people and animals marched before him like a never ending road.
A whisper entwined the laughter. The same whisper he’d heard before. Now he was able to make out the words, words spoken so softly and with loving malice.
“Unto thyself be known. Unto thyself be known…”
