The Forest (Short Story)

The dark, lonely night is soon replaced by the welcoming early hours of the day. It’s a Sunday, the best part of the week. For the most part, both adults and children find it necessary to sleep in, leaving the roads peacefully empty for me at this time.

I can feel myself rousing from my vacant dreams as a friendly sparrow begins to sing softly outside of my window. Quickly I jump out of bed, racing over to the window to check how light the day is. Perfect, no signs of dawn for at least another couple of hours or so. This gives me enough time to quickly dress in some rugged cargo trousers and my father’s old hunting fleece that is laced with the refreshing smell of pine trees and cigar smoke.

Careful not to disturb my father, I gingerly creep down the stairs. There is no real reason as to why I need to do this as he always drinks himself into an oblivious stupor every Saturday night. Even a herd of elephants would not be able to awaken him at this alarming hour. He prefers it this way though. Then for the whole of Sunday his pain and guilt is numbed by the intoxicating repercussions of the alcohol. All that was left after the accident was an empty shell of a man. Usually he doesn’t leave his bed until mid-afternoon, and that suits me just fine as I’d rather not see him like this.

He knows I leave the house at this ‘ridiculous’ hour, and he knows exactly where I go. I go to my only escape from this cruel world, like he escapes to his drink. I know it bothers him, but he knows there is nothing he can do to stop me. I am very stubborn; he once said that I got that from my mother. He hasn’t spoke of her for years now, the last time he mentioned her was a few days before my twin brother died. I wish he wouldn’t carry around the guilt of their deaths with him, but it’s pointless me saying anything when I too carry the same guilt upon my frail shoulders.

Heaving my tattered boots up my ankles, I lace them extra tight. I unconsciously grab a few essentials and place them in my satchel. I have just under two hours left before dawn; that should be plenty of time to reach my destination.

I stroll down the desolate streets, glad to be without company. I have never been much of a people person; I prefer the trees and wildlife compared to other human beings. Frankly it’s always been quite like this, even when my brother Ash was alive, he and my father were probably the only people that I‘d have a decent conversation with. But now my brother has gone, and my father has practically deserted me in my time of need. I have no one. At times I am glad of this; it feels as though it’s how it’s supposed to be.

I do miss Ash awfully though. He had flaxen hair, the same colour as mine, and these bright blue eyes, again just like mine. We did look a lot like each other, even though we were non-identical twins. What I miss most about him though is how he understood me, how in tune he was with my emotions. He shared the same thoughts on how life seems too complicated now, we thought it would be much easier back in the days when humans had to hunt and live outdoors. There would be less to worry about; not nearly as much human pollution; no nuclear weapons; not so many violent wars. Humans are the cause for so much havoc on this dying planet. It’d be simpler if we didn’t exist at all.

That’s why we’ve always liked to go to the forest, my father used to take us every Sunday. His words echo in my head as I walk, “A village is almost suffocating for an Ash and a Willow; you both belong in the forest.” Our names were derived from trees, and it almost felt as though our whole spirit was too. We did belong in the woods, free and happy.

The forest we went to is quite far away from our large village, you have to cross several fields and other woodland areas to get there. It’s far enough from civilisation not to be bothered by other people. But to be honest, ever since it happened, I think I am the only person who would actually want to visit that forest anyway.