A Boy Named Alice

Chapter Four

Light tapping woke me. My vision cleared and I came face to face with something from my nightmares. I gasped and scuttled away, heart thumping in my chest, my back hitting the hard bark of the tree. My backpack tumbled to the dirt.

The thing--it was not human--peered at me from a crouched position, one bony hand on an equally bony knee. Thin shoulders hunched up by its ears. Big, round eyes followed me as the thing's head tilted to the right, confusion spreading across its weathered, thin face.

"Whatcha' doing here?"

Its voice was as frail as its appearance. Light wispy hair swayed in time with threadbare clothes caught in a soft breeze. It leaned forward, one hand coming to splay along the ground, the other resting on my backpack. It smiled, thin lips pulled back over dark yellowed teeth.

"You're new here, ain't ya?" It sniffed the air, eyes narrowing and skin wrinkling at the corners. "I haven't seen one of you here in forever."

"Try to eat me and I'll kill you," I said, cringing. My voice came out as insubstantial as the thing's hair.

It reared back, wrinkled skin scrunched up, and head shaking. "Why would Ol'Toady do that? Everyone knows the younglings are tough and sinewy."

"Because you're evil."

Every horror movie I'd ever seen played through my head in gruesome detail. Bodies shredded and terrified screams, ignored pleas for mercy. The characters that ran, always found the bad guys first, and the ones who got lost in the creepy woods never made it out.

"And I'm a monster hunter! I can kill you before you can blink!"

Fear fueled panic refused to surrender. For each breath I took, it fought back, and gained more ground. Tears prickled my eyes. I found a loose branch lying to the right of me, and grabbed it, holding it before me, a clear threat in my stance.

None of this made sense. Monsters weren't real, yet one sat before me. All the movies and comics had taught me that monsters were things not people. Despite this, I couldn't help thinking of Toady as a 'he' instead of an 'it'.

"Ya have no idea, do ya?"

His face softened, eyes lighting up, and one bony hand patted my arm. I jumped back, bringing the branch up higher in an attempt to defend myself.

"What are you talking about?"

"There, there, Little Friend," he said. "No need to fear Ol' Toady. I've got no use for eatin' you. I prefer my food thoroughly aged, and not human."

Toady settled on the forest floor, gangly legs crossed, knees jutting out, and knobby head resting on prominent knuckles, my backpack in his lap.

"How can Ol'Toady be of assistance?"

I swallowed and tried to calm down the way Sheryl had tried to teach me. I'd hated the yoga lessons before we'd even started and had spent most of the time daydreaming. This part, however, was simple. I started counting slowly backwards from ten to one in my head, taking a breath with every third number.

Breathe in, ten, nine eight, breathe out, seven, six, five.

"Where...where am I?"

"You're in the Dead Woods," Toady said.

"I don't understand." The branch in my hands drooped ever so slightly.

"This is a place for the dead, and the not so dead." Toady tilted his head, face scrunching in thought, skin wrinkled like old, crumpled paper.