Aesyra

“The screams were coming from the direction of the Johnson house. The whole village was accustomed to various noises emerging from that particular dwelling but they were usually laced with frustration and anger. On that day, the only way to describe the noise was joyous. A group of people had gathered outside the house, unashamedly curious to know what was happening.

Bob Johnson suddenly burst through the front door and ran erratically into the street. He grabbed Mary Clark who was standing amongst the gawkers and hugged her, his withered hands clutching her back as his body shook with sobs. In a move that made Mary shriek, he suddenly kissed her on both cheeks with a loud smack of his lips before emitting a hysterical laugh. He next lunged at Old Tony who happened to be standing next to Mary. He grabbed Old Tony’s hand and spun him around. Well, he attempted to as Old Tony’s large frame and refusal to cooperate resulted in Bob simply swinging his hand around. Old Tony grabbed Bob by the shoulders and demanded to know what was happening. Bob couldn’t stand still long enough to explain, wriggling his way out of Old Tony’s grasp and dancing down the street shouting incomprehensibly.

More villagers gathered and they all turned back towards the door as a figure emerged from within. It was Ellen Johnson coming outside. It was disconcerting to see Ellen there as the only sightings of Ellen usually occurred on the back roads and in the woods, shuffling alongside her father. There was something about the way she stood, staring at the group gathered. Some shifted uncomfortably, others transfixed by her gaze unable to look away. Realisation began to dawn and one by one there were gasps, cries and incoherent utterances as their own eyes attempted to deceive them. Could it actually be true? Ellen, who had been blind since birth, was looking directly at them”.

Eric paused and waited for the group’s reaction. He always enjoyed telling this part of the story, building the drama and watching the effect. It wasn’t the most important part of his story but he needed to provide some history, an insight into what was coming.

“It turned out it wasn’t only Ellen Johnson whose life changed that day. Word spread quickly that something wasn’t quite right with Wilbur’s girl, Gretel. I can only imagine how it must have been for Gretel. Staring at her father gesticulating wildly whilst he opened and closed his mouth repeatedly. Seeing the rose hue in his skin steadily rise from his neck as his face contorted into a series of odd expressions. His hands firmly gripping her shoulders, giving her body a hard shake. Choked with panic as she failed to understand what was happening. Pounding on her ears with clenched fists as she tried to fathom this strangeness. Someone had pressed mute on the world and Gretel didn’t know how to switch the volume back on”.

Eric remembered hearing this story when he was a child. They had all heard stories like this throughout their lives. The elders enjoyed entertaining the children, adding embellishments to heighten the drama of each story. The adults viewed the stories as cautionary tales, the children as fairy tales. Another favourite fable oft shared was of the resident asking for a clean drinking water supply for the village. The river ran pure and unpolluted however the woods surrounding the river completely burned to the ground. During summer the heat was almost unbearable without the shade of the trees as people went to the river to collect water.

“Aesyra was the stuff of legend, the reason myths were created. She was the solution to problems, the remedy to life’s misfortunes. She was the keeper of hope, the creator of dreams. She would give you exactly what you wanted but take away that what you needed. That was how she worked.

There were none who could definitively say how old she was. Many speculated and others swore they knew the truth. The fact of the matter was she was older than any records and there were none alive who could confirm or deny it.

She was a mystery, an enigma that no one could ever completely solve but through stories the villagers had managed to assemble some information about her.  There seemed to only be one limit to her abilities. She could not directly give life nor take it. She could help a couple conceive by removing the restrictions that had prevented them from falling pregnant however she couldn’t create a baby. In the same vein, she could not (or perhaps would not) restore life once it was gone. Some had tried, carrying small lifeless children and slain husbands to her trunk, laying them down on the earth and begging for her to help. Nothing ever resulted from this but more heartache for the desperate.

There was an unspoken understanding we all knew, a price to be paid when asking her for a gift. She never gave anything without taking something in return. Many had visited her over the years asking for their heart’s desire and others had borne the consequences.

The people of the village revered her and feared one another. For those that turned to her for help, others chose to stay away knowing it would only lead to someone else’s sorrow. Can you truly feel happiness knowing you have caused pain to another? Many turned a blind eye to the consequence, choosing to believe that it wasn’t true and purely coincidental if a similar affliction befell another. There were accusations of selfishness and lack of morality. There were rebuttals of individual needs and martyrdom.

She was spoken about as though she were a thing of the past, not a living organism inhabiting the dense woods. It was safer to speak of her in past tense, this way casting no suspicions on what your intentions may be”.

Eric swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat. This was the most important part of his story and he didn’t want anything to detract from it. He was the vessel that needed to convey this message to others and he couldn’t allow himself to lose his way by giving in to his emotions. This was bigger than him, bigger than any of them.

“The day it happened was no different to the day before and the day before that. People went about their lives as they do. It was late afternoon however when Rose and Harvey emerged from the woods, their faces a mixture of disbelief and hope. For those that knew them it wasn’t difficult to guess why they had chosen to visit Aesyra. The unshed tears, the pained expression whenever children were near, the sympathetic looks and whispers as time went on; there was only so much a couple could endure. They would have lain down under her branches, begging and pleading whilst she rained leaves upon them, silently listening.

The following day was one unlike any that Tom had ever experienced. It happened overnight. The rich, fertile soil that cultivated potatoes, carrots and other vegetables now crumbled in his fingers, without a speck of moisture or life in it. He had unearthed an entire plot, trying to find a trace of any existence. This once thriving land, an embodiment of life and growth, was now barren. His livelihood was gone. Running the farm, tending to his crops was all he knew and now the land wouldn’t provide that anymore. He thought of his children and imagined a future of tear-stained cheeks and emaciated bodies.

Tom could see the rounding of Rose’s stomach growing more every day. He scrounged around for food, swallowing his pride to beg for measly morsels. The light in his children’s eyes was slowly dimming and the energy of youth dissipating. He could see them diminishing in front of his very eyes and it was more than he could stand. He had heard the whispers and knew who was responsible. It had to have been Rose’s wish that cost him his livelihood; he would be damned if it didn’t cost him his children too.

Aesyra had chosen to give Rose a chance to create life and in turn had brought death upon Tom. He wondered if there was a way to reverse it. He had no idea if that was the way she worked but he had to do something before he lost his children. They hadn’t asked for any of this but it had been inflicted upon them. Rose and Harvey and their selfish want for a child of their own were willing to forfeit Tom’s children to get what they wanted”.

“Why doesn’t he just ask her for food for his children?” interrupted a voice from the back of the group, breaking Eric from his reverie. “It seems pretty obvious. They are starving so just go and ask her for more. Or better yet ask her for new, healthy crops”. The others turned back toward Eric silently, awaiting his reply.

“You’re right. It does seem obvious”, Eric responded. “That’s exactly what Tom was thinking”.

“Tom knew what the solution was. Ask her to take care of them, to ensure that they were always nourished and sustained. There was no reason why she wouldn’t do it. For all that Tom had heard about her over the years it seemed like she didn’t refuse anyone within her limits.

Watching Rose as she went for daily walks, rubbing her stomach in wonder was too much for Tom. He remembered that same look on Helen’s face during each of her pregnancies. The thought of Helen gave him pause for a moment. What he wouldn’t give to talk to her, to have her with him again. The thoughts in his head whirled round and he needed her voice of reason to guide him.

Did he ensure his own family’s survival by destroying another’s? Was his happiness worth more than anyone else’s? He saw no hope in his future, no means of turning the tide of his misfortune. Why should he and his children suffer at the hands of another? Why couldn’t they take what they wanted just as Rose and Harvey had, as Mary had, as countless others had.

He knew what he needed to do.

Tom walked carefully through the woods, eyes on the ground to avoid twisted roots and rocks. Sunlight filtered through the trees but was losing a battle against the heavy dew. He tried to take a few deep breaths but the moist air was making it difficult. The wind carried a unique, cloying scent to him and he assumed he must be close.

He had never seen Aesyra before. Throughout his childhood he had been warned not to venture this far into the woods and to never go near her. His parents firmly believed that they had everything they needed and she was the receptacle of temptation. To ask of her that which you most wished for was to deny another the same opportunity and this was so deeply instilled in him that it had never occurred to him to visit before today.

Her branches reached out, ready to embrace and envelope. Her height was impossible to measure as she reached to the sky. Her scent was even more suffocating up close, forcing Tom to breathe through his mouth to avoid inhaling it. His fingers trembled as he reached out to stroke her bark, silky smooth to the touch despite the rough appearance. Tom finally understood why Aesyra was referred to as ‘she’; there was a nurturing essence, an inexplicable feminine presence to this tree.

Tom laid his hand against her for another moment before reaching down to retrieve the axe. With a heavy heart, he raised it high. For my children, he said as the axe sailed through the air on its maiden swing”.