The Wising Hollow

A young girl alone in the forest began to cry. Her wails carried over the wind and echoed her vast loneliness. The air did not reply. The girl continued to weep and eventually collapsed to the ground. No chirps, no crickets . . . not even the hum of a breeze passed through the land. Then, approaching in the distance, came a tick followed by a tock. The sound of a seldom heard clock subtly grew louder, as faithful as a heartbeat.

The girl’s sobs slowed as she became distracted. She looked over toward the source: a stooped and wilting figure emitting a brilliant light from beneath its tattered robes. The figure wore chains that weighed it down. As it came closer, she realized it was a man with a sun-bleached beard dragging in the dirt and blank, pupilless eyes, windows into a white emptiness. He brandished a necklace with an hourglass, and sand fell and spoke of time past. Grain by grain, by the laws of gravity, the top withered away and the bottom bulb filled; at that moment, he flipped it, and the clock began anew. The girl’s green eyes glistened with hope at the passerby as the ticks and tocks rang from deep within his chest at perfect intervals.

“Hello . . .” the girl let out as she sniffed and wiped her eyes. 

“Hello,” the man greeted her in return as he slowly walked by without turning his head. The girl looked at him, confused.

“Hey . . . wait!” she yelled after him. The man did not turn around or brake. She quickly caught up to him and tugged on his sleeve. “Excuse me . . . Can you help me?” 

The elder did not respond to or acknowledge the youth in distress. A fire began to churn within her. “Can’t you stop? Can’t you even look at me?” Her bellows echoed through the empty forest. 

The man refused to face her or stop. “Dear child . . . this world will not wait for you.  I cannot stop . . . I will never stop. You are lost, dear child, but you can be found. Do not get left behind. Do not wait for things to come. For time . . . time is unforgiving.” The man kept a steady pace to the sound of his ticking heart-clock, but the girl began to slow, realizing she had just received all the man had to offer. She then stopped dead in her tracks and collapsed to her knees with a burdensome dread. The luminescent figure, carrying the weight of wisdom, faded into the distance.

The lost soul found herself wandering aimlessly through the wilderness yet again. After the passing of some time, she suddenly noticed a discordant chorus. The sounds of life washed over her. They burst throughout the land; she heard the wind, birds, and other busy creatures, and yet she was still alone. The noises only made it ever more apparent. Her eyes began to overflow with tears. Despite her crushing state of mind, she persisted through the terrain, recalling what the elderly man had said to her. 

Exhausted, she tripped on a protruding root and lost her balance; this resulted in a rough tumble down a grassy hillside directly into a sharp-thorned bramble. The berries fell in various colors. The girl screamed in pain and began to tremble profusely. 

As she crawled out, she noticed a woman petting a naïve fawn with eyes as curious and innocent as her own. The woman had a powerful glow around her, and her long, blood-red hair fell effortlessly upon her shoulders and down her back. She was barefoot, wore a silver dress with a mossy green trim, and lacked jewelry, for she needed none to shine. Her eyes were green as well, which the girl noticed when she looked over at her. The young one stared in amazement, momentarily distracted from her anguish. 

“What are you doing here, sweet girl?” the woman asked. 

The girl stood up and brushed off the leaves, twigs, and dirt from her filth-ridden and travel-stained clothes. “I need some help . . .” As she approached the angelic spirit, the fawn bolted ahead but stayed in sight. “. . . I’m sorry about that . . .” the girl apologized.

“Oh, that’s quite alright . . . he won’t stray too far,” the woman said in a forgotten melody. 

“Can you help me?” the girl once again inquired. 

“Why do you require my help?” the woman’s brows began to sink, as if heavy. 

Tears leaked out of the girl’s eyes, and her voice cracked as she spoke. “I . . . I am all alone. I have no one . . .” she admitted. 

“Well, of course you are, sweet girl. I can see that . . . We all are, in one way or another. That is not something I can help with.” 

“Can you help me with anything at all?” the girl’s desperation started to surface once again. 

The woman seemed enchanted by her young guest. “Hmm . . . no,” she replied. 

The girl ground her teeth until her prevailing sadness extinguished the flame within her. She remained silent as she slumped to the dirt, defeated.

A black wolf appeared from behind them and approached the woman. The animal licked her cheek as she scratched its head. She then gave it a warm kiss before it stealthily charged for the fawn. The girl watched in horror as the predator ripped the life from the baby deer, bit by bit. The woman, however, smiled . . . ever so faintly. 

“What is wrong with you?” the young girl demanded. 

The woman turned to face her. She stared deep within the naïve soul, emanating a remorseless calm. “I have done everything I can, for you and for all. I have given you this world and everything in it. Yes, you are alone, and you will always be alone. No one will ever come to help you. Now, let me ask you this, sweet girl . . . will that stop you? Will that prevent you from taking what you want and becoming who you want to be? You have everything you need. I cannot give you what you want, but you can. So, go . . . and take it.” The woman let out a lovely smile that warmed even the young girl’s lonely heart. Then, she began to evaporate into the thick forest air, and her green vapor, like wisps, frolicked toward the sky. The young girl furrowed her brows, clenched her fists, and dried her tears. She then continued, no destination in mind. 

The young soul wandered aimlessly, driven by a surge of newfound confidence. She stalked the land until she became one with the beasts and world around her. She no longer focused solely on her troubles, and instead embraced her current reality. She approached a lone hare with an overwhelming amount of white in its eyes. She stared at it, intrigued when it did not attempt to flee from her presence.

A moment passed, and something triggered the animal’s instincts. It bolted away, and the girl heard a commotion in the distance. Not soon after, a fox, a few raccoons, and a pair of deer raced through the scene. The girl’s fire dwindled down to a mere spark. The sky became grey and the surrounding trees began to turn black. A hollow wind picked up and whispered to the girl, her nightmares. 

In the eye of the storm was a large, ferocious bear, ethereal as a spirit, and yet, like other living things, still hindered by matter. The bear carried scars and serrated marks down its ribs and back, and a crooked slash split the two halves of its face down the middle. The monstrosity’s eyes were red, with minuscule beady pupils that sporadically rattled to the rhythm of its steps. 

“What is this?” the menacing beast articulated. “A little firefly lost in the dark?  Tell me . . . who are you?” the bear requested with a resounding bass in his voice that sent shockwaves down her spine. 

The young girl clenched her fists and remained silent. 

“No name, little firefly?” he continued as he began to slowly circle her with predatory aggression. “Are you scared?” 

The girl wrinkled her face at the suggestion. “No,” she stated earnestly. 

The bear cracked a belligerent smile. “Good, good . . . I don’t always look like this, you know. I have worn many different faces. Sometimes, I have no face at all, and sometimes, I look like you . . . but I have been everywhere, and I’ve seen everything. I do not choose my forms, or my time and place. Maybe you are not lost . . . maybe you were looking for me?” the bear insisted while circling her, forcing the girl to turn with him. 

“Who are you?” she demanded. 

“You spoke to the woman with red hair and the man with the clock . . . I can smell them still. What did they tell you?” the bear asked. 

The girl dropped her gaze to the dirt. “Not much . . .” she grudgingly responded. 

The bear’s haunting chuckle seemed to originate from the pits of some hellish abyss as a cruel black mist started to permeate the air around him. The sound shook her very bones. “I am their result. I am their call. I am their answer. The forces of this world eventually spin in my direction. And those who fight me . . . they end up losing so much more than what was originally at stake. You cannot hide in the dark, little firefly, nor can you prevent me.” 

The creature stopped in its tracks and began to approach the frightened girl. “This isn’t the end . . . but it is for you . . .” he growled, guttural and sad.

“NO!” the girl roared, though part of her knew it was in vain. 

The creature responded with a concerned look. 

“. . . not today,” she continued. 

“You think you have a say?” the bear asked.

The salty water from the girl’s tear ducts streamed down her face and the breeze left the tracks colder than they were before. “. . . I’m not ready.” she admitted, burdened with the tragic reminder of insignificance. 

“No one ever is, little firefly . . . but that makes little difference,” he responded genuinely. The girl felt as she did before, alone, lost, and in need of help. “There is nothing to fear. I can help you . . . I can give you everything you ever wanted. I can give you . . . peace.” Her foe had changed his tone to an empathetic one, and his pupils rattled slightly less. 

The wising youth wiped her face and dried her sorrow. “. . . I don’t need help. I never did.” 

Her enemy inched closer in response. “Whether that’s true or not . . . I don’t have a say either, little firefly.” As he stepped ever closer to his prey, the hare from before jolted through the bear’s legs and vanished in the brush. The commotion distracted the beast and allowed the girl to seize the moment. 

She ran with everything she had, and yet she could hear the creature’s paws pounding closer and closer, easily outpacing her. Up ahead, she saw a chain-link fence strangled with vines and withered by age. The fence was too high, but she spied an opening in it that she fit through perfectly. The metal barbs slashed her skin as she slid through, but freedom numbed the pain. She turned to face her pursuer on the other side of the fence.

Through the chain-link grid, the beast admired her with a tilted head.  “I see you. What you will do . . . who you will become. I can see it so clearly now, in your eyes. I am impressed. You will go far, and you will forget all about this forest . . . the woman with red hair . . . the man with the clock . . . and me.” The bear suddenly carved out a nightmarish grin. “But we will see each other again . . . little firefly.” On that note, the beast turned and disappeared into the forest. As he left, the trees regained their green, and the sky its blue. 

Again, the girl wandered aimlessly until the edge of the forest felt near. She rushed toward the echoes of society. Through the trees, beyond a road, was the world she once knew, the world she’d abandoned, the world of floating vehicles, advertising holograms, and people.