Douai

Douai: A Short Story

The forest shimmered with ethereal dust. Hiding the horizon, its magnitude was both contained and endless. Tree trunks curved, drooped, and cracked. Their leaves, never touching, canopied the great blue sky. Sun burst through the small but plentiful gaps, giving way to a mismatch of fallen trunks, crooked branches, rocks, and, tucked up in a tree deep in the forest, a young boy.

Nestled under nature’s blanket, he gently rubbed his eyes awake. The immediate sun, bright as it was, failed to intimidate the young boy’s vision. The forest had spoken, and it was time to play.

Resting on his chest was a necklace. An amber charm shaped like a tree dangled from the thin, brown strap. Squinting as it twinkled in the sun, he tried to read the inscription, hoping that today was the day he could finally understand the message it contained. Sighing in disappointment, he pulled himself from his bed. Landing without a noise, his bare, dirty feet grazed the uneven ground. The boy effortlessly tumbled through the wild bushes and slid under crooked branches that adorned his home. A fox’s tail, caught in his eye’s corner, flashed through a bush a mere stone’s throw from the boy. The forest, aching for a soundboard, seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. The leaves whispered. Birds dispersed.

He was headed for his favourite place in all the forest – the fallen tree. Taking a shortcut, he slid through a small gap in a holly bush, springing back to his feet without a scratch. His long chestnut hair, matted from sleep, wisped behind him as he flew across the ground. Gliding through the trees and bushes, he paused to observe the signpost he had designated for the fallen tree – the berry bushes. Filling his pouch with blueberries, raspberries, and a handful of nearby conkers strown on the floor, he set off once again. Knowing the fallen tree was just around the corner, he slowed. Emerging from the berry bushes, he made his way onto the main pathway. The trees hung over the path, protecting the forest from the sizzling heat of a summer’s day. The boy felt safe.

The mesh of mismatching trees and bushes had given way to a huge open space filled with an immense variety of landscapes, each one a secret waiting to be explored. The wide pathway remained clear, the boy realised, no matter the antics he and his friends got up to. It gently snaked around the corner. He kept walking; his feet desperate to not cause the forest any distress.

“I should be there by now,” the boy remarked to himself before swiftly moving on, marching forward for several minutes. Confusion soon gave way to joy. The corners of his remarkably clean lips ran to his cheeks as the forest gave up its prized treasure.

The trees had departed, as if they were mourning a loved one. In their place was a cove, defined by a gentle slope adorned with an uncountable number of brown, crumpled leaves. At the bottom of the cove, deep green grass blades rose through the rubble, bringing some daisies with them to act as a fence. At the end of this green fencing lay the fallen tree. Propped up by the slope, a mighty oak displayed itself with ancient pride. Frayed at both ends, its leaves had fallen many years ago. Moss grew across its sun-facing side, while thorns wrapped themselves around the perfectly centred, portrait-style hole. Its bark frayed and jaunted. It bore the weight of age with innate elegance far beyond the boy’s understanding. It was here that his friends gathered.

Three scruffy, unruly young boys were waiting. Sitting on the rocks just outside the tree’s main entrance was the boy’s best friend, Zeke, whose smile glistened as much as his skin.

“Labby!” He exclaimed. “What took you so long?” Labby was a name affectionally earned after a blonde streak of hair had been compared to a golden Labrador, Zeke’s pet dog. Labby didn’t like it much, not least because he was not blonde, as he insisted (to his detriment). But he didn’t mind. He was just glad to see his friend. Sat nearby were Rome, a shy boy who lived on a huge farm, and Jake, another quiet soul with raging-red hair.

“I *literally* ran,” Labby protested. He wasn’t sure why it had taken so long. Rome let out a wry smile. Jake chortled slightly.

“I did!” Labby asserted once more. Bonded by what felt like years of forest-dwelling, they scarcely needed words to communicate. The boys started scanning the forest for their next building site.

“There,” Zeke said, pointing slightly to his left. Tracking his friend’s surprisingly clean finger, Labby saw a clearing amongst some trees. Each boy looked at the other, all eyes suspiciously darting like a bunch of cowboys waiting to draw their pistols. Their legs cocked, waiting for someone to move first. Then, with a dart invisible to the human eye, each boy sprinted to the clearing as if his life depended on it. No one would be the rotten egg today, it seemed. Naturally, Labby got there marginally ahead of Zeke, followed by Jake. Rome had lost interest halfway through the spontaneous race and, in true farmyard fashion, had already gathered a full stack of logs. The boys got to work. Logs were tied together and fashioned into makeshift walls within the hour. After all, this wasn’t the forest boys’ first rodeo. In fact, this was all they knew.

As the boys finished construction, Labby dished out some of the berries he had sourced earlier. They then played a round of conkers. Zeke won, as usual. He held a monopoly over this game, yet Labby always felt he could win. After the den was finished, Labby knew there wasn’t much else to do.

Before too long, the boys grew tired. Labby, in particular, began to feel empty, as his face slowly dropped. Sleep had evaded him in the previous week. Endlessness was calling, wrapping itself around the monotony of Labby’s life. His mood, built up with each log, began to wash away. The sense of achievement he felt after completing a new den was replaced by the encroaching forest, unerring in its stillness. No one said anything because they saw it on Labby’s face. To the others, their friend was complex. In one breath, he flies through the trees like a ripple through water, yet, in the next, it’s dragging him under. For Labby, it was simple; he was done. The joy of the forest had expired.

Yet, he felt intensely conflicted. Gone was the shimmer that welcomed him into the day. In its wake, prickly shadows encroached on the starry night sky. The unerring yet devilishly mystical echo that typified the forest transformed into a reverberating cave, cold in its reception. Here, the darkness went through his eyes and settled under his skin.

Making his way back down the path towards his bed, the hairs on Labby’s skin pricked up, as if they were waving at the increasingly nervous young boy. With a ghostly breath, a gust of wind lifted some leaves and branches off the ground. The trees bristled. Foxes took their food into the bushes, while a murder of crows was a shadow burnt into the evening sky. Strange, Labby pondered.

“The crows…” he whispered. “They’re still”, he thought to himself, careful not to speak the words into existence. With a half-hearted sigh, he told himself it was nothing. For Labby, there was another day of den-building to look forward to, so once he reached his tree, he climbed up, nestled in the self-built cove, and closed his eyes.

His eyes gently opened. Weird, he thought. “I must have a few hours left,” he mumbled confidently. He tries to fall asleep again, but he can’t relax. Labby felt a shiver on the wind rising around him, forcing his eyes open as he sat bolt upright. He frantically looked around, searching for the forest floor. But there was nothing. Iridescent sunlight was replaced by a darkness found deep in the ocean. It was a darkness the forest had shielded him from. Up until now, at least. Panic exploded in his gut before sweeping through his body as if the forest itself were in flames.

“Am I…,” he stuttered. “Why can’t I see?!” he pleaded, his breath getting more desperate by the second. Instinctively, he reached for his necklace, clasping it firmly in his hand. He then looked to the sky, searching for answers in the stars. They, too, had vanished, rubbed from the galaxy. Even the moonlight had disappeared.

For the first time, Labby didn’t know what to do. More worrying, he didn’t know what the forest wanted from him. In a state of confusion, he tumbled out of his bed, landing with an unbecoming thud. He felt unusually heavy as he stumbled and tripped through bushes and tree stumps. The forest had changed, it seemed. Tumbling out of the familiar rose bush, he paused. Sat upright, with his legs wide open, he noticed his khaki shorts had torn, and his dirty green t-shirt was missing a sleeve. Labby had no time to revel in the relief of his working vision because his eyes quickly locked onto what looked like fallen wood.

“Surely not!” Labby exclaimed, darting towards what remained of the den he and his friends had built earlier in the day. Aghast, his brain started to churn. Realisation swept across his face, his eyes darting in all directions. Every single den had been decimated. Logs, leaves and stones were strewn out everywhere, leaving a trail of destruction. It was then, and only then, that Labby felt like he was being watched. The darkness seemed to be encroaching. The never-ending forest shrank; its walls pushed Labby deeper into fear’s cold embrace.

Searching for answers, he called out to his friends.

“JAKE! ROME!” he shouted. “ZEKE?! WHERE ARE YOU?” he begged.

The forest kept its cards close. As he grew increasingly desperate, he finally began questioning the light source.

“Of course,” he muttered. It was coming from the fallen tree. A white light was bursting through the portrait-style hole, searing Labby’s eyes, forcing him to thrust his arm in front of his face. It was as if the sun had settled in the forest’s core. Labby wished his friends could be here to see, partly because he was scared, but also for the thrill.

Gingerly, he walked forward. Each step was measured, ensuring he didn’t slip on one of the logs that littered the ground. As he got closer, the light revealed a gentle hum, as if it were echoing, calling out for someone. He stepped through the hole and into the fallen tree. Inside the enormous trunk, there lay a boy, no older than Labby. He was crying while holding his chest, seemingly protecting a wound. He knelt down to the boy’s side, planting his knee with assurance. The light thrummed as he knelt.

Then, just as he noticed the foxes scurrying into bushes earlier that evening, he caught a flash of amber glowing in the boy’s hand. He wasn’t protecting a wound. He recognised that necklace anywhere. As a young boy, Labby’s mother had given it to him just before she died, but amongst the incomprehensible pain of grief, he had lost it.

The light thrummed ferociously, sending a blinding wave that pulsated from the boy and washed over Labby. He looked down at his hands. He accepted his transformation into an adult man without protest.

The man knew what to do. “Labby,” he calls out, as he gently cups the back of the glowing boy’s head. The small, shadowy figure turns, recognising his name. As the tears stopped, the man picked up the young boy and carried him out of the tree.

With ease, the man stooped through the gap, emerging with purpose. Boots firmly planted on the ground, he briefly assessed the forest. The birds were chirping, and the trees were mighty. Squinting, he was certain he could see a den in the distance.

In his next breath, the man felt a tear pool in the bottom of his eye, before it gently dropped down to the ground. One knee perched on the damp grass, he rests his shaky hand on the tree where his mother’s ashes are scattered. He took a deep breath. He felt her soul embossed in the tree’s roots.

As she grew aware of her fate, the man recalled, she requested that her ashes be scattered at the foot of this beautiful, fallen tree, where he would spend hours traversing the universe. The floor would glow red hot from the lava, or perhaps stones would form a path across shark-infested waters. Every summer, the man recalled, he and his friends would build dens to protect themselves from the forest's mystical dangers. His mum was always there, watching, loving.

As he examined the same bark she would rest her head against after an exhausting day’s work, the man imagined how she’d feel, working in a job she hated, just to watch her son fall off a tree over and over again. He thanked her through time, knowing she’d do it all again if she could.

As it so often does, the cruelty of her passing flushed through the man’s body, causing his knuckles to curl slightly. Her death was expected. In a way, she had time to prepare, he assumed. But he didn’t. During some of the worst moments, when young Labby felt scared and confused, he would retreat to the forest, finding refuge in the fallen tree his mum had shown him all those years ago. But things changed. When she died, so did the boy. Young Labby was gone, robbed of a mother. The man was all that remained.

“Sorry, mum," the man said, slightly crestfallen.

“I should’ve come sooner, but I hope you’ll forgive me. You see, I have brought someone who wants to meet you”, he added. He turned to his left, expecting to see his two-year-old daughter. He briefly panicked before spotting her emerging from a pile of leaves a few meters away. Her dark, curly hair was protruding from a tiny orange hat covered with daisies. Her mother’s favourite.

“Daddy, look what I found,” she said with pride, completely unaware of where she was. In her tiny orange glove, she held a necklace with an amber pendant in the shape of a tree. Brushing off the dirt, he read the inscription.

Never stop climbing.

His mum’s final and everlasting message. Lost in time, found again. Feeling overcome with beautiful yet overwhelming grief, he looked down into his daughter’s eyes. He saw the fear, hope, and wonder he left behind in this very forest all too soon. His mum had been here, all this time, protecting young Labby, waiting for the man to collect him. And here he was. Ready to start all over again.