In A Dark Forest

Eleven year-old Emma Rosewood stared out the window, searching the dark forest. Only minutes ago she had seen a bright red flash, and was waiting to see it again. Emma wondered what it had been. She knew it was ridiculous, but she couldn’t stop herself from hoping it was magic. It could be, though, right? She was just starting to turn away from the window when she saw another flash—it was in the same spot, this time blue. Emma stared hard out into the dark night again. Nothing. Should I go or stay? Emma frowned, then made her decision. She would wait till everyone was asleep, then sneak out to look. Her parents said they shouldn’t go out into the forest at night, saying it was too risky. Bears and bobcats and raccoons and stuff. But Emma wasn’t that worried—she could fight. Or run. Although neither would probably come in handy with a bear. She wasn’t supposed to run from a bear. Or fight one. Running probably wouldn’t work with a bobcat, either. Emma snorted, turned away from the window, and looked around her room. There was the door on the opposite side, towards the left corner, her closet to the right of that, and the window behind her. Emma’s desk rested in the corner to her left, made of smooth wood. Right now her desk was a mess—papers were scattered everywhere on top of it, along with her desk lamp, pencils, erasers, and books. Her chair was pushed away from the desk, and Emma’s bed was towards her right, in the corner. The window was positioned above the foot of her bed. Then there was her nightstand next to it, with her lamp, more books and papers scattered on it, some covering her alarm clock. Emma sighed and pushed the papers aside to look at the time, 9:27 pm. Not much longer till she could sneak out. Emma hurried across the room to the closet, threw open the doors, and grabbed her backpack. She jogged back to her bed, sat down on it next to the whitewashed nightstand, and jerked open the top drawer. Jerked too hard. The handle came off. Emma groaned and put the handle on top of the nightstand. It happened all the time. She wanted her dad to fix it, but he never did. It was probably her fault though, considering she always forgot to ask him to. Emma finished prying the drawer open, and fished out her flashlight. It was a heavy duty one, very bright. She clicked it on, then off. Emma dropped the flashlight in the big part of her backpack. A knock came from the door. Emma quickly shoved the backpack under her bed and grabbed a random book on her nightstand, opening it as if she had been reading.

“Come in!” she called. The door opened and her mom poked her head in. She looked like she was about to say something, but closed her mouth and frowned.

“Emma, why are you reading a school book during summer break? Upside down?” she raised an eyebrow.

“What?” Emma glanced down at the book in her hands. It was, indeed, a school book. Upside down. Emma’s cheeks burned.

“Um… when I was reading it a while ago, I had found a cool fact that I liked, so I’m trying to find it again. I forgot part of it.”

“But why’s it upside down?”

“Uh… uh…” Emma felt trapped. “I was just looking at this picture upside down. It looks cool upside down.” Emma looked down at the book again. There were no pictures on that page. Oops.

“OK. I can believe that.” Emma’s mother nodded thoughtfully. “Anyway, I came up here to say goodnight.”

They lived in a two-story house, and Emma’s room was on the second floor. Oddly, her parents’ bedroom was on the first floor.

“Goodnight.” Emma hurried over and hugged her mom.

“Your dad’ll come up in a minute. Goodnight.”

“’Night.” Emma’s mom left and closed the door softly behind her. Emma exhaled. She hurried back to her bed, closed the school book and glanced at the cover. It was a science book, her least favorite subject. Besides math, of course. Her cheeks reddened and she quickly placed it on her nightstand, then left the room, shutting off the light as she left. Emma started down the stairs and nearly ran into her dad.

“Goodnight, dad.” Emma hugged him.

“Goodnight, Em. See you in the morning.” His mission complete, Emma’s dad tramped down the stairs and stopped. “I almost forgot!” he chuckled. “I didn’t say ’night to your brothers.”

Emma nodded and continued down the stairs. As she descended the steps, there was a loud creak. Emma groaned and lifted her foot, carefully stepping over the squeaky board. That step had been creaky ever since they had moved to the house three years ago. She ran a hand through her dark brown hair and sighed, then stepped into the living room. There was a thick rug lying in the middle of the floor, the large bookshelves against the right wall, and the floor-to-ceiling windows to her left looking out into a silent, empty, dark yard. There were messy hedges—boxwood—that needed trimming, sitting below the windows. Between the back of the room and the middle of the room there was the gray couch, and against the far wall the large black TV was hung on the wall, the entertainment cabinet sitting on the floor below, covered with even more books, movies, remote controls and a few stray CDs. There was a thickly cushioned chair in the corner to Emma’s left, occupied by an older boy, fifteen years old, engrossed in a book. He looked up as Emma entered the lighted room, but quickly went back to reading when he saw it was her. It was Emma’s older brother, Patrick.

“Hello to you too.” Emma planted herself in front of the chair. Patrick grunted. He buried himself deeper into the cushions and lifted the book higher. Emma reached out one finger and pulled the book down. Patrick peered up at her. He was tall, but slouched in the chair he was much shorter then Emma.

“Time for bed.” Emma let go of the book, turned, and walked away. He would come, she knew. He always did. Patrick was a great sibling. He was pretty quiet, and would play games often with her. Her other two siblings were James and Sam, ages four and six. They were impossible. Behind her, Emma heard Patrick standing and following her, still reading his book. Emma rolled her eyes. He was always buried in his book, but, to be fair, she was a lot, too. But this night, the strange blue flash in the forest had distracted her from her book. She could hardly wait to get out to the forest to check it out. Emma jumped up the stairs two at a time, and when she reached the top, looked back down the carpeted stairs. Patrick was just reaching the first step, and, being so engrossed in his book, tripped and nearly fell on his face. But he caught himself and the book, saved his spot, pushed his glasses back into place, and, tucking the book under his arm, Patrick continued to ascend the steps gracefully. He nodded to her once and passed to his room, just as dad stepped out of Emma’s younger brothers’ room, closing the door quietly behind him. He was smiling. He saw Patrick and caught him in a bear hug. Dad was tall, that’s why Patrick and Emma were tall as well, but Patrick was taller, even if by just an inch or two. Emma slipped into her room, flipped the light switch back on, and jumped into her desk chair, sending it rolling into the wall. What else might I need for my ‘adventure’? she wondered. Probably some rope, ooh, my camera, what else? I most likely won’t need rope, but just in case. OK, now I’m being slightly ridiculous. I don’t need rope. And then I can bring my walking stick… that could come in handy in case I run into something. But I don’t think I’ll be attacked by anything. Emma had looked up what to do if a bear attacked you—her mother had made her and her brothers do it when they first moved here. Stay calm, pretend you’re bigger then you are, don’t run away, play dead—that sort of stuff. But Emma had also seen that the chance of being attacked by a bear was like your chances of being killed by a bee. Emma moved to the window and looked out. Her parents had never let them wander far into the woods. She wondered why. It wouldn’t just be because of the bears and bobcats and raccoons, right? She didn’t see any of the flashes of light she had seen earlier. Emma flopped down on her bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. She was still dressed, jeans, a T-shirt, and a light sweater.

“Oh.” Emma threw off the covers, hurried to the door, and shut off the light. Then she climbed back into bed and pulled the covers back up to her chin—still fully dressed—and didn’t fall asleep. After twenty or so minutes, Emma was yawning and trying not to fall asleep. And very bored. She waited another minute, listening, pinching herself every so often to keep awake. She heard nothing. Emma finally crept out of bed, out of her room, down the hall to Patrick’s room, and peeked in. He was sound asleep, snoring. Emma checked on her other two brothers. They were fast asleep, both of them in James’s bed, hugging each other. Emma chuckled softly to herself and closed the door. She peered down the stairs, listening carefully. Not one sound. Not one light. Emma hurried back to her room and checked the time. 9:58. Practically ten o’clock. Emma pulled her backpack from under the bed, grabbed her camera, a small, but good, camera that had never failed her—in the last month she had owned it. It took good pictures in the dark, even without the flash on. Emma tucked it in one of the small pouches in her pack. The rope was in the shed outside. What else? Camera, flashlight, oh! My watch! Emma didn’t particularly like wearing it (it was uncomfortable) but she didn’t have anything else to tell the time with that would be convenient out in the woods. Out in the woods. The thought gave Emma chills. She started to wonder if this was such a good idea after all. Then the other part of her brain said, there’s nothing wrong with going out into the woods at night. I’m sure there isn’t even any bears or raccoons or bobcats or any other animal that might harm you out there. That was the side some people might consider bravery… although Emma wasn’t sure how much of that was actually bravery. She found her watch in her nightstand drawer and strapped it onto her right wrist (she was left handed). She also found a partially used notebook and added that to her bag, along with a sharpened pencil, eraser, and a pencil sharpener. She tossed a good compass in as well. Last but not least, Emma slid on her sneakers. They had a good grip on the bottom, comfortable soles and were great for climbing trees. Great for a tree-climbing girl. Emma swung her backpack onto her shoulders and tiptoed out of the room and down the stairs, stepping over one to avoid creaking the squeaky step. There were no lights on anywhere. Soft snoring came from the direction of her parents’ bedroom. They had fallen asleep quickly. Emma started for the back door. It would be easier to go out the front door so she didn’t have to walk around the house, but the shed was behind the house, where the rope was. A few minutes later, Emma was stealing through the woods, a long coil of nylon rope in her backpack. The flashlight and compass were in her hands. Emma headed in the general direction of the flashes. Twice more she had seen it, once just minutes ago, and the first when she had been rounding the house. Both had been red. She bounced the flashlight beam across the trees, trying to ignore the looming shape of the trunks and the brittle branches that reached out to grab her. So far, all she had heard was the crickets and the wind in the trees occasionally. The temperature was perfect for a midnight walk, needing only pants and a light sweater. After five minutes of walking (Emma was repeatedly checking her watch) she saw another flash of light, just up ahead, and heard voices. Taking care not to step on any dry leaves or twigs, Emma drew closer, and scrambled up a nearby tree. From her vantage point she could clearly see two men hunched in a clearing over a stump. They were arguing.

“You’re not supposed to do that!” cried one in dismay, the one in blue robes. The other wore red. Odd thing to be wearing, bathrobes. At least, that’s what I think they are.

“Do you think it’s wise to even do this so close to the house?” said the one in the red robes. Emma decided she would call him Red-Robes and the other Blue-Robes.

“Not with the way you’re doing it.” grumbled Blue-Robes. He muttered something to Red-Robes. Emma strained to hear, but couldn’t.

“Fine, fine,” said Red-Robes. He straightened up and mumbled something under his breath, stretching his hands out in front of him. A red glow started to get brighter, and brighter under his hands. Oh. Oh, wow. Is that… magic? It couldn’t be! Magic isn’t real! Or is it? Maybe there is a little magic, but we just can’t find it. Maybe because people are too busy with their everyday life and too busy thinking of themselves to actually stop and look. Or maybe… maybe people just didn’t want to believe, and by not wanting, eventually started to forget, and then, to them, it just… disappeared. Forever. Maybe magic is real, though, after all. Emma fumbled for her camera and turned it on, quickly snapping a few pictures of the men below her and the red glow. Then there was a burst of red light—the flashes she had seen, Emma realized—and the light disappeared.

“You did it again! Why? What is wrong with you?” snapped Blue-Robes. “Again.”

“But… what about the house? Couldn’t they see?” asked Red-Robes meekly.

“No, you fool. Get back to trying.” growled Blue-Robes.

“Why can’t you do it?” whined-Red Robes.

“Because I want a red one! The red ones are better. I can’t make a red one. So try again. You’re a sorry excuse for a wizard.”

A wizard… magic must be real! But how? How could I have never noticed it before? Emma took another picture of the men. Photography was one thing she was good at. She also liked drawing and reading. Focus, Emma! Red-Robes was trying again. The red glow became steadily brighter, and brighter. This time, he shifted, and Emma saw what was beginning to glow. It was a small, egg-shaped rock, no bigger then two quarters. Emma looked closer. No, not a rock—it was a real egg! That’s so cruel! The glow became brighter, and brighter, until the egg became unbearable to look at. Red-Robe’s muttering grew frenzied, and the look of greed in Blue-Robe’s eyes grew. Emma snapped more pictures. All the crickets in the area grew silent. Emma did too, growing rapt, even though she couldn’t look at the egg. Suddenly, the glow was gone, and Emma had to wait for her eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness.

“I did it! Ha ha! I have it at last!” cried Blue-Robes, dancing for joy.

“Uh…” Red-Robes scratched his head, “isn’t that mine, too? I made it.”

“No! I made you do it! You couldn’t have done it without me!” laughed Blue-Robes triumphantly. What is wrong with him? Emma wondered. That is so wrong… so selfish… so… evil. Then Emma saw the egg and gasped. It was a dark red, and over ten times its original size.

“Now, finish it.” Blue-Robes rubbed his hands together eagerly. Red-Robes started his mumbling again and stretched his hands over the strange egg. It started to glowing, though not as bright as before. When he stopped muttering, the glow faded and the egg started to shake and crack. Then it burst open, and Emma was staring at an odd creature, like a bat and a lizard mixed together. A dragon. It was magic. All my life I wanted to see real magic… now I finally have. It stretched its long, dark-red neck up. Blue-Robes said something, and the red dragon collapsed, snoring. Emma took more pictures.

“Hey!” protested Red-Robes.

“Needed to be done.”

“You’ll regret that.” Emma barely heard him speak. Red-Robes shouted something, and a bolt of red lighting raced down from the clouds and struck Blue-Robes. The air crackled with electricity. Emma gasped in horror as he collapsed and lay still on the cold ground. He was still breathing faintly. Red-Robes chuckled and said, “Now that I have the dragon, and you’re out of my way, everything’s mine.” He reached out a hand and rested it on the slumbering red dragon. His lips moved silently, and he and the dragon vanished. Emma had seen true magic—evil magic. Magic in a dark forest. She had always wanted magic to be real, but what these men did with it was almost unthinkable. Emma scrambled down from her hiding spot, raced towards her house, wishing she had never been there at all. But now she had proof—magic was real.