Fireflies in the Night

Before that day in June when I got lost, I’d never really been to the woods. They’d always been right there, within a hundred feet from our backyard, only a small field full of wildflowers, meadow grasses and nettles separating the two. I could see them through the window of the bedroom me and my younger sister shared and often lay in bed watching them in the early mornings. Before anyone else awoke, when everything was quiet and the sun was just starting to rise. The view was so enticing to me, I felt the field and the woods tug at my soul, wanted so badly to crawl from the bed and slip outside without a sound. Feel the morning dew seep into my clothes as I made my way across the field and the gentle heat from the first rays of sunlight upon my cheeks. And then the woods, rich green and mystical, moss growing on the barks of the trees. There was something magical hiding in them, something more than just the trees.

But the thing was that on their outskirts lay an old fence which my little sister frequently liked to tell me was both electric and cursed by the wood witches. Of course, I knew in my mind that she was full of nonsense, the imaginary games of a six year old, but in my body, I felt the truth of the tale haunt me and dared not venture further than halfway across the field. Until one morning when I woke up feeling particularly courageous. Today was the day I would go out and discover the secrets of the forrest.

Quietly, I left the bedroom and my sleeping sister behind, pulled on my boots and stepped into the mild morning air through the kitchen door. Past the garden, I timidly took a step into the field, a spark of joy awakening when I ran my hands through the dewy grass.

I had just passed the blackberry bush that marked the middle of the field when I noticed the woman. My stride quickly came to a halt, heart pounding and a qualm rising from the pit of my stomach. She was crouching in front of the fence and had her back to me, brown and unruly hair flowing down past the waist of her corn blue cotton dress. On the ground beside her lay a small toolbox. Surely, she must be one of the wood witches, strengthening the curse so that I could not pass; they had felt my energy shifting and knew I intended to trespass their property. The thought gave me a slight chill on top of the other anxious reactions and yet, I started walking again, heading straight towards the wood witch as if I had no fear whatsoever.

Hello! I said too loudly, intending to strike her as confident, perhaps startle her a bit. But she turned slowly and with a soft smile, of course, she had sensed me coming, knew I was there from the moment I stepped outside. But it did not frighten me as it would have moments before because her eyes, her warm brown eyes, which looked at me with so much kindness, did not allow for fear.

Good morning, she said cheerfully and turned back to the fence, which I could see now she was fixing. You’re up early, aren’t you!

It wasn’t a question but I answered anyway, telling her I was always up early.

I just never make it this far across the field, I added without thinking. I don’t know why I confessed this to her but she looked at me knowingly over her shoulder.

I can show you the woods if you’d like, she said and stood from her crouch, turning to face me. They’re really not too frightening once you get to know them.

How she knew of my fears seemed like sorcery to me, but like before, her eyes did not allow for fear to emerge. Even though, logically, I knew she might be luring me into the woods to make stew of me, I didn’t even feel a tremor of fright run through my small body. Instead, my longings to walk amongst the impossibly large trees amplified.

There’s a whole world waiting for you in there, she said, seemingly sensing the urge I had to enter, enticing me with confirmation of my secret suspicions; there was more to the woods than just trees. So when she reached out her hand I took it without hesitation, letting her lead me towards a small gate I’d never noticed before.

Following a stranger like this was very uncharacteristical for me but I didn’t even look back as the first trees welcomed us to their habitat. It wasn’t until we took our first turn that my eyes darted over my shoulder to where we had come from, but there wasn’t even a shadowy outline of my home there. Just trees upon trees upon trees. Was I even looking in the right direction? I glanced around, checking for a spot where more sunshine filtered through the woods but found none and realized with a start that I had no sense whatsoever of where we were or how long we had been walking. The trees had swallowed us whole and robbed me of my sense of the outside world.

It’s alright, the wood witch said, picking up on a sudden but subdued panic threatening to break loose in me. We’re nearly there.

I wanted to ask what ‘there’ was but then remembered the curious feeling of standing on the edge of the field, looking over to the other side, to the tall trees that guarded whatever was on the inside. That’s why I was here, to see the insides, to feel what it was like to walk amongst the guards. And it was beautiful, truly, truly beautiful. Full of the deepest greens I had ever seen, with occasional patches of white and purple flowers and streaks of sunlight breaking in between the large, leafy branches above. In them, you could see tiny insects dancing around like dust particles.

And then I heard the laughter. Ringing through the woods like bells, tugging on my curiosity. Still, I said nothing, just letting the feeling simmer, listening intently as we moved slowly but steadily towards it. Soon enough we walked upon its source in a small clearing and I drew a small giggling gasp when I saw. In the clearing, there were steaming pools in which children were playing, and on the other side, a path which led into another clearing. Through the trees, I could just about make out the silhouette of a stone house.

Do you live here? I asked the wood witch, looking around with a gaping mouth, and gasping again when I spotted a large treehouse built in a particularly large tree to the left of the pools.

I do, yes, she answered, smiling down to me, then asked if i would like to go play in the pools. The children looked up as we approached and seemed more than happy to welcome me, so I nodded and, after carefully laying my clothes on the ground, ran into the warm water.

Without consciously thinking about it, I became part of life in the woods - bathing with the children in the hot springs, hanging laundry up to dry on lines strung between sturdy branches, eating dinners filled with laughter, surrounded by fireflies. At dusk, we lit fires in a pit behind the stone house and the wood witch told us stories, she had an endless stream of them in her mind and never told the same tale twice. I did not forget my home or my family but the fact that they existed somewhere without me did not seem important. I would get back to them later, I felt it in my gut.

I was right, although just as my accidental stumble into the forrest life, it was pure happenstance that I found my way back out. I was out on my own, picking mushrooms from the forrest ground, my chore for the day, when I suddenly realized I was lost. With a jolt of fear, which had become quite unfamiliar to me during my time in the woods, I looked around but found no familiar things. Not the tree with the tiny hole in it or the one with the broken branch, nor the wildflower meadow with a patch of orange flowers in the middle. My bearings completely lost I let out a small cry before remembering that there wasn’t anything to be afraid of. I didn’t know how long I’d been in the woods, but during that time I’d learned that they were really just the same as the world outside, only the slightest bit darker.

So I started walking, and surprisingly quickly, arrived at the edge of the field behind my home. I looked back over my shoulder in disbelief, not looking for anything in particular, then back at the house. Smoke was slithering out of the chimney and the smell of freshly baked bread had made its way across the small field, pulling me towards it. As I passed through the gate, I felt a sense of victory; the next time my little sister was blathering about the wood witches and the fence, I could now tell her that she was wrong. The fence was neither electric nor cursed.

When I opened the door and called out a hello, my mother came to greet me from the kitchen, smiling at me softly and pulling me into her arms.

Have you been out all day? she asked as she cupped my face, leaning down to kiss my forehead. The question surprised me for only a second, before I realized that of course, time went by differently in the realm of the wood witch. I had spent days in there, I was sure of that, but outside, only one had passed.

I was playing in the woods, I said, nodding.

Well, you’re just in time for dinner. How does eating in the garden sound? We could light a fire in the pit if you’d like.

I followed her back to the kitchen and helped her carry plates and glasses to the table outside, which looked remarkably similar to the one the wood witch had. After dinner, when the fire was going strong and we had marshmallows roasting on sticks in it, I sat in my chair and looked over to the field, to the start of the tree line. I thought I saw a familiar shadow there, standing by the fence, a flurry of fireflies circling around it, but I wasn’t sure. In any case, I felt no fear in my heart. Only a sense of comfort.