The Wood Cutter

By Jared Brown

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The dimming sunlight left the forest hidden in darkness as the sound of an ax splitting logs echoed throughout the ravine. The boy and his father worked tirelessly to bring in as much firewood as they could for the coming winter. Besides them, the forest was silent throughout. Calling out to the boy, the man began loading the wagon to head home for the night. The boy motioned for the man to head out without him so he could finish the last few logs and the man went on, leaving the boy to his work. Silence was what the boy craved, and the forest was the only place that silence existed, where he could be alone with his thoughts. Just he and his ax, his books and paper and pen hidden neatly in his bag. He listened to the echo of the ax reverberate throughout the forest as it wedged through log after log, making its way into the soil beneath. O! How poplar sounded as it gave way to the great heft of sharp steel. Rearing his ax and striking again and again was no chore for the boy, for the meditative clarity it brought his mind was incomparable. After a bit of time the boy finished his work, and, being too dark within the trees to pull out a book, took up his sack over his shoulder and started toward the edge of the wood. A menagerie of leaves crunched beneath his step as his eyes worked to keep him on the narrow path consumed by darkness. It was uncommon for the boy to leave the forest so late, but arriving behind the day left him little choice as his writing had preoccupied him. What an imagination he had! Thinking up stories of things unseen, lurking about the forests of his mind. For the boy, stories were of revered fascination, nothing compared. His mind wandered about stories like a cat slinking through the high grass in search of his prey, and how delicious the meal was when he captured it! Stumbling on a rock, the boy found he was back to reality where he failed to notice he had veered off his path. How long had he been going in the dark forest whilst dreaming of stories? Surely he should have reached the forest edge by now, but trees surrounded him in the pale moonlight. A sudden fear struck the boy, for everyone knows it's no good meandering about a forest at night. Snap! The boy froze as the sound of a stick breaking in the distance. He stood motionless, listening to the deafening silence of a wood occupied by not only he. All was silent with the exception of his pounding heart as it sought to remove itself from his chest. Leaves crunched and creaked as his feet willed themselves to move again, but which way should he go? The boy realized he had disoriented himself and did not know the direction from whence he came. He moved steadily, gripping his ax tight, his sack resting helplessly on his shoulder. Snap! Another stick snapped in the distance but closer than the last. The boy looked about frantically in a panicked search for the forest edge. In desperation he quenched his fear and kept moving. Snap! Snap! It was closer now, but still unseen though his tear-filled eyes. In terror, the boy began to run as he struggled to maintain his grasp on the ax with his sweaty hands. Snap! Snap! Snap! The sounds were all around him now. He let out a petrified shriek as he collided with a tree, striking at it with his ax. Pulling his ax from the tree he fell to the ground where he lay quivering in the dead Autumn leaves. All was silent, not a leaf rustled in the breeze, nothing. He lay there, gripping his ax with all his might as his body shook violently in the cold night. Seeking to regain some sort of composure, he closed his eyes as tight as he could, taking deep breaths. For a moment or so he felt calm, as if all of this was merely a product of his immense imagination. He was calm, he was, and so he rose to his feet, letting out a deep breath as he loosened his grip on the ax. Moving again, he felt himself at ease. How one's imagination can play tricks on him, he thought. Cautiously, he stepped through the trees, feeling his way as he searched the up-sloping earth in hope of leaving the ravine. Although he was somewhat embarrassed at himself for such folly in the dark forest, he smiled at the story he could tell his friends. What a laugh he'll have as they cower at such peril! A low, deep brrring stopped him. Looking toward the sound in the trees, he let out a horrified whimper of a scream as the branches above crunched and cracked and snapped. Among them were two bright yellow eyes in the solemn blackness of the night.