Young Writers Society

It was easy to get lost. That was what they had said, and they had been right.

With little sense of fear gripping him, only a deep frustration at the stubbornness of his own will, Louis made his way through the lower halves of immense trees, which were barely visible in the bleary twilight. The breeze that had before whipped at his light jacket and made the hair on his arms stand up from its cool ferocity had all but disappeared; the overpowering smell of damp wood clogged the air, leaving no room for the wind. It squeezed at the collar of his shirt, trying desperately to suffocate him in the humidity that seemed to weigh down even the sweet smell of minty pine, which proved to be the only true comfort in the dense trees that surrounded him. As he trudged ahead, aimlessly, the tall trees seemed to grow closer: not thicker, just closer. Their lowest branches towered to no less than thrice his height, and he was close to six feet. A soft bed of pine needles cushioned each of his footfalls, sending a minute crunch up his shivering legs and to the shadowed face perched high on his neck, hoping for a glimpse of light (anything to suggest civilization, for that matter) through the infinite trunks of soft, wet wood. In its absence, the wind left only the warm water that served as air, giving him what felt like a sort of invisible Closter phobia in his throat. Any moment now, he was sure of this, the air would become to much like liquid to breath, and not even his struggling gasps to find oxygen would save him then. A thin layer of sweat now covered his face, flooding in individual, unpleasantly warm streams over the barricades that served as the bars of his glasses. Sticking to him in ugly protest, his t-shirt clung to his chest, soaked thoroughly from both the unworldly humidity of the place and his jog, which now resembled more of a run; his fear rose as the last glimpse of sweet orange glimmer took its leave of the forest, leaving the boy to fend for himself in the empty darkness among the sinister cackle of crickets.

Finally, Louis stopped. It was sudden, and his glasses threatened to jump off his face. Removing them carefully, he sighed while wiping the sweat-smeared lenses with one of the rare dry part of his shirt, which would have been laborious to find even in the sunlight. Patiently placing the metal wire back onto the bridge of his nose, he squinted and looked around, determined to get out but still frightened out of his mind. With the darkness came a void, shredding through all the humidity of the prior storm and leaving nothing but cool air, which looked almost translucent in the dim moonli-

“Moonlight?!” Louis shouted in no more than a distraught whisper. “It was bright out only ten minutes ago!” He was not quite sure why he whispered, only that it was the right thing to do.

Looking up, mouth agape, he shuddered at the sight of the vast sea of stars stretched out above him, threatening at any moment to rain down in fire and ice simultaneously, drowning him in their infiniteness. More brilliant pulses littered the night sky than he had ever seen before, and yes, they pulsed. With horror, contemplating the possibility that he was no longer sane, that he had gone completely and utterly crazy from the terror he now felt, Louis gazed up at the vast stage laid out before him. Mesmerized, he realized the whitish yellow of the stars had overtaken the sheet of black space, creating streams and lakes of milky light, and still the universe pulsed!

And then, everything inversed. At first, he almost didn’t notice the change, as he was looking up, and the epic struggle between the empty black of space and the brilliant light of the stars had no clear leader, but soon the tops of the trees at the edges of his vision grasped his attention, wrenching the crowded stage above him from his mind. Before, they had held a monotonous pale white cast down upon them from the stars and the moon, but now they shone the darkest, smoothest black he had ever seen, silhouetted against the intense, dusty white of the air. Actually, in his stunned gaze, the splatter of trees around him looked no less empty and infinite than the spaces between the stars above him. He felt that if he were to walk up and lay a hand on one of the silky trunks, it would simply disappear from existence.

The air, which was somehow opaque and transparent at the same time, made him think of a three-dimensional chalkboard that he could move through. Off in the distance, what had first been orange sunlight and then merely a black horizon, now illuminated itself into the most brilliant white light he had ever seen, almost sparking in its intense radiance. He diverted his eyes instinctively, although it caused him no pain to look at the shimmering sunburst that lay just beyond reach. The ground took on the same black emptiness as the trees; while he was startled into jumping clear off the ground, when he came back down his feet planted firmly on the nothingness. All sound was gone, even the persistent chirping of crickets.

In one instant that could have taken a year in Louis’s wonder, the air resumed its thick, humid feeling, once again attempting to strangle the life out of his throat. He blinked fearfully, still unable to catch his breath, even though his terrified run seemed like ages ago. What is going on? Am I actually seeing this?

And then he came.

What appeared to be a man of no more than thirty-five stood directly in front of Louis, cutting off the dazzling horizon. His color resembled that of Louis, in that it was unaltered, strikingly different from the voids of trees surrounding them. His black coat reached down to his shins, stretched thin over a plain, yet powerful looking suit of blue. Wearing a sweet smile, the tall man gazed down at Louis, making him feel like nothing more than a terrified child. Although, he did find something soothing in that simple grin….

“Hello Louis,” the man said. His voice reminded Louis of melted chocolate rubbing off onto a finger in the middle of a bright summer day. The smile remained perched under the high-set, warm eyes. “If you are looking for a way out, I would be happy to help.”

Then something changed, much like the forest had. The mysterious man now lost all of the warm, kind look in his eyes, and it was replaced with emptiness. The same emptiness, in fact, as the trees around them and the ground under their shoes. Threatening to devour him, the deep, hungry gaze fed off Louis, clawed at his face and demanded that their eyes stay locked. Without struggling, Louis let those eyes drag him in. He felt serenity overpower him; he released all fear he held. It was relaxing, it was soothing, it was-

And suddenly he was sprinting, running as fast and as far as he could, never looking back, never allowing his racing mind to contemplate the thing that had just happened or the man that had offered his help. Dodging trees mindlessly, making a wayward path through the forest, he felt his heart pound at his ribcage, threatening to rip free right out of his chest. Pounding hard on the pine needles, his feet sent the same small crunch piercing through the returned crickets. The air unnoticeably retuned to the coolness of night and he could breath well again, even in his sprint. After no less than ten minutes of horrified running, he was out. The small-town lights sent sparkles of relief up to him as he held his knees catching his breath, the monstrous trees looming behind him, illuminated in the pale moonlight. A smile broke his gasps for air.

What they had said was true. It was easy to get lost