One Final Trick

One Final Trick

Ever since returning from the woods when she was a young girl of 8, Grannie had spoken no words. Her horrible, empty eyes looked too cracked and shattered to see the world, something about her that was too hurt and haunted from some terror long ago that seemed to constantly live in that unspeakably awful moment that had passed so far back, so much so that the woman could no longer continue in the present. She was broken beyond repair, an empty shell of what she once was. But twice, she managed to glue the pieces of herself back together to speak.

The first was when Red was born. The girl was ordinary, doing nothing that was odd for newborns to do; she shrieked and sobbed loud enough to give her parents a headache, at least.

But Grannie seemed to see something different about the girl, not through her shattered eyes but through some ethereal, otherworldly sense that everyone possesses but no one can explain. For the moment her son and his wife gently held the cloth-swathed baby in front of Grannie, she raised her head a tiny bit from her pillow and raised a purple-veined, wrinkly old hand to point feebly at the infant. Her cracked lips moved together to form a few fateful words: "She must go to the woods. When I say. When she is ready."

And so the parents waited.

Of course, you may think it is strange that the parents would believe the words of a senile old woman, but it was not strange for them.

You see, it was said that this family would one day have a child that could get through the woods, up the mountain, to the the paradise, the unimaginable amazing place that existed at the peak. So far, no one had succeeded. Countless children had been found wandering their way back down the mountain, too broken by some unknown horror to operate, much less speak. They were only known to speak twice; to, much later on, point out which child would next venture through the woods when the time came, and to say when that time had came.

The second time Grannie spoke was on Red's 8th birthday. As Red was sitting by the hearth, a now-unwrapped box with the gift of a small, bright red cloak inside it, when Grannie raised her head from her pillow, turning towards Red, her finger turning towards the small girl.

Red tensed, knowing enough to realize what was going to happen next.

Grannie croaked out the following words: "It is time for you to go to the woods. Be careful, and never stray from the path, even if you hear the voices from a little ways away(and you mustn't EVER turn your head towards the voices), for there is no one there, and it is a trick. And most of all, beware of the trap at the very end; do not fall for it's deception like I once did." And then Grannie's head fell back onto the pillow, and she became motionless and empty once more.

And so Red went. Her father tied her cloak around her neck and sent her off to the mountain on which grew the woods which surrounding the small village.

Red began to walk uphill on a little cobblestone path that she supposed had always been there and always would. She soon began to hear voices, just as her Grannie had warned; the laugh of a woman, the scolding of an older sister to her brother, conversations and words gently swirling in the air around her. But, with her Grannie's words in her mind, she did not acknowledge the voices.

As she walked along, she saw the beautiful, tall trees towering over the path, blocking out enough sunlight for it to be shaded but not enough to be dark, their leafy branches reaching out towards the sky. Beams of sunlight shown through the canopy, dancing along the ground in front of her.

Tiny, shimmering, beads of dew that reminded Red of crystal covered everything, shining in the sunlight. The droplets sprung out at her as she ran her fingers over the surface of the trees, disturbing them from their places nestled among the moss and bark.

Birds twittered and chirped cheerfully, singing out beautiful, melodious songs back and forth that only they could comprehend.(Although Red never saw an actual bird, only heard them, for they appeared to be oddly shy.)

Sometimes she would pass a little burbling brook that tumbled over pebbles and stones, gurgling it's way down the mountain.

Red decided the woods were glorious.

The walk uphill was never very strenuous, although it got a bit more challenged as she went on. Eventually she came to a small part that was in open sunlight, surrounded by shorter shrubs and trees. The sudden heat startled Red, and she was quite glad when the path continued into the forest and shade a few minutes later.

She slowly wound her way up the mountain, trekking along the path through the woods. Eventually, she stopped at a bend, absolutely sure the paradise she had been searching for was along the corner. She sensed it in the same magical, unexplainable way that Grannie sensed Red should be the one to make this journey the day she had been born.

The woods had been much easier than she expected. Of course, there were the voices, but they were easy enough to ignore. How weak Grannie and the others must have been, she thought.

She stopped at the bend, almost as if waiting for some sort of confirmation, congratulation that she had reached the end.

And then suddenly, she heard a voice behind her, but it was quite different from the others voice she had heard. Those voices had been far-off, distant, background noise, aimless chatter that didn't acknowledge or address her. This voice was the loud voice of a woman, smooth and warm, that sounded very real and most certainly right behind her. "Congratulations child, for you have done well. You have trekked far and ignored the temptation of the voices which surely would have lead you to your doom, as no else has done before you. Welcome. Just pass the corner there and you shall be in the place of you wildest dreams."

Red felt so extraordinary, so amazing, as if she were floating. She was there! She had done it! She turned around to thank the woman, to laugh and cry tears of joy over her success. She realized her mistake a few seconds too late.

And for once, all the fake chatter and voices of the woods quieted and the only sound was the shrill scream of a young girl.

"Vain little girl, you thought you could win, but as your dear Grannie warned you, there is always one final trick."

A/N I know, I know, there is no centering or bold or italics in the right places and I'm sorry about that; I tried to enter it as a document in FF.net like I usually do to get all that stuff done but FF was glitcing out and wouldn't let me. *shrugs* so you'll have to deal with this for now.