The Lumberjack

The Lumberjack - Part Four

I could feel the woods around me as I walked. They were alive, they were conscious. I could feel it, for I was in sync with it. This fog, this demon, whatever it was, thought it could trick me. It thought I would get lost, or give up, like some sort of weakling. But I was born to survive. There was nothing this thing could do to stop me. I was in my element. I had been ever since I had killed that puppet-thing and stolen its little weapon. When I crushed it underfoot, I felt the invasive presence inside my head getting hurt. If everything in this forest was connected, then I could hurt any little part of it, and it would be as if I were killing the lumberjack himself. Now, killing puppets was all well and good, but if I was going to make it out of this place alive, I knew I'd need to do some real damage. I'd have to burn this place down.

However, the sheer weirdness of my surroundings seemed to throw a wrench in my plans. Whenever I tried to make a fire, it had been this weird bluish-greenish thing, yet another abomination. I would just as soon trust one of those cultists in town than that unholy flame. But all was not lost! For I had seen a real fire in this place once before, in the shop of the creepy old man. If I could just take some, I could set the entire forest ablaze, down to every last tree. Maybe it would free all the souls that had been trapped here before me, I didn't know. Metaphysics had never been my strong suit. But if I could actually hurt this sucker, it would all be worthwhile.

The forest seemed to rearrange itself just to confuse me, but I had gotten used to these kinds of games, and adjusted my path accordingly. It wouldn't be long until I was at that crazy old bat's door step. My smile flickered for a moment. What would I do when I was there? Would I hurt him? Kill him? Was I even strong enough? I resolved grimly that I would just have to hope he wasn't there. If he was... well, I would deal with that when I got to it.

I began to notice that the ground started to look familiar, and I knew that I was close. Then I saw the wooden slope of the roof, and I broke into a run. I needed to get this over with. I stopped myself. If I was going to get out of here with my life, then caution would have to be key. Sure, there was a chance that whatever was in there already knew where I was. I had felt the influence of the fog inside my brain many times before. But hopefully the tiny talisman I carried with me, the knife of the puppet who had tried to kill me, would protect me better than the coin I had carried before. With a deep breath, I pushed the door open and went inside.

Something I hadn't noticed when I had been creeping toward the building was that the windows had been forcefully smashed open. That wasn't all. The entire place was trashed. Stands were overturned, chairs were smashed in two. There was a doll on the ground with its head smashed open. It appeared to be bleeding. I couldn't consider the implications of that, though, because standing in the corner, facing away from me, was the lumberjack.

I didn't move for what seemed like forever. Neither did it. For a second, I thought it might just be the statue I had seen in the center of town. But then it turned around to face me. It wore a mask, as did the figures in the town. But those masks had been ornately carved from wood. The one worn by the monstrosity before me was cheap and grotesque, like you might find in a dollar-store. Its mouth was affixed into a hideous grin, just like the pamphlet I saw in town. But this was so much worse. It wore a flannel coat, a trapper hat, denim jeans, and boots that went halfway to his knees. It also had gloves on, and the places that its clothes didn't cover were wrapped with old tape and bandages. I couldn't see an inch of its skin under all of that. The eyes were obscured by the shadow of the mask. There was a splatter of blood on its coat.

Though I couldn't see its eyes, I could feel its icy stare on me. There was an animosity to it, something I knew the slightest misstep could trigger. This, this... thing before me looked as mean as rhino, and just as big. It was not a man; it was an animal. Any second it could charge. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest. I tried to draw a rattling breath, but found myself at a loss. What was there to do? Should I run? There was no doubt in my mind that it would overtake me before I left the shop. Then that left only one option: I would stay and fight.

The creature before me seemed to sense the resolution in my eyes, and it moved toward me with staggering speed. I realized too late that I was no match for this thing, and reached for the knife around my neck when it grabbed me, and slammed me against the wall. I clutched at my throat. It was stronger than I could have imagined. It was as if the entire forest had concentrated the whole of its power into one man, or something in the shape of a man, at the very least. If this thing wanted to tear me in two, it could do it without a second thought. But I was still alive. That had to mean something, right? But I was only grasping at rational thought now, my brain being almost totally deprived of oxygen. But suddenly, as if revealed by stage lights, I made a crucial connection: this thing was so confident in my impending doom that it was taking the time to revel in my suffering. It was like an energy source to it. I still had one last shot at survival. With one motion, I grabbed the all too small knife and stuck it in the lumberjack's arm.

It made no sound, as it seemed to be incapable of doing so, but it staggered back in a complete and utter shock, and though I could not see its face, the pain it felt was all too obvious to me. It burst through the back wall of the shop. It made it a few more feet, and then collapsed to the floor. A bright wave of relief washed over me, but my celebration was tempered by my certainty that such a small wound could never kill something as powerful as the Lumberjack, and, even worse, I had lost the only thing keeping me safe from the fog. That knife had been some sort of talisman, and I was sure that the only reason I had made it this far was because of its mystical properties. I also knew that I had to get out of this shop, and soon, as the hole the Lumberjack made seemed to rob the building of its structural integrity, and it could collapse at any moment. I made my way to the front door, wrapped my hand around the doorknob, and pushed my way through. My head was throbbing now, and I was certain of the fact, whether due to the severity of my injuries or my sudden lack of protection from the fog, that I would soon faint. I stumbled a few feet forward, and was dimly aware of the sound of the shop crashing behind me. However, my attention was held by something to my front.

There was a dove perched on a tree branch. It was blinding white, and it seemed to repel the fog around it. Whatever this was, it was not a mere bird, it was some sort of symbol for good, or peace, or some other thing. This beautiful animal held the key to my salvation. I fell to my knees, and my eyes filled with tears. I wanted to thank this creature, for it seemed to me now that this was some gift from some higher power; more than that, that it was hope, pure and simple. Whatever horrors I had seen, whatever enemies I had made, that was all in the past. If this wondrous thing could make it in here, then I could make it out. I had lost my only protection from the darkness which surrounded me, and I was granted another chance at escape. That was when the bird flew away.

It took me a while to process the betrayal of what had just occurred. I was still on my knees, looking like a fool, when suddenly, and in spite of my wounds I had sustained in the previous encounter, I was on my feet, running after the dove, pleading with it to stay, to save me from this hellhole. Then it flew too high, and disappeared from sight. I cried again, but these were not tears of joy. These were cold, bitter, and defeated. That had been the last chance, the only chance. I had just injured the god of this forest, and I was unarmed and completely lost. The revenge would be swift and quick, and I would be powerless to stop it. My injuries, previously ignored, were beginning to overtake me, and I fell to the floor, unable to take another step. The last thing I saw before I blacked out was a figure in a robe and a mask, not unlike one from the town I had fled, standing over me. Then I thought no more, at least for a while.