The Forest

The wind rustles through the trees, making the hair rise on the girl's arms and her ears intently interpret the various sounds around her. She feels it in her gut that she must start moving. As soon as she thinks this, the bushes behind her start to rustle loudly. The girl picks herself up and begins to run, her bare feet slapping painfully against the frozen ground with each excruciating step. She wonders why she has not given up yet; she has been running for so long, from the same animal.

The animal – a monstrous beast, really – has been chasing the girl for as long as she can remember. This giant is five times her size and appears to grow as the girl gets older. He relentlessly chases her through the woods, clawing and growling. Every once in a while, the girl loses the monster. To her dismay, it always returns to stalk her through the forest once again.

The girl's deepest fear is that this animal, or whatever it is, will one day catch her and devour her like a lion devours a wounded antelope. She hopes that this fear will not come true today, or any day. The girl sees a large blueberry bush spanning the distance between several trees up ahead. She decides to hide in the middle the bush and prays that the ruthless villain will not sniff her out.

The branches scratch up her exposed, dirty skin. Specks of blood dot her arms and legs, peeking out of the grime on her body. The inhuman creature creeps up to the bush, raising its nose to the air, brow furrowed, as if in deep, critical thought. The girl crouches in the fetal position, praying fervently to whoever might hear her. The girl silently cries, desperately hoping someone will listen to her internal pleas for mercy and spare her.

A few moments later, the hairy, foul-smelling creature sulks off, temporarily giving up. The girl knows that it is too soon to sigh in relief, for once before, she released her tension in a sigh and let go of her legs, which at the time were pressed to her chest, and the horrid animal came right back and almost discovered her in the hidey hole in an old oak tree. She does not want a repeat of that horrible scare, so she holds in her hiding spot for several more minutes until she is positive it is gone.

As the girl takes a deep breath in and lets it out and stretches out her arms and legs, massaging her sore muscles, she sees one of the branches move above her head. The girl's eyes grow wide and she freezes. For a moment, it seems as if the whole forest is silent. It's as if the slight breeze has halted and the chiming of the leaves no longer make a sound. The woodpeckers have stopped gouging at the trees and there is no crunch of leaves or twigs underneath the feet of the deer.

Suddenly, a blue bird pokes his head down into the blueberry bush and chirps once. I scream and throw my hands over my head, expecting a giant claw to reach down and knock my head off like a child would hit a teeball off a tee stand. When I notice that my head is still attached to my body, I look up, arms still protecting my head. The bird chirps innocently again. I blink, moving my arms to my side.

"Hi, little guy," I coo, reaching my finger out to him. Surprisingly, he hops onto it without a doubt. I slowly lower my hand down so the bird is perched right in front of me. He puffs out his golden brown chest and chirps confidently. He pecks one blueberry at a time off the bush and holds it in his beak, nibbling on it and eating it bit by bit. After a couple berries, the bird flies up off my finger and flits in front of me, flying away a few feet and then coming back to flap its wings inches from my face.

"What's up, little guy? You want me to follow you?"

The bird tweets in response, so after listening to the surroundings for a moment and not hearing the screeches of the monster, I slowly rise to my feet and tumble out of the blueberry bush and brush myself off. My first step out of the bush makes my entire body begin to tremble. The sudden open space around me is overwhelming, knowing the monster could occupy it at anytime. I glance around, wrapping my frail, grimy, battered arms around my trembling frame. This bird could be leading me right to the monster; what am I doing?