Grin

  No one ever entered the forest and no one knew of why the king became so obsessed. The forest had always existed far away from any village or town. Myths and rumors kept most people away. Only drifters and nomads ventured inside, so no one noticed when they went missing.

    By word of mouth we had already heard how the king sent more than half of his own knights to charge into the forest. All we heard was that he thought of it as his holy duty to eliminate evil.  Four hundred and twenty five men went into the forest’s inner depths, only five came out. It was then that the king made the call: anyone willing to brave the forest would be rewarded with an enormous amount of the kingdom’s treasury at their disposal. It wasn’t long before the announcement reached our village, with many becoming interested in the reward, valuing it over their own lives.

    Timothy, the son of the town black smith, was the first to leave for the forest. He was young man, no older than nineteen, with flowing blonde hair, and a strong chin. Often, he could be found in the local tavern, harassing the women, and making up tales of adventure. It wasn’t surprising when he left for the forest. Timothy always was the first to show off to try and back up his stories. With the best weapons and armor his father could provide, Timothy headed out of the village and into the forest.

    We waited. One day passed, and then a week. By the time a month had gone by we all assumed he wasn’t coming back. Timothy’s father had waited long enough and made preparations to go into the forest himself. Just as he was about to leave the village, a figure blocked his path at the village entrance. It was Timothy.

    The once flowing, golden hair had become gray and lifeless. His eyes were sunken into his head and it looked like he hadn’t slept in years. He still wore the armor his father had given him, but it had begun to fall apart and rust. The sword was broken in half, with pieces crumbling off as soon as anyone tried to touch it. He didn’t say a word. They brought him to his home and sent for anyone they could get to help him. They tried everything, from doctors to mystics, but nothing changed.

    One day a band of traveling merchants came to town, showing their wares from various regions. Timothy’s parents brought him to the shops, hoping one of the merchants would know how to bring him back to his old self. They stopped by a wagon that sold clothing, with various colors hanging on the racks. The old woman running the booth, stopped in the middle of making a red shirt to greet them with a grin and red dye soaked hands. Timothy screamed and ran back to his house, blocking the doors and huddling in the corner. His father eventually broke through with the help of a few other men to find him cowering in the corner, rocking back in forth in a fetal position. For the first time since he returned, he spoke. Just one word: grin.

    Timothy died soon after. They just found him in his bed not moving or breathing. He was buried behind his family’s home, and at the same time we built a small memorial for the others who had entered the forest. Time passed, and we thought this would be the last to meet this grim fate. A year later, another announcement came from the king: Whosoever can brave the forest and destroy what’s inside will be able to make a new law of their choosing.

    It was Patrick, a veteran warrior and vocal anarchist that decided to answer the call this time. He was a man who had seen many battles and had been a key player in winning the last war, only to be stripped of his land and prestige. He had long grown tired of the way the king ruled and spent his time plotting against him, when he wasn’t protecting the town from wild beasts and bandits. We begged him not to go, knowing that he would be leaving us defenseless. He ignored our pleas and began marching to the forest. We didn’t see him again for an entire month.

    When he returned, he was the same as Timothy. We brought him to his home and tried to help where we could. He was hollow inside, only doing the bare minimum to keep himself alive for a few weeks. And then, just like Timothy, he died with no explanation. He was a loner that lived on the generosity of others, so it came down to a group of people, including myself, to clean out his shack of a home.

    His home was a mess. Half-eaten food was piled all over the table, each in a different state of rot and decay, with maggots squirming on the plates and rats scurrying along the walls. The rusted armor he had brought back from the forest was leaning against the wall, housing a family of spiders. Walking into this bedroom our boots crunched the paper that was scattered across the floor. The pages consisted mostly of gibberish, but there were words and phrases that could be discerned throughout the scribbles. It was a description of some creature with long, bloody fingers and a wide, toothy grin.

    We now had some idea of what was in the forest, and it gave us more reason to ignore the king’s orders. Another year went by, with news of people going into the forest dwindling as more and more people began to see the writings and hear the babbling of those who had gone into the forest just to lose their sanity. That was until the king increased his bounty. This time it was his daughter’s hand in marriage. It was something no one had expected. He was actually willing to give up his throne and only daughter to destroy that forest.

    To everyone’s surprise, the next one who went was a young woman named Rachael. Her family had served the king in the days before he became distant and hateful towards people. Rachael and the princess were childhood friends and sent letters to one another, even after her family was kicked out of the castle. Her parents locked her in her room when she told them about her desire to save her friend from forced marriage. By the next morning, she was already gone, with the locks broken off the door.

    Her parents immediately grabbed their farming tools and headed into the forest themselves. This began a chain of people going in one after another to try and retrieve those that went before them. Apparently, a lot of people admired Rachael and her family. Within a week, we lost fifty more to the forest. Occasionally, a single person would emerge from the forest, mad and endlessly writing about the grinning creature with long, bloody fingers.

    Months went by and the reward kept getting bigger. This lasted until the king was overthrown by his own soldiers. It was the king’s one final push to overtake the forest, but the knights refused. No one fought to defend the king. Anyone who was loyal to him, had already given their life to the forest long ago. As a fitting punishment, they forced the king into the forest, giving him nothing, but a bible.

    Months turned into years, and the forest still stands. Over time, I’ve become obsessed with what lies in those trees. I think I’m starting to understand why the king became so obsessed. Every time someone came back, I felt like a part of the forest was calling to me. I tried gathering others to help me, but as expected no one wants to join me. It looks like it will just be me. I’ve made peace with my family and friends and have taken care of my affairs. I shall be leaving for the forest by sunrise tomorrow.

    Earlier today, I went to the outskirts of the forest. From a distance, I could feel the same sense of dread and despair from the few who stumbled out. The trees are living, but have voices of the dead. Nothing living goes in or out of them. Not even birds will fly anywhere close to it. As I was about to head back to the inn to prepare, I caught a glimpse of something moving in the trees. Something with a large ivory white grin, inviting me inside.