The Gate in the Wood

Prologue

The outskirts of my uncle's estate was a place forbidden to me. Mother always told me to never leave the hill that his manor house rested upon. I should always remain in sight of the place. But I was young, only five years of age, and at that curious, naive time I decided to ignore her words of warning, not understanding how much I should have heeded them.

The first time I ventured past the sight of the hill was the first time I asserted my individual independence, and regardless of how fragile my independence was at age five, it was still a grand memory in my childhood.

I had taken only a few steps away from the base of the steep, grassy hill when I fell into the shadow of a magical forest. However, this forest was immense, wrapping around Uncle's hill like a mother's arms around her weeping child. There was but one opening that allowed for a rocky, untamed pathway to snake its way through the barely contained trees up to the manor entrance.

The woods were silhouetted against the then-setting sun, the trees stretching to the heavens in their raw magnificence, their roots gnarled and tall, creating hollows where little animals could hide themselves away from the predators that accompanied the fast approaching night. Beautiful, lush weeds and bushes tumbled out at the edge of the forest, tiny blossoms of lavender and gold spilling onto the ground and glowing in the fading sun.

My mother's frantic calling of my name woke me from my observing the woods and I cast it one longing glance before turning away from the setting sun and the majestic sight and slowly making my unsteady way back up the hill.

My mother was furious with me for disobeying her warnings not to leave the hill. In her fit of worry she told me of a child who had gone missing in those very same woods years ago, a child named Jefferson. He had been seven when he wandered into the forest. He never came out again.

She was worried sick that the same ill fate would befall me. I denied it, vowing her that I would never venture past the tree line with my most sacred sign of an oath: I wrapped my pinkie around her own warmly, meeting her relieved and glittering smile with my own, dimples and all, while my other hand remained firmly positioned behind my back, fingers crossed tightly.

The next evening after supper my parents and uncle lounged in the den, the roaring fire helping to keep out the slight chill that had begun to intwine with the late spring air. My father had already tucked me securely into bed for the night, and after an hour of waiting and watching the sun begin sink behind the hill, I finally heard the soft padding of my parents' footsteps as they proceeded to their room.

Someone stopped at my door, and the squeaking of the handle made me squeeze my eyes shut. I knew it was my mother checking on me. Her sweet velvet voice whispered something to my father that I could not make out as she glanced in. He chuckled lightly and the door swiftly closed once more.

I waited impatiently, fidgeting with my night gown for another few minutes. Finally only silence occupied the house on the hill, and I knew that the adults had all gone to bed.

I swung my tiny legs over the side of the four-poster bed, slipping my feet into my slippers and creeping over to the ornate oak door of my room, resting a hand on the cool handle as I reached up with the other to take hold of my thick night robe, quickly throwing it on over my exposed arms and tying it hastily.

The door handle cried out as my hand slowly turned it downwards. I could hear the latch click as it neared the unlocking point and I froze, awaiting the sound of my parents or uncle getting up to investigate the noise. There was nothing.

I slipped between the slim opening I had made and silently closed the door, careful to avoid creating any noise that would give me away.

The grandfather clock at the end of the upstairs hall loomed over me, and I darted past it and to the right before descending down the grand staircase, the thick carpet muffling any footsteps. I clutched my robe around my frame tightly and neared the front door.

Could I disobey my mother, whom I had so seriously sworn to? But I knew it wasn't a question of whether or not I would disobey her, it was a question of if she would find out I had.

The front door made no sound as I eased it open, stepping into the indigo light of dusk and shutting it once more. My hand lingered on the handle, my mind still unsure. But the curiosity that drove me to go against Mother compelled me to slowly take my hand away from the metal of the handle.

I made a rapid flight down the hill, watching as the mansion disappeared from view. I knew I was safe now.

The woods, in their twilight grandeur, looked like woven silks of violet and black, their leaves and bushes dancing in the chilly breeze. Shimmering streaks of gold and purple painted the sky, and the sun finally disappeared behind the horizon, plunging me into darkness.

There was nothing but silence, no sound of animals or life at all. It pounded against my eardrums, deafeningly loud.

I swallowed and felt my lips part as I gaped at the forest in it's enormity. Something beckoned me, calling me in. The branches swayed in the night air, waving hello.

A small smile graced my lips as the forest suddenly came alive, the feeling magical. I could hear no sound still, but I could feel the energy in the atmosphere. It was so soft, so distant, but there.

The silver light of the moon finally aided me in my sight and I peered into the darkness of the trees, who were still calling me in. I took a tentative step forward, not yet breaking the tree line. I could still return to my bed, never having to worry about Mother's wrath. But I felt the need to see what was beyond the trees, what secrets they held in their roots.

Another hesitant step took me into the forest, and I could feel the change immediately. It was no longer deadly silent, however no animal sounds pierced the still night air. Instead, there came a tinkling, soft like music, but beautiful and mystifying.

I felt my curiosity soar and I became more confident in the steps I took as the house on the hill faded from my eyes. The music, much like a music box or a lullaby, captivated me, pulling me deeper into the heart of the woods.

The air danced with starlight and the glow of the moon, and I felt the magical pull of it all. I reached out to touch the trees, their bark feeling smooth and untouched, different from how they appeared. This forest was different in a way that was indescribable. It was playful, light. It was pure. In it's shadow I felt free.

Then came the tiny pinpricks of wispy light. They flew in the breeze, weaving through the forest slowly. With them came the sound of music once more, stronger now. They would near me and then dance away when I reached out to touch them. Why I wanted to feel them I did not know. But I swore that when they neared I could make out the distinct features of a miniature face. I believed them to be pixies from the fairytales of childhood, for it was the only explanation my childlike mind could create.

The pixies led me, waving their little hands and smiling their glittering smiles, further into the forest. The tree roots began to grow in size, becoming thicker and rising up in great arches over my head. I gazed at them in amazement before coming to a standstill.

Directly in front of me was a single arch shared between two trees, forming a gateway almost. One could walk through it if they so wished.

The pixies flew swiftly towards the arch, motioning for me to join them. I felt my heart begin to beat faster and I smiled once more in wonder as I stumbled through the tall roots to reach them.

One darted through the arch, followed by another, and another. Yet that was not what made me remain where I was, a step away from the doorway. It was that, as they flew through the root, they disappeared. The space inside the arch would waver like water where they sped through, like tiny waves and ripples before settling again to create a picture of the trees and shrubs on the other side of it.

I refused to follow the pixies, even though they continued to dart in and out of it, motioning for me to join them. I shook my head and took a step back. The music had grown louder, the soft chimes filling my ears and making me feel elated.

Fear held me captive. I was unsure of whether or not to go through the arch with them or turn around and return home, regardless of whether or not I knew the way. I did not know what to do, and suddenly I wished for my mother. I wanted to go home, tell her I was sorry for disobeying her. Now I was lost in the woods the Mother had warned me against. Tears fell down my cheeks, liquid crystals the stained the front of my night robe.

A single pixie came back through the doorway, her light glimmering in the darkness of the night. She held out a minuscule hand in offering, her little eyes promising. I did not take it, whimpering and stepping further away, shaking me head as I cried.

Her expression grew worried and she flew up to my eye level, catching a tear that was trailing down my cheek in her hand. She held it up to her face and smiled once more at me before blowing on it.

The tear turned to dust, glittering golden dust that shimmered in the air around me. With it came the feeling of wonder once more, and I knew that I could trust her. She offered a hand once more, and though it was only the size of the tip of my pinkie, I took it.

Her light shone brightly and I followed her to the root arch. She nodded at me once kindly before disappearing through it. I took a deep breath and stilled myself. Could I do it?

Her head reappeared out of the arch, followed by and arm as she waved me onward. I closed my eyes, took a gasping breath, and stepped through the archway into the unknown.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The gateway rippled like water as the tiny figure of a little girl passed through it, eyes firmly shut and lips pursed in determination. The faint sound of music accompanied her going, and suddenly the tinkling stopped as she faded into the gate.

The surface of the arch settled, becoming clear and undisturbed once again. No one could have ever known that the tiny little girl of five had entered into a place unknown with wonders unseen.

No one could have ever known that she had found the gate in the wood.