A Cut Through the Woods

Ignorant to the day-drawn sun and its stunted drop into the beckoning horizon, Grady mused over his fortune of fragile autumn grandeur, which he found himself bequeathed during his trek through the woods. Strangely edified by the preaching of dissident birds and their treetop sermons, he walked without hurry in solemn respect for their religious worry. The ground felt soft under his step. It concaved ever-so-slightly under the weight of his being and remarked of his journey in faint, yet absolute, terms. It read of wandering: a path threaded of his own accord, woven loosely through the woods, yet still aiming to tie him to the nature he observed.

In the yawning auburn glare of the day’s gentle retreat into oblivion, all serenity broke loose. The sturdy measure of reality seemed to weaken in the softening light. Grady felt unencumbered by the predetermined actions of social convention. He instead paced off conviction. His morals, like the flecks of leaves falling from the trees in the dusky hue of a soon-to-be yesterday, floated peacefully from him. This granted him a rare freedom, thereto experienced exclusively by the wildlife surrounding him. This freedom crackled in the bustle of squirrels, wary of an encroaching presence, who fled halfheartedly, but lingered in short, vigilant distance. It stirred in the waddle of an opossum, perhaps too plucky to feign death, and echoed in the drowsy bellows of some far off frogs. The branches above, sway-stroked by a pervading breeze, gave a weary hush over all of the movement below. Coolness swept over Grady. He was lost, though he hardly felt so.

A series of steps on uneven ground propelled Grady toward a questionable destination. His breath remained remarkably calm as his eyes watched lingering spokes of sunlight, borrowed through columns of trees, dissolve into an early darkness. What was once cast in shadows became all shadow. In the mood-lit woods only secrets remained, hushed still by wisps of wind and the shuffling leaves they conjured. Each invisible rush mimicked the last, goading Grady to press onward in similar fashion. He obliged. His perseverant stride quickened over the unsettled terrain as he moved toward or away from the source of his persuasion.

His eyes proved untrustworthy guides in the obscurity. This point became punctuated as the brow of his head cracked forcefully into an underslung bough. Immediately, Grady shuffled back and flailed his left hand onto the source of pain. His head felt dizzy and wet. Clenched teeth hampered his ensuing howl only slightly as he lowered his hand and saw it covered in his warm, red lucidity.

Commotion rippled throughout the dark woods, causing minor confessions in its wake. The telltale flurry of activity broke through the hush of night and reminded Grady that he was not alone. Still, it was one sound exclusively which sent anxiety pulsating through him. A cry - unmistakably human - pierced the darkness. It was close, too. A swift turn of the head in its direction caused a narrow stream of blood to trace a savage demarcation down Grady’s face. The thin line between life and death proved no longer apart from him; it was a part of him.

Becoming benumb to his pain, Grady stood captivated in the ensuing lull, hoping for an encore to this mysterious rapport. It did not come. Only the shiver of quivering leaves rustled through the blankness. Any hope of further sounds would come as a result of his own volition.

Startling the night-soaked woods, he assailed the darkness with an almost violent motion as he launched forward into the murky haze set before him. In doing so, he heard what he had anticipated in the prior calm. A thrash of movement, similar to his own, riffled through the chilly night air and collected in his ear. A chase had begun!

Grady swiftly stumbled onward, almost choosing chance to guide his path rather than his deceitful eyes. Each frenetic footstep evoked another; the sound granted greater transparency to the near pitch-black surroundings. The person was still close. Perhaps closer than before. He bounced loudly off trunks of trees and brush in his rapacious rush...sensing the closing gap. He tripped over a protruding root or maybe a rock. Yet, the urgency remained.

Grady’s head began to throb. He carried a sharp pain in his right hand. Even still, he hurried with determination. The woods became a maelstrom of sound.

Twigs snapped.

Branches broke.

A sudden thud!

The person was even closer.

Grady’s pulse quickened. It seemed the chase would soon come to an unavoidable end. More noise - louder than before - raced through the echoing woods. The pale fragrance of dried leaves, disturbed by movement, swept over Grady as he continued his heavy run. Exhaustion began diluting his speed as he barreled onward. The person was very close now!

The noises grew! The dark woods crashed as if they were falling in on him. Suddenly there was a loud crack followed by a near deafening scream. Grady instantly changed from chase pace to a more cautious walk as he approached the source of the cry. Laid out before him in the dim isolation of the cold woods was a young man...legs helplessly twisted under the hulk of a fallen tree.

Grady approached the young man, his heart pounding an insane beat. Drops of blood and perspiration riddled his pallid complexion. Through the desperation there was a sudden sense of finality.

“It will be alright.” Grady spoke with asperity. “You’ll soon be free.”

The wind, once again, sent a hush through the night as Grady heaved his right hand triumphantly above his head, holding in it his sharp pain, and brought down the axe in one swift, unforgiving motion.