Shades of Fall

         Fall colors spiraled down around two girls strolling through the forest. They were sharing a story of old Mrs. Leary and her fainting spells in chapel the past Sunday. A hard blue sky stretched between the orange and yellow of the forest canopy, and their laughter echoed in the crisp air.

         “My Mama says it was that altar boy, Charles - he dropped the bells and gave her such a fright she dropped to the floor!” said Luce, giggling. She readjusted the basket of soiled laundry her mother had charged her with washing and tugged an ebony braid over her shoulder.

         “This is the second time it’s happened, poor Charles. He’s always dropping things in school too, you know,” explained Anika. The tin bucket, brimming with lye and rags, was growing increasingly heavy and she struggled to keep it in the air. Strands of silvery blonde hair fell into her eyes, but instead of brushing them back continued with her story. “The other day, Parcial swears she saw him knock his parchment off his desk - and then when he reached for it the whole desk fell over!” The girls erupted in laughter.

         A strip of dark blue glimmered into view before them - they had reached the lake.



         “It’s ice-cold,” clarified Luce, after dipping her hand in the water. She wrapped her fingers in her caramel-colored apron to warm them.

         If they finished their chores quickly, they would be able to attend the Harvest Festival preparations. Eagerly, they began dunking the bucket and unpacking the lye and cloth.

         The Harvest Festival was an annual event. Every fall the crop of pumpkins, red-nut berries, bronzed corn, dark green shoots, and earthy root vegetables were gathered and stored. Much of it was saved for the Fall Feast, and the whole village chipped in to decorate the town square.

         A single crow buzzed over the lake, cawing a harsh, lonely cry to the still water. He alighted on the skeleton of the Fallow Tree. It was an odd contrast – the cracked, sun-bleached bark distantly encircled by tufts of amber trees. For their safety, nothing grew within ten feet of the Fallow Tree. Things tended to die there, withering away into the crumbled soil. It was rumored to place ill-luck on those who touched it in the fall season, but it was common for the children to tempt the spirits, throwing acorns and corn husk dolls at the decrypt branches.

         Anika and Luce eyed the tree, distracted, and Anika plopped down the chemise she was scrubbing.

         “I need a break,” she sighed, and straightening, brushed damp, decaying leaves from her skirt. Luce nodded to her but continued dunking a stocking.

         “Don't you want to join me?” Anika said. Wherever she went, Luce would follow, it had been that way since they were small children. But Luce only shook her head, she wanted to finish as soon as possible so she could peruse the latest volumes at the book-lenders.

         “Fine, if I drown in the lake, you’ll be the one to blame,” teased Anika. Luce mock-glared at her but rose to her feet.

         “You’re a menace, you know that?” said Luce.

         Anika shot her friend a wide grin. “And that’s why you stick around, because if I’m a menace, at least I’m a funny one.”

         The two wandered about the lakeshore, scavenging for smooth stones or trinkets dropped by weekend revelers. Anika found a hawk’s feather and tucked into her plait as she watched the gentle lap of the icy water. It was a deep, midnight blue this time of year, and the sun rays sparkled like stars upon the still surface. Anika wondered if anyone had ever reached the bottom. If they had, what did they find there? Eren, her older brother, claimed the rusty sword hilt displayed on his wall had been dredged from the lake floor. He said that centuries before the lake had been a dry prairie on which an epic battle had raged between warring clans.

         Anika did not believe him. She asked Eren’s friends about it and apparently, her brother had found it on the ground by the Fallow Tree. It would not have been the first odd item found around the tree’s base.

         Soon, they came before the Fallow Tree, close enough to hear the creaking of its limbs and the rattle of woodpeckers as they pierced the leathered bark. If she touched it, what would happen? Would the spirits visit her window on Hallow’s Eve? Would she see bones clacking down Widow’s Trail from the cemetery? Some deep curiosity made her step close to the trunk.

         “Anika!” called Luce. Suddenly her friend was by her side, pulling Anika back from the tree. “What are you doing, trying to bring some curse down upon us?”

         “Of course not! I was just curious, my brother found a sword hilt here once, perhaps I might find something special too...” she gazed back at the tree, its withered branches rattling in the slight breeze.

         Luce shook her head and stepped back. “Let’s go, I don’t like this...”

         "Luce, what about adventure?” Anika teased and began moving back toward the tree. Luce’s eyes narrowed. They were testing each other. Anika sensed a presence behind her and turned around to face the Fallow Tree. Ill-luck and omens. Rumors and legends. Her brother had weathered the tree and come away with a treasure – true he had never touched it but imagine if she did. Luce would see she had been right, a little adventure never caused anyone harm. And what could be so wrong with touching a tree?

         Curiosity, and perhaps a little rivalry made her reach out and brush the whorled bark, run her fingertips across the rough grain and peer into a little squirrel hole where she poked at a stash of acorns and jeweled berries. Foolish? Perhaps.

         A scream pierced the air, and she withdrew her hand in horror, stumbling away from the tree. Where had it come from? Was it the tree? She gazed at the weathered branches, but it was still and firm as stone. A realization struck her, Luce-

         Whirling around she realized Luce was no longer behind her. If she squinted her eyes, scanning the lakeshore, Anika could vaguely make out the brown basket and tangle of beige clothing, but no Luce. Anika fell into a run, stumbling over stones and washed-up sticks. She’d left her friend - if something had happened, it would be Anika’s fault.

          It was only when she reached the tipped basket, the scattered clothing, the empty shore, she realized her crimson scarf was no longer about her neck.

* * ৡ * * ৡ * * ৡ * *

         Anika wandered through the woods near the lake, dazed. In the sunset, the yellow-orange leaves glowed a deep red, dripping from their branches and staining the ground.

         How could she face Luce’s parents? Where had Luce gone? Would she ever see her friend again? As she trudged back to the village, heart heavy, Anika imagined the terrible scene she was walking toward. She had done her best to find Luce, circling the lake, the woods, waiting for her to return, but eventually was forced to admit defeat. What would she tell the villagers? That she was a failure. Their harsh censure loomed before her. And all because of some stupid impulse.

         Should she tell them about the tree?

         A whisper of a call floated through the wood. “Anika!” It was faint, but it seemed to emanate from deep within the thicket of trees before her. From the direction of the village. Anika ran toward the sound.

         “I’m here!” she screamed. “I’m over here!”

         “Anika!” It was louder now, more defined. Her hair whipped behind her in a silvery arc as she raced through the forest, picking up speed, leaping over mossy logs and piles of crimson leaves. At one point she tripped and went sprawling to the ground, her grey apron flying about her. The hawk feather, flecked with brown, floated to rest on the forest floor in a pool of darkness.

         The light was dying. Shadows began to creep through the maze of trees.

         “Anika!” the voice pierced the silence. It was high-pitched, feminine, frantic. It sounded like Luce.

         “Luce! I’m coming!” Anika scrambled to her feet, stumbling toward the voice. It had come from just beyond a tree to her right.

         Luce shouted her name again, but there was something wrong with her voice- it sounded muffled, like she was speaking through a door. “I’m right here Anika. Where are you, I can’t see you!”

         Anika came to a large tree. Luce would be on the other side, she knew it, she could feel it. Yet, when she swung around, the wood was empty. Tall trunks, a crimson canopy, no Luce. Anika fell against the trunk, and a sob fought its way out of her throat.

         “Luce…” she cried.

         Footsteps crackled through the leaves behind her, and she turned to look. On the shadowed ground before her lay the hawk feather. Someone was bending down to pick it up. They were small, Anika’s height.

         “Anika…” they whispered, half to themself, and straightened. The pale figure swiveled around, and their gaze met Anika’s. It was Luce.

         But something was off about the girl. The figure’s pale skin was blue-tinged, it glowed with a soft pulsing vibrance, and her image wavered like a reflection in water. Anika gasped, and a chill swept over her. She approached cautiously, stepping through the fading light. A story came back to her about the memories of those sent to the underworld - how they would return to Earth as shadows, mere imprints of themselves. Yet that would mean Luce was…

         Anika stepped into a shadow of a tree, the same shadow as her friend, and Luce gave a little shriek and vanished along with the feather. One moment she stood there, wide-eyed, clutching the feather, the next she disappeared. Had she seen Anika? Perhaps it had something to do with the shadow...

         “Wait!” said Anika, and ran forward into the clearing, back into the light. But Luce was gone. All that was left was the sound of the figure’s receding footsteps, crunching over fallen leaves deeper into the forest - away from Anika.

* * ৡ * * ৡ * * ৡ * *

         Trudging through the woods again, Anika found it hard not to collapse to the ground or perhaps punch a tree. Crying would be a good option too. But that little voice of conscience inside her pushed her forward. She needed to keep walking.

         An orange light burned through the silhouetted trees ahead. At first, it was just one, but more sparked into life the closer she came. A line of dwellings dotted the space before her, and she broke into a run. It wasn’t the village – she was still within the forest's clutch, but perhaps someone here would guide her home.

         She slowed to a careful approach when she neared the first hutch. In the dim light , she could see it was a humble little dome, covered with twigs, branches, and leaves. She circled around the structure and found a slender wood bark door tucked on the far side.

         A woman, tall and spectacled, answered the door, her dark hair drawn up in a neat bun, her dress a knee length pleated affair with a lacy collar. When Anika asked for shelter and a guide back to her village, the woman didn’t appear surprised. Instead, she ushered her inside. Anika had no choice but to obey – otherwise, she would face the wrath of the forest on a cold fall night.

* * ৡ * * ৡ * * ৡ * *

         “Drink.”

         The woman pushed a wooden cup into her hands. The aroma rising from the amber liquid was familiar: spiced cider. Anika sipped gingerly, waiting for its warm caress to wash away the memory of Luce, transparent and shadowed.

         She’d remembered the term: shade. That’s what Luce was now, Anika was convinced of it. She bowed her head and closed her eyes to the world. Her mind wanted to dwell on the how and the why, but she knew such questions called for impossible answers.

         When the next wave of grief over losing Luce had swept through her, she lifted her head, peering at her surroundings.

         It was a funny little hut, filled with strange trinkets of all kinds. There was a shiny silver object perched upon a mound of parchment that resembled two connected spyglasses. The parchment itself was strange – it was a pure, perfect white, with little letters too finely printed to be handwritten. Beside it, on a stool, crouched a green box with little circular buttons marked with letters. It was a metal contraption, and curious, Anika set her cup on a wooden stool and knelt before it. The woman was fiddling around in the corner, scrawling something on a sheet of the strange pure white parchment – there were little symbols all over it, circles and triangles. She had introduced herself as Anna, but Anika’s glazed expression had forced Anna to cut conversation short and withdraw to the little table.

         “May I...” Anika pointed to the stack, waiting for approval. The woman looked up, surprised to see her moving about.

         “Of course, careful with the typewriter though, it was a gift from a friend, and I shan’t be receiving another.”

         “Typewriter...?”

         The woman pointed to the green box with the end of her quill. Anika nodded, perplexed. This woman must be from very far away indeed to have such advanced, clearly expensive, equipment and paper.

         After inspecting the contraption, she turned her gaze to the parchment. The papers were composed in a strange form of her native tongue. It was somehow more refined, simpler than the tedious sentences she was used to. There were many terms unfamiliar to her, but the general gist of the page discussed the native plant species of the area. She worked through the stack with interest, pausing here and there to analyze a diagram or puzzle over a term. Meanwhile, Anna scratched away in the corner at her parchment. Sometimes she would press a cylindrical tube attached to a boxlike contraption to her eye, and hold a leaf, or a plant sprig to the other end. She really was a funny woman.

         Anna gave her a blanket at some point, and Anika curled up on a little pad of straw in the corner, watching candles flicker their pale light about the hut. Wondering what drew the woman to stay up so late, she fell asleep to the movement of her quill.

         That night she dreamed she followed Luce through a smoky wood to the Fallow Tree. The two girls stood before the massive trunk and Anika leaned forward, looking to touch the weathered bark. Luce pulled her back and led her home. They trod down the path side by side, hands joined, until they reached the edge of the village. Luce kept walking, but when Anika tried to enter the village, she passed through walls and villagers like a crow through mist.

* * ৡ * * ৡ * * ৡ * *

         There were several odd people in the village. Anika had thought Anna strange but she wasn’t the only one. She later found Anna hailed from Kingsbrooke, wherever that was. She’d heard it mentioned by the villagers in town before, but according to them, it was a single ramshackle inn. From Anna’s explanation, however, Kingsbrooke was quite large and even boasted a University - which was where she worked as a researcher. Anika thought this explained the strange equipment in her hut.

         In addition to Anna, there were a couple of rugged young men – Sam and Benji, in the usual tunic and breeches, but with bright orange and purple jackets made of some strange shiny material, and thick leather-ish shoes that were highly decorated and colored. Anika had never seen laces of that material before, and with metal caps. A group of young women breezed around in long sweeping gowns. Though the cloth was of simple cut, a fine muslin, the structure of the bodice, fullness of the gown, and voluminous sleeves were unheard of in Anika’s village. One older man with white-grey hair went around pointing a black box with glass on either end at the members of the group, the ground, the trees, and the sky.

         There were children too, small boys running around in a spectrum of fashions – tunics, breeches, one boy had on a smart embroidered jacket with a little caplet, while another had on a strange green shirt with very short sleeves that said Dinosaurs Rock! on the front. Anika thought “Dinosaurs Rock” might be a place, but the colors and print were outlandish. For dye that strong, the shirt must have cost a fortune. Three girls raced after the boys, giggling. Anika thought she recognized one of the girls - Clara was the name - but decided against it. Clara had disappeared from the village almost five years ago. It was rumored that her disappearance had something to do with the Fallow Tree at the time, but rumors often ended that way in the villiage.

         They welcomed Anika with smiles and hugs, apparently grateful for the newcomer, but Anika thought there was a sadness behind their eyes. They all sat around a communal fire in the morning, chatting with her about her home and family while the children rolled around in the leaves. It was almost a familial atmosphere – yet not one of the strange people looked alike.

         Anika assumed one of these people could help her and brought up her dilemma.

         “Might I inquire after a guide to take me home?” she asked politely.

         The group quieted immediately, dropping their eyes to the ground. They shifted with unease, shooting little glances at those around them, communicating in some unspoken way. At last, Anna spoke.

         “You wish to go back?” she said. Anika nodded. Of course, she wanted to go home! Why would she stay? Anna, wearing a long grey gown today, very different from her odd dress the night before, glanced about the group, at the young women with their voluminous gowns, at Benji, who was fiddling with his purple jacket, and the whiskered man with his black box. “You see, it is not that easy, to return home from here...”

         “What do you mean? What’s so special about his place?” Anika retorted – why was it so difficult for them to understand?

         “This place, it doesn’t exist in your world. We’ve all tried to escape it, but the longer we’re here, the more difficult it is to even see and hear those from home.”

         “I don’t understand.” Anika slumped on her wooden log. These people were talking nonsense. They were probably insane. They couldn’t help her. She stood up, brushing off the back of her dress. “If you won’t help me, then I’ll go myself. I know these woods.”

         Anna glanced over at her friend again and drew a sharp breath. “Very well, I shall accompany you - we’ll leave in five minutes. You must see it for yourself.”

* * ৡ * * ৡ * * ৡ * *

         Anna was a fast walker. For every stride Anika took, she took three, her muslin gown swishing about her determined feet. They reached a little footpath, well worn, and Anika gazed about the familiar forest. There seemed to be more trees than normal, but the morning light shone through the yellow and orange leaves with a clear brilliance. It set Anika at ease, especially when she recognized the path that led to the village. “There!” she called out, “to Faldell.”

         They crested a hill, and Anika gasped. Anna’s face revealed only a mournful expression; a jaded little frown as she gazed out at the city the bloomed like smoke from the hillside.

         There was a vaguely familiar layout to the place, the little line of shops along main avenue, the fields of fall crops laid out in a circle about the town center, but where Anika was used to seeing single-story buildings, hog pens, and ramshackle market stalls, crouched a gathering of all-sized buildings.

         Some boasted brick towers above a cobblestone street. The book-lenders shop was an odd amalgamation of the squat little wooden storefront she was familiar with and a larger three-story frame that encompassed the small dwelling. It reminded her of the charcoal drawings of her brother - a mess of lines and shapes all imprinted on top of the other, a sketch drawn and erased several times, but the imprint never fully replaced on the parchment. Some of the other buildings, like those about the town square, were so thick with smoky lines they blocked out the ground entirely. The buildings held the same wavering quality of Luce, except without the blue-tinged light. They looked formed from the shadows themselves.

         “You’re seeing every single layer of history,” said Anna. She looked toward Anika and placed a hand on her shoulder. “It was overwhelming for me at first too – for all of us, and it’s like this no matter where you go.” She gestured to the world beyond Faldell. “Kingsbrooke, Tabernathy, Alde...the list goes on. There are people from every era, countless towns, cities, hamlets, all stuck here in this...place.” Anika sunk to the ground, and her dream returned to her. A city of shadow and mist.

         “We can’t touch them; we can’t interact with them...”

         “If both parties stand in shadow, we can sometimes hear and see those from the adjoining worlds. But we cannot touch them.” Anika thought back to her vision of Luce, the shade. How she had disappeared the moment she saw Anika, and in fear, stepped outside the shadow of the tree.

         “So, what are we? Where are we?”

         “I wish I could tell you,” sighed Anna. She knelt beside Anika, arranging her skirt on the layers of dried leaves. “I’ve tried for years to escape this place. We’ve gone back to the tree, you know...we traced our paths to that one place - the only constant in any of our journeys, but it’s no use. Touching it again does nothing. Reciting spells or prayers, climbing to the top, walking around the base three, four, a hundred times... most of us have given up hope.” Anna let her eyes fall to the ground, and picked at a little mushroom poking its way out of the ground.

         Below, the smoky figures moved about their day, crowding the floor of the book lenders, hanging banners for the Fall Festival. Anika’s family was down there. Luce was down there. Yet Anika was...where exactly? She had begun to understand a little – it was not Luce who had disappeared, it was Anika herself, and she had gone to a place of shades. A realm of shadows. And it all had something to do with the Fallow Tree.

         “So, the answer lies with the tree.” Anika concluded.

         “Yes.” Anna looked at her curiously, waiting to see if she had dissuaded the young girl’s ambitions.

         Anika puzzled over the issue. From Anna’s explanation, the people of the little village in the woods had been trapped here for years, and they’d never escaped. Maybe it was time-based. Maybe there was a certain window of time to touch the tree again, and if one failed...they would be trapped in this shadow realm forever.

         “We need to go back to the tree,” Anika stated. Anna gave her a strange look, but Anika could see there was perhaps a little pride in her eye. Or was that pity for the young girl who understood nothing and would soon see her soul crushed?

         “Very well,” replied Anna, and they were off again.

         The walk was faster this time. Perhaps it was the adrenaline that burned in Anika, or the way her pulse quickened as each minute spilled away. By the time they reached the lake, she felt the tension under her skin would spark into flame. The Fallow Tree loomed ahead, a dark spiking crack in the robin’s egg sky. Anika shuddered at the sight.

         Anna was the one to push her forward and the two stumbled over the uneven rocks of the shore to the old tree.

         As they approached, Anika thought she saw something flickering at the very top of the Fallow Tree. It was a deep red, the color of a robin’s wing, or blood. Fire? No, it was her scarf. The one that disappeared from around her neck the moment she heard the scream. Did it have something to do with entering the shadow realm?

         Anika turned to Anna.

         “I’m going to climb the tree.”



         The amber forest, speckled here and there with red-orange bursts of color, rustled and bobbed all around Anika. Up at the top of the tree, she was above everything. The smoky whorls of the village were hardly visible from this distance, and she clung to the blackened branch with renewed hope. Anna paced on the ground, every so often glancing up with squinted eyes, a hand shadowing her face.

         She had promised to stay, even if what Anika suspected worked. Truly, Anika had no idea what to expect. Her hope was that the forest people she had met were wrong, and one of the things she tried would somehow allow her to wake up from this incomprehensible dream. Then she could find Luce and apologize to her.

         When Anna remained below, a dark little figure circling the tree instead of blipping from existence, Anika assumed there was more to her predicament. She began to climb down, scarf held fast in her hand. The gnarled bark was slippery under her boot, so she clung to the twisted branches as a squirrel crawls along the thinnest twig.

         Halfway down, the going was easier. With one hand, she wrapped the scarf around her neck, and began finding little crevices along the knotted trunk to force the toe of her boot in. Glancing down, she saw the familiar little squirrel hole that had caught her attention the day she came to this place. She placed her foot inside, began lowering herself.

         She slipped.

         Her heart plunged, her hands flailed as her eyes widened in terror...and then there was darkness.

* * ৡ * * ৡ * * ৡ * *

         Luce had dark hair, black as a raven’s wing, or the sky on a sharp winter’s night. Anika used to braid little white daisies into it and tell her they were stars. Luce would laugh, and Anika would smile. How she loved Luce’s laughter - the way a corner of Luce’s mouth lifted, and when she side-eyed Anika, there seemed to be a happiness in her meant only for her friend. Was that her laughter she heard now? She hoped so. She wanted to see Luce again, just one last time...

         Anika’s eyes snapped open. There above her hovered Luce’s face, a wide grin splashed upon it that sent light dancing in her hazel eyes.

         Anika sat up and pulled her into a hug.

         “Oh Luce, thank goodness! I’m sorry I left you, so sorry...” Anika cried. Her eyes closed and she let tears flow down her cheeks into Luce’s plait. Luce was murmuring something about how she had returned to the lake to search for Anika, retracing every last one of her steps all the way to the tree...

         When Anika opened her eyes, her friend still held fast in her arms, she saw Anna shaking her head in the shadow of an aspen. She stepped toward the embracing girls, and the sun poured forth upon her muslin gown and pale white skin.

         Luce noticed her friend had lifted her head and followed Anika’s gaze.

         “Who’s that?” she asked. Luce flicked her eyes between her friend and Anna, clutching Anika tighter when her friend froze in her arms. “Anika! Answer me, who is she?”

         Anna’s face held the same expression as the moment she had gazed over the smoke city – a jaded little frown. She was still shaking her head when Anika slumped to the ground in a faint.