Violet Was Falling

Violet was falling, and that was the extent of the information her brain had to work with until she collided with the ground. She lay there in a pile of leaves, looking up through the branches that had tried to slow her fall, failing miserably. But things could be worse, she reasoned, as she was still conscious.

Slowly she rolled onto her back, because she could. If anything were broken, it wasn’t her back or neck. The ground was sandy and soft, not soft compared to her bed, but compared to rock or concrete, practically dreamy.

She looked up again, but tall pine trees kept her from seeing where she’d fallen from. Fallen, a weird word that did not encompass what had just happened. She assumed she had fallen, but that was all a blur of “Look at the cute baby birds,” and “Where? I want to see?” and then the ground slipping away.

Processing too much at once, Violet focused on her body. There was no way she was unbroken. Dave would have to hike up the ridge for cell service and call CareFlight. She pictured her husband frantically trying to find a path to the canyon floor, and listened for his call. Nothing.

Had she fallen? The question crept back in, remembering a firm hand on her back, guiding her along the ridge trail. No, she needed to stay focused on her current situation..

Her left arm was broken, but that’s probably what saved her. She remembered the pain from it smacking branches during the fall, flipping her sideways before she crash-landed. Maybe her hip, something felt wrong there, if throbbing pain was any sign. She wondered if she could walk, and decided it was impossible. Also, as bad as she felt, there had to be internal damage.

For once, she was relieved that she’d married an orthopedic surgeon; he would know what to do. Almost twenty years of late nights, early mornings, and trips to conferences were literally going to save her.

“Dave, I’m here! Dave!”

But the forest remained eerily quiet.

Violet tried to sit up, but couldn’t. Using her good arm, she contorted herself into a half leaning position, resting on one elbow.

The forest around her was still quiet, probably a result of her noisy descent through the trees. Now the only things descending through the leaves were sunlight and tiny fluttering forest debris. The air smelled of damp autumn leaves, cool sandy earth, and wild pine.

How far had she fallen, and why wasn’t Dave there yet? Maybe he couldn’t find a path, or maybe it was hard to pinpoint where she’d landed. She panicked and continued to call for him, even though there wasn’t an answer…until there was.

“Please stop being so loud,” said a voice behind her.

Startled, she tried to crane her neck to see who’d spoken, wincing with pain.

“Stay still,” said the voice again, leaning over her, black curls brushing against her cheeks. “You’re hurt, and it’s bad.”

The voice was male, but quiet and delicate. Strong, pale hands felt along her arm, ghosting over her hip.

“You probably won’t make it through the night if you stay out here. Do you think you can walk?”

“No,” said Violet. “I think my hip; it’s broken or dislocated or something.”

“Then there’s not much to be done,” he said. “You are bleeding inside as well, so you are probably dying.”

“If you can find my husband, he’s a doctor. He can help.” Her body was reeling from pain that was finally creeping around the shock.

“Please,” she said, the pain and desperation heavy in her mouth.

“Are you sure you want him to find you? He’s the reason you’re here.”

“No, that’s not possible. I’m sure he’s frantic, looking for me,” she said.

Pain was muddling her ability to think clearly. Her hip, her arm, and now something more sinister deep inside her ached. She remembered the hand on her back as she’d peered over the edge of the cliff to see a nest of baby birds Dave had spotted. He’d been pointing it out when she fell.

There was that word again, mixing reactants to create a product. The hand on her back and the fall. The new word, the correct word, was pushed. She’d been pushed, and the panic of that knowledge bubbled up in a sob accompanied by realization.

“He will find you, so the real question is, do you want him to find you alive?” asked the voice from behind her.

Violet stopped trying to hold herself upright and lay back on the ground, staring up as the pain made her nauseous. From this new angle, she could finally see the person with whom she’d been conversing. He was young, barely twenty, pale features as delicate as his voice, with unruly black curls. He wore black boots and tactical pants with a long-sleeved olive drab flannel shirt.

“Will you help me?”

“I will if you ask me properly,” he said, grinning as if he were not looking at a medical emergency incarnate. He was flirting at the most inappropriate time. “And you have to admit owing me a debt, just the one. It is a trade; because nothing in the forest is done for free.”

The man leaned over Violet and brushed her hair out of her eyes so he could stare into them as they became unfocused. His fingers felt cool and soft as he stroked her cheek.

“Please help me,” she mumbled before passing out.

She believed she was dreaming, lying there slipping in and out of consciousness. The soft forest floor felt alive beneath her. Little delicate stems brushed against her sides, working their way into her clothes and tickling her face, neck, and ears. At first, she thought it was bugs and tried to wriggle away, but the part of her that wriggled refused to cooperate. She closed her eyes against the intrusion but eventually reverted to quiet sobbing as she moved between waking and sleeping.

When she finally awoke, it was dusk. She didn’t hurt any longer, but still couldn’t find the energy to move. The forest was no longer silent. She could hear birds calling from tree to tree, rustling noises around her. She felt insects climbing her arms, and a leaf slowly floated down to land on her face.

The young man immediately brushed it away.

“You’re awake, and just in time,” he said before disappearing from her field of vision.

Heavy footsteps crunching through leaves caused the forest to go silent again. She heard her name.

“Violet! Violet, where are you?”

Dave; he’d finally found her.

“I’m here! I’m over here.”

“Thank God,” said Dave as he ran to her. He didn’t notice the young man sitting a few yards away in the forest's shadow.

“I’ve been looking everywhere. Can you move?”

“No, my arm’s broken and my hip, and I think I’m hurt inside,” said Violet, as she cried with relief. “It’s not hurting as much as it was, but I can’t move.”

“Okay, honey, just stay still and let me find something to use as a splint.”

Dave found a large, thick stick the size of a baseball bat. He smacked it against his hand hard a few times, making sure it was sturdy.

“Sweetie, can you stay really still for me, because it will only hurt for a second.”

Violet looked at him, horrified as he stood over her, branch raised high above his head to deliver the finishing blow. She closed her eyes, but when nothing happened, she opened them again to find Dave was frozen in place.

The young man emerged from the shadows.

“That’s not the proper way to apply a splint.” His voice was full of mischief as he circled the pair, Violet still on the ground and Dave hovering over her in mid-swing.

“What…what did you do to me. I wasn’t going to.... It’s a joke,” said Dave, trying desperately to move, drop the big stick, anything but stand there incriminating himself further.

“I see you are standing over your wife, who has life-threatening injuries from being pushed off a cliff, menacing her with a big stick, but it’s all just a joke. I’m sure a jury of your peers will accept that.”

“Why you…”

“What’s your name, dear?”

Violet was crying too hard to answer. The man signed heavily and asked again.

“Try to focus on where you are and what’s happening; it’s important. Now, sweetest, tell me your name.”

She hiccuped, but managed a response.

“Violet. My name is Violet Meadows.”

“Oh, that’s perfect. You can keep it, but you cannot keep him.”

“This is insane,” said Dave, still trying to move.

“Absolutely insane,” said the man walking past him, to crouch next to Violet.

“You belong to me now, Violet, to the forest. You agreed to one debt if I’d help you, and I have fulfilled my end of the agreement.”

“I…I don’t understand. Who are you and what have you done to Dave?”

“I’ve given him your death. I bargained with the forest on your behalf. You get to live, good job.”

Dave was furious, his face red as if he might have a stroke any minute, having been ignored by his wife and the stranger.

“I don’t care who you are, because when I get through with you, you won’t even be a bloodstain on the dirt. I’ll bury the two of you in one big grave and no one will ever know.”

The young man rose from the forest floor and spun to face Dave.

“Your wife asked a question, and it’s vulgar of you to interrupt. Further outbursts will determine how much you suffer before you die. I am Lempo, a demon king of the forest.” He spun back to face Violet, tone softening, “And you, dear Violet Meadows, are mine, and I will protect you until the end of time.”

“But I don’t want to be your yours? This is…I want to go to a hospital, and I want to go home.” Violet cried again.

“Why? Stop crying, calm down, and think about your empty, loveless life. Isn’t the forest beautiful, and it saved you. It…we want you.”

Violet lay there on the forest floor again and considered her options. She looked up at Dave, angrily hovering above her, still holding the branch over his head, ready to bludgeon. He’d pushed her off the cliff, not the first time he’d hurt her. What was she going home to: an empty house, memories of an unhappy marriage, and questions about his disappearance?

She sat up, and with her came tiny tendrils of forest foliage. They’d gently wrapped around her, soothing her when she was in pain. But she wasn’t in pain any longer. She watched as her injuries became her husband’s injuries.

With a loud pop, his arm broke, and then his hip displaced—the top of his femur almost protruding through his khaki shorts. Blood trickled down his ears, and he began sobbing.

“No. It’s not fair. I have a girlfriend and she’s pregnant, please let me go. I’ll pay you whatever you want. Violet’s insurance is two million. It’s all yours.”

As Dave begged, Violet’s heart broke again and then hardened at the revelations. She’d known some of the truth, but had pretended and made excuses, but that she was just a payoff was too much.

Lempo disregarded the cries but looked at Violet and pointed to Dave.

“He did this to you; see the brokenness. And the forest healed you for me.”

Violet climbed to her feet, moving slowly in case this were all a fever dream and she might crumble back to the forest floor, and walked towards the young man.

“I will stay, but you are too young for me to be yours. It’s not right.”

“Beautiful Violet, I told you that the forest healed you.”

And suddenly her she felt vitality coursing through her. Her hands, uncallused and unblemished, touched her smooth young skin. She giggled, feeling renewed. With each step towards Lempo, wildflowers bloomed behind her and filled the forest with fragrance.

Dave continued wailing and pleading.

“It’s your choice. I can reverse everything and allow him to do what he planned, but isn’t this sweeter?” He held out his hand to her, and she took it.

A moment later, Dave cracked the wooden branch onto his own head, and he fell limply to the forest floor, into the exact spot where Violet had lain. Tiny seedlings on the forest floor climbed across him, covering him completely, flowers blooming from eye sockets, and a sapling grew from his chest.

No one would ever find them, two hikers missing in the forest.