What the Forest Wants

Each bump of the road sent pain clawing through my lower back. The heating pad buzzed against me like a dying insect, useless against the cramps that had dug their hooks in deep. I shifted in the passenger seat, hunting for comfort in Ryan’s 2001 Hyundai, but there was none — not with the backseat suffocating under tents, tarps, and enough trail mix to feed an army.

“Almost there,” Ryan said when I asked, though his voice bent with irritation. Out of half-closed eyes, I watched him stab at the screen of his phone. The map glitched, the car icon spinning in useless circles, the image flickering like a bad transmission.

Great. Just what we needed.

My uterus twisted sharper, and I curled into a ball in my seat.

This trip was supposed to be rescheduled. A fleece blanket, junk food, and sitcom reruns had been the plan. My plan.

Instead, Ryan had insisted. The meteor shower. The one chance in our lifetime. Blah blah cosmic wonder.

So here I was. In pain, in the wrong season, heading who knows where with a man who thought cramps were a footnote.

I should have said no. I should have been more adamant. But I caved. Because I knew he had been looking forward to taking time off from work, because I couldn’t stand to see him disappointed, and because I had felt him start to pull away when I said ‘I love you,’ and he didn’t.

The phone screen blinked once more, the car icon began to move, but the map it followed was different. The route twisted and wound deep through the woods. I mentioned it to Ryan, and in a tone that didn't tiptoe around my feelings, he told me it was the same one he had put in at the beginning.

But it wasn’t.

I know what I had first seen when he typed in the address. The glitch might have messed up the coordinates, I offered as an explanation, but he kept his eyes on the road ahead, his hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as the first sharp turn came up.

He narrowly avoided launching us off the cliffside.

“We’re lucky you’re not behind the wheel. In your condition, we'd be at the bottom of the mountain.” There was no amusement in his voice as he forced a chuckle.

My anger bloomed from my gut. No, it was a bit lower than that.

What the fuck did he mean by my ‘condition?’ I wanted him to explain himself, but as the question traveled up my throat and arrived at my lips, it refused to leave. With a sharp gasp, I swallowed the words instead.

They squirmed in my stomach as they died.

Ryan went on, musing over the lush landscape, untouched considering all the wildfires. He wondered out loud, more to himself than to me, how something so beautiful could exist in such glory for so long.

A story whispered to me from memory or was it coming from the woods outside: a tale of the first people of these lands, who believed that certain spirits and gods protected the forest, feeding it, keeping it alive.

Ryan laughed, loudly and harshly, too much so to be sincere. He mocked that I was too old to believe in fairy tales. That my hormones must be affecting my intelligence.

The fog rushed toward us, swallowing everything into silence. Leaning forward to peer out, I couldn’t tell where the road ended and the forest continued.

Ryan remained unchanged, until the GPS voice told him to turn right, and he did.

The volume icon on the app was crossed out in red.

Isn’t it beautiful, he had asked, as he jumped out of the car without waiting for a reply.

The towering pines looming overhead still held on to their needles, but the others, the smaller ones that circled the campsite, stood half undressed in skirts of crimson and gold leaves. Their branches, twisted and knotted, reached for the car. I was unable to move as they peered at me. I shut my eyes, my name whispered from among them, and the door swung open.

“What’s gotten into you?” Ryan asked as he rifled through the backseat, another rhetorical question.

Burning bile rose up my throat, and I barely managed to exit the car before it filled my mouth. It was acidic, bitter, metallic.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and pushed it down, taking in deep breaths to soothe my upset stomach. The more I inhaled, the worse I felt. The air was thick; it choked as it went into my lungs, squeezing them. It had the scent of pines, earth, and something else, something rotting and decaying beneath it. Something that was writhing in my stomach. Something I could not keep inside of me.

From between the trees, I doubled over, and a rush of viscous vomit shot from my mouth. It was putrid, like death leaving my soul. It was the same scent that was lingering in the air.

The forest floor absorbed it, too fast, as if it was thirsty. It all disappeared. Every last bit was gone. Swallowed up.

“You’re not about to puke all weekend, are you?” Ryan shouted. His voice sharp, accusatory, like I was doing it to spite him.

I fell to my knees and dug through the dirt. Small rocks and twigs stabbed and poked through my nail beds as I pulled at the ground, but there was nothing.

I had thrown up, hadn’t I?

No birds were chirping, no leaves were rustling; my own heartbeat had fallen silent.

Staring at my filthy hands, I laughed softly at myself, at the state of my clothes, at the pain burrowing itself in my pelvis - like tree roots spreading.

“Can you come out here and help me with this?” Ryan cursed as he struggled with the tent; the swishing of the plastic filled the campsite.

“I’m not feeling that great.”

“Once the tent is set up, you can rest inside. Now pull on that side.”

Everything I did was wrong and not done the way he had instructed. I apologized, said I must have misheard or not understood, as I squatted with my knees hugged to my chest.

He huffed and stomped over to do it right, glaring at me, mumbling under his breath that I was doing it on purpose.

Anger would build in that pit inside of me, but I would inhale, and the thick forest air smothered it.

The sun dipped low, and the trees moved in closer. Their branches reached for my hair and clothes when I wasn’t looking. I’d swat at them with my hand, but they were persistent.

“There’s bug spray in the glove box.” Ryan said, then added with a derisive laugh, “The mosquitoes must be able to smell your blood. I know I can. Grab the air freshener, too.”

I glared at him with tears brimming on the edge of my eyes, but he didn’t see them. I slammed the car door after retrieving the items. The noise vibrated in the air and the trees shook and groaned.

Ryan grabbed his backpack and told me there was a spot above the fog —a quick hike to see the sunset. I went to the car again to grab my hiking backpack, but Ryan was already deep in the forest when I turned around.

“I won’t be able to see it before dark if you tag along. Just stay here and get the food ready for dinner,” was his response, said too loud, too fast, too dismissive. And then he was gone, swallowed up in the fog.

His desire to be away from me lingered long after he was gone; it whispered back to me from the dead leaves blowing in the chill wind. Sometimes I thought it was the trees themselves. Calling to me to follow, to unbury, to burn…

With fumbling fingers I put my earbuds in; music would soothe me, and silence them.

The songs muted the forest, but they didn’t quiet my thoughts; they were tinder to my anger. They surfaced from that pit deep inside and rose like smoke up into my chest.

Sure, I wasn't feeling well, but he could have waited until tomorrow; there’d be another sunset then. I have put so much effort into being here, even when I feel like shit.

Hot tears burned and blurred my eyes. I opened my mouth to yell, to scream, to release the fire that had been building inside of me, but reason came in at the last second.

It would scare him. It would make him worry. It would upset him if he heard it.

I picked up two rocks and threw them instead. Hurled them as far as I could. One bounced off the ground and rolled deep into the woods. The other had hit a tree. I felt it when it made contact, felt the thud deep in my lower stomach.

The music cut out, and I heard the trees growl.

The nausea returned, and I fell to my knees, heaving.

Roots, gnarled, black, and wet, slithered from my mouth. Gasping, they slid back down.

I ran to the car, unable to move into the tent where I couldn’t see the trees. The fog thickened around me, and then I heard it. Slow, heavy, and like something being dragged across the dirt. I pressed down on the door lock each time I heard it get closer.

A shadow emerged from the fog - tall, like a walking tree. It drew nearer, and I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Something clawed in my stomach.

I opened my mouth to scream, but all that came out was a gurgling noise, and then words that were not my own.

It turned toward me and walked out from beneath the pines. It wore a white dress, tattered and stained, its arms were thin and long, the veins on them protruding and twisting like tree roots. Long tangled dark hair fell down its shoulders from the skull of an antlered beast with red, sticky flesh peeling off the bone.

My heart beat in my womb.

Its long hand scraped against the passenger window as it stared at me. Black voids peered into my soul. The car locks clicked open. Two hands gripped my arms, hard and tight enough to bruise. Trapping me.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” Ryan’s voice demanded.

I thrust myself into his arms and hugged him fiercely.

“It was...” I searched for the right word to describe, to make him understand, ”A monster.” I finally admitted, struggling with the pain that coiled deeper and tighter inside of me.

There was no sympathy in his gaze, no understanding, only anger and frustration. He pushed me away, hard.

“I know you don’t believe me, but…”

“You always do this. I don’t know why I thought you would act differently on this trip.” He was pacing, a silhouette in the fog, a storm brewing. “You didn’t even bring down any of the food. So now I have to do it, like everything else today.”

“You’re not listening to me, this thing appeared and…”

“Oh, enough. I get that you aren’t feeling well because it’s that time. But now your hormones make you see beasts?” He was fuming.

I paused and thought of what I had said to him—a monster. Maybe if I described what I saw, he’d hear me out, but as soon as the image flashed across my mind again, I doubted. Had I really seen it, or can pain make you hallucinate?

Moving slowly, back bent as it felt like my tubes were twisting around my uterus, I got out of the car and began to set up the propane stove.

“You’re really milking that, aren’t you?” He ripped the items from my hands and finished setting up. Every movement he made was sharp, quick, loud, as he tore packages open, slammed pans, and slapped the food together.

“Are you in too much pain to serve yourself?”

Shuffling over to the fire, I made my own plate.

I wanted to be angry, to scream at him, to throw things at him. But my hips throbbed, my back ached, and my legs felt too heavy. As I ate, tears salted each bite, and out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the trees moving in closer.

Night chased us inside the tent. I curled on my side, my sleeping bag wrapped closely around me. The electric heating pad buzzed faintly as the battery waned. Ryan’s attention was on his phone, zooming in and out of the map, a puzzled expression on his face, and mumbling that none of the spots he had wanted to see were appearing. All the highlights, all the trails, everything was gone. I mentioned the glitch from the drive, but he didn’t answer.

I heard the trees whispering outside, saw their branches poking through the fabric, trying to grab me. Curling deeper into the sleeping bag, I felt a rush of warmth fill my underwear. Shaking, I sat up and hugged my middle. In a low, pleading voice, I asked Ryan to accompany me outside. I needed to change.

He repeated the word ‘change’ as though not understanding what I meant. Digging through my bag, I pulled out a tampon and showed it to him.

“I’m really comfortable right now. Besides, you don’t need my help to change, do you?”

The flame inside leapt; something hot answered low in me, a wildfire I’d been smothering all day.

“You’re being such a dick!” I spat, all venom, “It’s dark and scary out there. Is it that much of a bother to stand and keep watch?”

“You want me to be inconvenienced over something that happens to you every month?”

“Helping with someone’s pain isn’t an inconvenience, if you love them.”

His lips formed a straight line as he looked away from me, gaze back on his phone.

“You’re an asshole.” In my haste, I hadn’t grabbed a headlamp. Changing a tampon while wearing several layers of clothing proved difficult. I knew I was going to end up with stains.

The cold, foggy night hit my bare skin, sending chills across my body. I felt the trees reaching for me again.

I rushed to insert the new tampon and felt warm blood cover my fingers; the used one fell to the ground. I made a note to find it in the morning... if the forest floor hadn’t swallowed it up by then.

The fog retreated. I felt it rush past me, but there was no wind. Then I saw it again, it walked out from the deep shadows between the trees. It was limping, as its long arms dragged behind it, but it made no noise.

I froze, pants still around my ankles.

It didn’t see me, though; it kept its gaze on the tent. Its hand reached toward the tent entrance, toward Ryan.

I screamed, but the noise gurgled and out came words that felt ancient as they passed through my lips.

It turned its head and looked right at me. I scrambled back, twigs and leaves scratching the exposed skin on my thighs, as I hurriedly tried to dress, to run away.

Rough, wet roots slithered up my legs and arms, pulling me up until I was hovering above the ground. With its thorny sharp finger it pierced into my stomach. No, it was lower, it was digging into my womb.

Pain exploded throughout my whole body, and I felt warm blood spilling like rivers down my legs. I screamed louder, the old words filled the forest and with each syllable my pain ebbed away. What had been tearing, ripping, and clawing inside of me was flowing out.

The roots lowered me to the ground, and gently wrapped around me. Squeezing, tightening, hugging.

Then there were more of them. They circled the tent, all in white dresses, long tangled hair down their backs. They repeated the exact words that were still coming from my mouth.

They chanted, they sang, and Ryan screamed.

He yelled for them to stop, to let him go, and when they didn’t, then did he say my name. He begged me for help; he pleaded, ‘for the love,’ that I’d help him.

The roots grew hot around me. I fed them the heat that had been ravaging my insides.

His cries filled the night, as a sudden white fire engulfed the tent. I watched, completely emptied. I felt nothing as it all burned. I was now a hollow cold.

The flames danced, and leapt as they grew larger. Never outward. Only upward.

I turned my gaze toward the sky they reached for and saw falling stars.