Follow Me Not

Growing up in a dimly lit part of the Pacific Northwest, I grew acquainted with all the urban legends and tales of the woods that a foresty seaside town could ever offer.

1. *Don’t keep your feet bare by the dark part of the sand for too long, or otherwise the jellyfish will get angry and sting you.*

2. *Be careful walking down the empty streets at night, as quiet as they may be. The wispy ghoulies of the mist will take you with them if you don’t look.*

But there was always one legend that stuck out to me. I remember first hearing it when my parents tucked me in one night.

I was six. They sat opposite of me in a padded set of rocking chairs with a central matching end table.

As they were lulling me to sleep with another one of their enacted bedtime stories, I was told of the great, scary mystery of the woods nearby.

“Don’t walk in there alone,” said my father impersonating an imposing adventurer.

“They say that doing so will lead you on what seems like an adventure. But, it’s a trap…” eerily chimed in my mother, failing to embody her scary-voice at the time.

“If you keep going,” continued my father, “you’ll find a secret lair in the middle of the forest. Full of wooden tools-”

”-and a cozy fire,” went my mother, “where the tip of the flame appears to want to be roaring.”

This narrated dance between my parents only appeared to grow stronger. And to my surprise, I found myself more engaged, and unsettled, by how elaborate this story was becoming.

“At first, you’ll want to approach the warm glow of the source of heat before you” hinted my father.

”But,” my mother interjected, “as soon as you get too close and enriched by its glow and warm embrace, it’s too late!”

Suddenly, the story turned wickedly dark.

“You feel this presence appear behind you, as it had been lurking and following you in the shadows for hours,” emanated my father.

“And in fright, you don’t know whether to remain still, or to turn around, and see, who’s there,” bellowed my mother.

“But, you just can’t help yourself, and you’re curious in the terror,” my mother whispered.

“And you turn around; to find… a horrific creature! Dawned with a twisted face, baring a deformed mixture of wood, mud,… and blood,” fiendishly explained my father.

”And where there would be eyes,” ghoulishly followed my mother, “instead are soulless sockets, looking into your heart, and wanting to steal yours,” as she began to maniacally laugh.

“They slow down time when they look into you,” my parents frighteningly uttered in unison, “and steal your soul as they horrify you to death my merging their soulless sockets with your eyes, becoming you.”

I began to whimper and rapidly mumble, petrified by what I thought was just going to be another soothing tale.

“Curiosity kills my darling,” devilishly said my mother.

“Curiosity kills,” followed my father.

I began to sob. “Why Mom and Dad? Why?”

“Oh honey, I’m sorry,” my Dad said remorsefully as he hugged and comforted me.

“We went overboard on that one sweetie. It’s okay, it’s just a fairytale,” my mother said reassuringly.

As my parents comforted me while they talked with each other in detail about getting too creative with their storytelling over the years, I fortunately fell asleep again to the good voices of the people I love.

It’s been twelve years since that night.

When I was thirteen, a neighbor from across the street knocked on my door and told me the news. My parents had passed away in their sleep, mysteriously, while on a camping trip.

Coroners couldn’t determine if environmental or intentional poisons were the cause. But all I could think about, was that their death was also a fairytale, a dream.

I’ve been waiting five years to wake up from this dream.

And finally, as an adult, all grown up on my own, I decided it was time.

Before me lied a sea of redwoods, greeted by a virtually decimated metal-lined fence as a makeshift entryway.

I knew it was gonna be a long trek.

I had my traveler backpack, more than enough water for a couple of days, some well-kempt food and clothing, and camping supplies.

And most importantly, I had a pocket-sized picture of my parents.

They seemed so happy in this one.

It brought me back to a memory, a couple of years after the horror story they told me for bedtime.

We were walking on the beach, along the shore. I was barefoot, and remembered the spooky legend about the jellyfish and dark part of the sand.

My parents in noticing my apprehension provided some words of relief, starting with Mom, “Oh darling, don’t worry about the jellyfish. They’re usually harmless. And they don’t come up to shore this time of year, let alone come up this closely in shallow waters at all.”

My nine-to-ten year old self sighed in relief and decided to play in the shallow water for the first time in awhile.

While smiling, my father noted, “maybe we’ve gotten too imaginative in our stories with her over the years,” my mother laughing in agreement and nodding.

I returned back to present day, smiling to myself and feeling gentle tears slowly drip down my face.

“Mom, Dad, I’m sorry. I just need to know what’s in these woods,” I told them in spirit while looking at their picture.

I ventured down the oddly untattered dirt path, exactly as my parents described to me when telling their story that led to the lair.

All I kept seeing were more and more redwoods, and some groves of more open space letting in plenty of natural light.

Just ahead, overlooking the main view of the forest, was a slightly-inclined peak.

In wonder and awe, I ran forward, eager to see the view before me.

“Wow,” I said to myself, amazed, “it’s right out of Mom and Dad’s… story…” I trailed off.

I shuddered momentarily and ran further to find something that my parents themselves quoted to just be a fairytale.

It was the secret lair…

The adorned tables with the wooden tools, the fire pit, which thankfully was not lit; and even the giant tree that was one of the few to not be redwood was there; exactly as they put it!

Shortly after my thought-to-be long drawn period of shock about my discovery, I turned to hear a slight struggle and whimper.

What I saw next was truly awful.

It was, a, person? Or no, it, it was a creature. I- I think I was seeing a fairy.

Right out of a storybook, there was a miniature humanoid figure, with sparkling wings desperately attempting to flitter out of a dire situation.

They were adorned with purple wear.

What was more alarming was the deeper purple light surrounding them. Like my parent’s story, time seemed to severely slow around this innocent creature.

Worse… there was a hole in their chest.

”Where is their heart?”

To the left, next to the table with the wooden tools, was another table, with contraptions that appeared to be holding, keepsakes… for a lack of a better term.

On a shrunken version of a concaved metal shelf, was what appeared to be the fairy’s heart, beatening all the more quickly, as if terrified and dying!

“Oh my god, you poor thing! We need to get you out of here!”

As I was about to reach over and try to help, a thundering snap emanated from behind me, pulling me back and onto the ground!

I screamed clamorously as everything went black!

When I came to, I was standing, just where I was before whatever arrived took me with them.

The fire pit was on this time, glowing and warm.

“Oh no,” I whispered to myself, startled.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the fairy, dead. Their eyes were devoid of color, of life. Their skin was pale and drained of warmth. They lay splayed on the table where they were slowly tortured and terrified to death.

I gulped to myself.

While the fire in front of me was warm and comforting, behind me, was the coldest I ever felt. I knew someone or something was waiting just inches from my back.

I could feel the terror flooding my limbs, wanting my extremities to tremble into a mad sprint.

All the while, I could hear my parents’ voices in my head. “You don’t know whether to remain still, or to turn around and see who or what is behind you. Out of curiosity, you can’t help but turn around!”

And as exactly as they told me, I so badly wanted to look ahead and pretend that this was a horrible nightmare, where one would pinch me and it would all be over.

But I felt it, the urge, the nagging need for certainty compelling me to turn around.

And while petrified, I managed to fully turn around.

And what, or rather who, or whom; I saw next, chilled me to the core.

The monster, the one my parents described that bares such vicious characteristics of a woodland evil, had the torso and limbs of amalgamated wood, foliage, blood, and minerals.

But their face, was that of my parents!

I began tearing up and openly crying, “Mom! Dad!”

”Hello sweetie,” they said darkly in unison.

The voice that came from them sounded nothing like my parents.

It was devoid of good and hope.

I began sobbing profusely, unable to move, but only watch as this creature slowly closed in.

“What did we tell you when you were little?” They asked, “what did we tell you that night?”

I couldn’t bare to answer their question. So I continued to tearily whimper to myself.

”Ask us” my monstrous parents asked in a falsely inviting way, whispering, “what did we tell you, when you were little?”

I managed to mingle some words in between my whimpers and sobs, “what did you tell me when I was little?”

“Curiosity kills my darling,” said my mother’s head

“Curiosity kills,” my father’s head followed.

I sobbed even further, feeling like I failed the people I love. Only to discover, that they lied to me this whole time.

“What else did we say sweetie,” this horrific creature asked.

”Ask us again honey, what did we tell you?”

“What did you tell me,” I whimpered, knowing very well what was going to follow.

“Don’t go in the woods alone,” they growled as one

With that being said, they pounced at me, giving me one last gutteral scream before everything went blank.

This time, when I came out of it, at first I thought I saw a new morning, a new day.

For a split moment, I though to myself, “maybe this all was a horrible dream.”

But then, I saw my vicious hunter-parents, feasting on my heart, and from the look of the surrounding area of the lair, probably on the rest of my entrails as well, not to mention my entire body.

As I was floating, I saw they had put a photo of me, as well as the one I had of them, on a dark wooden table with a collection of trinkets, including the dead and very literally disheartened fairy.

“Our sweetheart,” said my mother in a pride-and-joy like fashion.

“Another to add to our collection,” giddily went my father.

“You know what this calls for,” cheeped my mother.

“Family-selfie time,” my demon parents exclaimed as one!

“Ahh, you always were one to catch on to the silly things weren’t you,” my mother playfully chided in banter.

“You know me too well,” my father said with a knowing glint and tone.

They proceeded to kiss each other, with slight remnants of my mesentery acting as makeshift saliva between their lips as they parted this kiss.

“Now,” they bellowed in unison, transforming and merging their faces into mine, “I hate to do this with our precious daughter’s soul still lingering around,” said my father; “but I think it’s time we pay a visit to our wonderful neighbor for taking such good care of our kiddo while we went to hibernate with all our treasure,” said my mother.

As they decided it was time to impersonate me and lure my neighbor to their equally grotesque and untimely death, this hellspawn of a parental unit formed spider legs and lion paws, and went blazing toward the faraway entrance from which only hours to days ago I entered.

As my soul remained floating there for the time being, I incomprehensibly went to myself, “They… were trying to warn me… I should’ve listened.”