She Went Into the Woods

This dark and twisted place scares me…yet I know I belong here

The woods scare me. And yet, I am enticed by that darkness, by the twisted curl of branches, by the scuffling I hear in the shadows.

Something is out there. Something I want. I’m not quite sure what it is, but I long for it.

Dare I wander into that dark place? A place I know is filled with big, bad wolves? A place I know might put me in mortal danger?

Or do I stay here, where it’s safe? Where the path is clear? Where Grandmother awaits my arrival so she can fold me into her arms?

I know what I’m supposed to do. I know which way I’m supposed to go.

Yet…I can’t seem to help myself…

I want to follow my longing.

I lose the path immediately. It’s as if I’ve stepped over an invisible barrier into a world that no longer makes sense to me.

I can’t find my way.

But I keep going. Somewhere out there, there is something I want. Something I need. This thing that I long for.

The shadows grow larger with every step I take. The brambles tug at my dress, my cloak. Roots and shrubs make my ankle turn.

I can sense them in the darkness all around me. The wolves. In fact, if I pause for even a moment, quieting my footfall, holding my breath, I can hear them — I can hear their panting and the light scuffling of their feet on the forest floor.

It frightens me to hear them, to know just how close they really are.

So I don’t stop. I don’t hold my breath. I move as fast as I can in the darkness.

I can hear my mother’s voice in my head. “Foolish girl!”

I’m limping now. My ankle aches.

I have to slow down. I have no choice, even though I know they will come for me.

I hear that voice in my head again, so familiar, so safe, but so angry.

“You’re asking for it.”

I have to stop soon. It’s so dark. Has night come?

I know I should stop and gather wood to make a fire. I’ll perish in the cold, in the darkness.

Perhaps the light will protect me. Perhaps they will be too frightened of the sparks and flames to come near me.

Did I make a mistake to enter here? I can’t even remember why I came.

I’m lost. I cannot find my way. It’s so dark here. The undergrowth is so thick. I don’t even know from which way I came.

They’re behind me now. I can sense them.

I’ll never survive this.

I have no choice but to turn and face them.

They encircle me, a killing wreath of fur and teeth and claw. They growl and snarl and snap their jaws.

One lunges.

I scream.

They stop, heads low.

I scream louder. I growl. I snarl. I snap my jaws.

I step forward, snarling again. I bark and yip and swipe at them with my curled fingers.

I lean my head back and howl.

I run and run and run.

I can feel the brambles catching at my clothes. I can hear them ripping and feel the cold air hit my skin where the tears appear.

My hair comes undone, flying wildly around my face.

They are not following me.

They wouldn’t dare.

I burst through the thick bracken and find myself in a clearing. The light has returned, though it is dimming as the sun sets. I can see the path again, just ahead, twisting across the meadow and down a hill to where my grandmother lives. She’s not far from here.

I place my hands on my knees, leaning over to catch my breath. My skirt is ripped up to my thigh. One sleeve hangs by a piece of tattered fabric. My cloak is in shreds.

I hear my mother’s voice in my head again, admonishing. “Foolish girl!”

I look to the path that leads to Grandmother’s house.

I glance behind me at the gnarled branches of the forest, the dark shadows just beyond.

Still panting, my hair knotted and wild, I retrace my steps, returning to the place from where I just emerged.

I can’t help myself. Yes, I’m asking for it.

© Yael Wolfe 2021

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