There is a distant isle,
Around which sea-horses glisten:
A fair course against the white-swelling surge,--
Four feet uphold it.
- Excerpt from "Voyage of Bran, Son of Febal"
As the little girl’s rubber boots squished across the damp, mossy forest floor, she shivered with growing unease. Her yellow boots and raincoat stood out starkly against the earthy greens of the trees that towered around her.
Peering into the encroaching darkness, she couldn’t help but recall the stories.
Mother used to love telling bedtime stories. She would sit by the little girl’s bed each night, her familiar face lit only by a single, flickering candle. Her favourite stories to tell were the ones about the fairfolk who lived in the woods surrounding their tiny log home.
The fairfolk from Mother’s stories were nothing like the friendly, winged pixies the little girl remembered from storybooks. No, these were mysterious, otherworldly beings who kidnapped unsuspecting little girls who lost their way in the woods, trapping them forever in the fairy realm. One night, Mother told the little girl a particularly chilling tale of how she herself had once visited the fairy realm, and had barely escaped with her life.
“So never stray from the path when you go into the woods, my little miracle,” Mother would say. “And never eat the food of the fairfolk, not even a bite. Or you’ll never find your way home again.”
The little girl had never been to the fairy realm, or even seen a fairy. Father had told her not to worry, because Mother’s stories were just make believe. But still, whenever the little girl would venture into the woods, she always stuck to the path just to be safe.
But not today.
In fact, today, the little girl felt that she would like nothing more today than to be spirited away to the fairy realm. Ever since her new baby brother had been born, Mother and Father had been all but indifferent toward the little girl. They were always tired, and the baby took all their attention.
Meals were mostly silent, aside from the baby’s mewling cries. The moment he began to fuss, they would both hurry to his side, leaving the little girl to eat her dinner alone. There were no more family movie nights, no more picnics in the woods, no more father-daughter fishing trips, and no more bedtime stories. They had even stopped calling her by her detested nickname – “our little miracle.”
It was clear that her parents had found a new little miracle.
It was for these reasons that the little girl had decided to run away. And what better place to go, she thought, than to another world where there would be no baby brothers to replace her?
As usual, Mother and Father had been busy with the baby. They hadn’t noticed when the little girl grabbed her boots and coat, and walked right out the back door. They didn’t notice as she set off through the yard into the stillness of the woods, and down the path toward the lake where she and Father used to go fishing on the weekends before the baby came.
When she could no longer see her home through the trees, the little girl stopped at the edge of the path. She hesitated for just a moment before gingerly planting one foot in the spongy moss that covered the forest floor on either side of the path.
“Come and get me, fairies!” she called, cupping her hands over her mouth. “I’m here, I’m here! Come and get me!”
There was no response, just the faint rustle of the wind through the trees.
“Come and get me, fairies!” she called again.
When she was once again met with silence, the little girl huffed and walked straight into the dark trees. Their skeletal branches seemed to reach for her, drawing her further from the familiarity of the path. The wind continued to dance through the canopy leaves like a thousand whispering voices.
Before she knew it, it had begun to get dark. The little girl’s tummy was rumbling and aching with hunger, and she was hopelessly lost. A dense, cold fog had crept in, seeping through her raincoat and chilling her to the bone. She felt like she had been wandering the forest for weeks rather than hours.
It must be close to dinner time, she thought. Mother and Father have to be missing me by now.
The little girl had given up on crying for help. The trees and the moss muffled her voice so the sound barely carried past her own lips. It was suffocating. She knew that no one would hear her, no matter how loudly she cried.
A while later, the little girl heard the sound of water flowing nearby. Her tired eyes lit up.
A creek! She thought. If I can follow the creek downstream to the lake, I’ll be able to find my way home!
She followed the sound of the water until the trees suddenly opened up to reveal a large clearing. The fog hung low to the ground, and the little girl could faintly see the glow of fireflies shimmering through the mist. A small creek ran through the center of the clearing, splitting the mossy floor almost evenly in half.
As she stepped into the clearing, the little girl noticed she could no longer hear the whisper of the wind. The only audible sound was the lazy trickling of the creek. The little girl noticed the water was not very deep, ankle-high at most. She was glad she had thought to wear her boots – she would be able to walk straight through the creek until she reached the lake. From there, she would easily be able to spot the path and return home to her family.
A smile lit up the little girl’s face. She could practically smell the familiar aroma of her mother’s cooking, wafting from the woodstove in the warm, cozy kitchen. She couldn’t wait to leap into her father’s waiting arms. She even missed her baby brother.
The little girl stepped into the creek, but before she could take even one step downstream, a flash of red on the opposite bank caught her eye.
Wild strawberries! The little girl realized. These berries were familiar to her; they grew abundantly along the banks of the lake where she and Father used to fish.
Her tummy grumbled with anticipation. Her muscles ached for sustenance. The little girl crossed the stream and squatted down for a closer look.
The tangle of berries grew close to the ground; they looked ripe and juicy. She carefully popped one into her mouth. It was tangy, and tasted sweeter than any wild strawberry she had ever eaten before. The little girl helped herself to the remainder of the berries, popping them into her mouth one by one to savour the delicious sweetness.
She stood up to notice the fog had lifted. The fireflies danced around her, and the thick moss that obscured the forest floor and the tree trunks seemed lusher and greener than ever. It no longer seemed so dark. In fact, the very air seemed to glow with a warm light that came from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The little girl straightened her raincoat and returned to her mission, splashing through the shallow water as she traipsed along the rocky creek bed in the direction of the lake.
But more time passed, and the little girl did not reach the lake. The creek wound on and on, seemingly unendingly, through the dense trees.
“I want to go home,” the little girl cried out loud, as her eyes filled with tears.
This time, she was astonished when a whispering voice answered her from somewhere deep in the trees: But child, you are home.
The little girl froze, suddenly paralyzed with fear. She listened again for the voice. But she couldn’t hear a thing, not even the wind. Not even the water flowing in the creek below her.
“Who’s there?” the little girl called, trembling as she tried not to choke on the suffocating way the forest muffled her voice.
Do you not recognize us, little one? Came the voice. The hair on her arms stood up straight, and goosebumps covered the little girl’s flesh.
Like the mysterious warm light that lit the forest air around her, the voice seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It wasn’t a voice she could hear like Mother’s or Father’s, or even her baby brother’s, but instead one she felt deep inside her chest. The voice crawled beneath her skin and wound itself around her heart and lungs like the boa constrictor she had seen at the zoo last year.
The voice sounded just like the whisper of the wind, or the babble of the creek, or the squishing of her boots on the damp moss. It sounded like bird calls in the distance, or the rustle of critters scampering through the underbrush. It sounded like many voices, all chiming together in a single, eerie chorus.
“Who are you?” the little girl sobbed, tears pouring down her face. “I want to go home! I want to see Mother!”
It was we who loaned you to your False Mother, the voice replied. Do you not remember? Before we placed you in her belly, you were one with us. One with the wind, the trees, the moss, the brook, and the sky.
“No!” the little girl screamed, stomping one foot. The water made no sound as it splashed up from the creek and soaked her dirty jeans. “I don’t believe you!”
She sought us out, much like you did today, the voice continued. She was seeking her own little miracle, a child to love. We sent you to her temporarily, on the condition that you would one day be returned to us. But she never returned, and you never strayed from the path, so we could never reach you. But now you’re here, and you never have to see your False family again.
The little girl’s body shook with sobs. She looked down at her hands, only to notice with dismay that she could see straight through them, all the way down to her yellow boots. As if she were disappearing. She clenched her ghostly hands into fists and dashed into the woods, screaming for help. Screaming for Mother and Father.
“I want to go home!” the little girl wailed. But she knew no one could hear. No one but the fairies, and the little girl knew she had fallen into their trap.
I should never have strayed from the path.
This is your true home, child, the voice whispered all around her. You called for us, did you not? You are safe here. Here you will never be replaced, never ignored. Stay with us, little one, and do not fear.
“I don’t want to stay!” the little girl yelled, searching frantically for an escape. But all the trees looked the same. She had reached the deepest part of the forest. “I want to see Mother and Father!”
The little girl looked down at herself again and cried out in terror. Her hands and arms had completely disappeared now, and she was fading faster and faster.
“No!” the little girl sobbed, crumpling to the ground and curling into a tight ball. “Please, someone, help me!”
The more the little girl faded, the more her screams began to meld and mesh with the strange whisper of the fairies, until finally they shared a single voice. She looked down to see that her body had disappeared completely.
She knew somehow that she was no longer a little girl. She had become something more. One with the trees, with the wind that whistled through their leaves. She was one with the water that flowed through the creek into the lake. She could feel all of nature inside herself, and herself inside all of nature.
I should never have strayed from the path.
She flung herself forlornly into a gust of wind and let it carry her high above the treetops. The sun had set, and millions of stars twinkled in the night sky.
Finally, she spied the little log cabin that had formerly been her home. She could hear sirens. Mother and Father, alongside several police officers, were running around the outskirts of the yard along the treeline, screaming her name. Her baby brother was cradled tightly against Mother’s chest as she searched in vain for her lost miracle.
Mother, Father, I’m here! Come find me! She tried to cry in her strange new voice, but she knew her parents could not hear.
I should never have strayed from the path.
***
As the years crept slowly by, the little girl remained trapped in the Realm of the Fairfolk. Months passed before Mother and Father finally ended their search, and she watched helplessly as they grieved for her.
I’m sorry, I should never have run away! She would cry to them. But Mother and Father could never seem to hear her.
Life in the fairy realm wasn’t bad, all things considered.
Every night the fair folk held lavish parties and elaborate feasts. There were no rules, they simply played and frolicked all day long. The fairies enjoyed playing pranks on unsuspecting hikers and campers who dared to venture off the forest path. When the fairies were happy, the sun would shine, and the breeze would dance through the lush green trees. When they were angry, storm clouds would clog the sky and torrential rain would fall in heavy, blinding sheets. Generally, the fairies allowed the little girl to do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted to do it. She never had to sleep, go to school, or brush her teeth.
But the little girl could never have the one thing she wanted most: to go home. And she never grew older.
Instead, the little girl watched as her baby brother matured and grew into a lively little boy. Slowly, as Mother and Father healed, they settled back into their quiet life. They had family movie nights, Mother sat next to his bed by candlelight and told him bedtime stories. Sometimes, the little girl would hover outside the little boy’s bedroom window and listen.
When he got a little older, Father began taking the little boy on fishing trips to the lake. The little girl watched from a distance to make sure he never strayed from the path. She noticed that often, Father would squint far into the darkness of the woods, as if part of him still hoped that if he just looked hard enough, his little miracle would come walking back out of the trees.
During one of such moments, the little boy grew bored and began to wander too far into the shade of the trees while Father wasn’t paying attention.
No! The little girl cried. Don’t stray from the path!
She was astonished when the little boy stopped and tilted his head quizzically.
“Hello?” he called into the darkness.
Can you hear me? She asked, but the little boy’s eyes continued to dart around, confused.
The little girl shouted at him, using all her concentration: If you can hear me, don’t stray from the path. Don’t go into the woods alone. Tell Mother and Father I miss them, and that I’m sorry I strayed from the path. I love you, baby brother.
The little boy’s eyes widened. But Father had noticed he was gone, and was hurrying up the bank toward the treeline.
“What are you doing over here, buddy?” Father asked, scooping the little boy up onto his shoulders and looking around apprehensively. “You know what I said about going into the woods alone.”
After that, the little girl watched the little boy play in the yard each day. First with his blocks, then later with his remote-control trucks, and finally with the telescope Mother gave him for his 10th birthday. He never again ventured into the woods alone, and when he accompanied Mother and Father, he never strayed from the path.
But sometimes he would look toward the treeline and smile, and the little girl couldn’t be sure, but it was almost as if he were looking right at her.
© Victoria St. Michael 2021