3/5/2018

Sunlight filtered softly through the canopy of branches overhead, a cool breeze rustling what few leaves remained. I treaded softly through the underbrush, ferns and dead leaves crinkling under my feet. A couple of squirrels playing a friendly game of tag dashed across the boughs above me, and the sound of merry birdsong echoed between the trees. Nature was beautiful.

I used to come out here all the time, but once the dreams started, I became less fond of the woods. It wasn't their fault, of course. The trees were my friends. They were kind to me. But whatever dwells inside my mind took them from me and twisted them into something evil, something cruel and coming after me. My foot slipped briefly on a patch of wet earth, and I gasped, visions of the pit flashing in my mind. I shook my head, trying to clear it of that thought, and continued walking.

I came upon the stump of a tree I'd cut down several years back. It stood as sturdy as the day I brought the saw down upon it. I laid my hand on the smooth ringed surface and thanked my friend for his sacrifice. He had helped to warm my home during a particularly frigid winter. I sat down upon the tree remnant and pulled from my pocket a slender green instrument. My tin whistle. A traditional folk instrument used in Celtic culture, of which I was very fond. Perhaps my ancient Celtic blood was what brought me here to think.

I put the black mouthpiece to my lips and blew a soft trill. The squirrels stopped to look at me, and the birds paused their song. My mouth went a little dry; I hadn't expected an audience. Very well. I took a swig from my water bottle and put the whistle back to my mouth.

A quick tune shrilled from my instrument, filling the crisp air with a dancing spirit. I could almost feel the ghostly presence of Druids long since passed coming back to dance as I played. Birds perched on the nearest branches, staring curiously down at me. One seemed to be trying to chirp along...at least, until its neighbour pecked it in the head, and it hopped a couple of indignant paces away. A squirrel crept up in front of me, sitting back on its haunches, chittering at my song.

I finished my tune, and none of the animals seemed to want to leave. I smiled. I'd never felt quite so popular. I put the whistle back to my mouth again, this time playing a low memorial song. The small creatures around me seemed positively enthralled. I couldn't deny that I was as well. It was as though a band seemed to form around me, adding their parts to my song. I could hear a distant drum playing the beat, then some hidden strings began to strum. I could've sworn a viol of some sort began to hum a low harmony. And then the pipes.

I closed my eyes, feeling the power of the music filling the air around me. The forest came alive and waltzed to the invisible melody. Emotion swelled within me; I wasn't quite sure why. I suddenly felt a surge of power, like I was able to conquer anything that stood before me.

I opened my eyes. The music came to a screeching halt. An eight-legged hellspawn was crawling up my leg. I leapt to my feet, throwing the arthropod from my pants, and stomped viciously upon the spot where it hit the ground. When I finally felt safe once more, I looked up and around. I was alone once more. Slowly, I brought my instrument back to my lips and finished the final bar of my song.