A Portrait of the Woods and the Woman

The trees lurched his car as he drove around the mountain, above the lake. Each tree seemed to have a lustful vengeance for swiping up the little vehicle and tossing him straight into the lake. The road created sudden curves as he drove on through the tunnel inside the mountain. Each twist was closer and closer to suicidal fate.

The dismal man was heading to a cabin that he had rented. He mostly needed it to get away from the city which was destroying his every emotion and he also just had a morbid fascination with the woods. The cabin was conveniently placed in the center of a long-forgotten area that was never really inhabited to begin with. It would just be him and everlasting loneliness.

The shady man that rented him the cabin let him have an incomplete map with vague directions towards the little cabin. The only way he knew he was oriented in the correct direction was that the man said there would be a “mountain-tunnel thing” when you started to near it. He was currently under it so he assumed that the cabin would pop up near or towards the end of the seedy tunnel.

The top of the tunnel didn’t look like it was in a good condition so he sped up for the remainder of it. He made it out fine, and the glacier sky greeted him as if to say, “good luck!” in the devious voice that it acquired at birth.

He was so excited for the trip that he never bothered to admire the wonderful scene of green trees mixed with icy, grey sky or misty lake below that was translucent enough to see the sorrowful trees jutting through it furiously. Or he just didn’t want to look because such scenery could depress someone to the brink of perpetual despair.

Now that he was out of the tunnel (or cave, more appropriately) he still didn’t see the mysterious cabin that the man had told him about. It was still just dirt paths leading towards darkened forests of enigmatic wonders. He stopped in the middle of the street, since there were no sidewalks or other cars, and looked at the map. There was a bloody-red line that gave the general idea of heading straight. So he began to do so.

There were separate paths set up alongside him, but he took the path that led straight into a shadowy forested area. There was a large tree-tunnel hanging above the entrance into the black hole so he somehow knew that it would lead him to his destination.

Inside the forest-hell, there was nothing but trees to right and left of him. He could hear the minor scrapings of his car from the branches swiping him deftly while he drove by. He could no longer see the dull sky, but instead a swamp of arched green and villainous plants eating away at what used to be the ashy sky.

With a hint of fear in his brain and stomach he continued driving for a reason unknown to him. The drive never loosened up, it continued to be a desolate dirt road shrouded in green. It seemed perpetual as well; there appeared to be no end to the winding trees.

At the end of the journey, which lasted about ten minutes, he found a wooden box that he believed could be the cabin. It was set in a circular patch of land that was guarded by those familiar trees. The place was small, but he was only one man and could make it work. He decided early on that he would rather live in the cabin than in the busy intersections of the concrete town he normally resided in.

By this time, it was rearing up on six p.m. which didn’t leave him with much left to do for that day. He didn’t mind though, just finding the place was a enough to wear out a thousand men, and he felt that exertion.

He didn’t pack much for the trip, but he did bring a week’s worth of food which consumed most of his car. The man who gave him the key to the place mentioned that there would be basic supplies inside; blankets, candles, matches, and, most importantly, alcohol.

He went to his car and opened the trunk. The food flowed out of it but he somehow gained the strength and arm length to carry it up to the cabin. He set it on the cold porch while he dug out the keys to the place. He then opened it and shoved all the food inside.

Although the look of the place on the outside was small and undersized, it appeared to be an illusion because the inside felt spacious and roomy. There were two bedrooms, which were attached by the hallway that led to the living room. Connected to this hallway was also the bathroom and closet. The most impressing part of the entire home was the fireplace in the living room that jutted out of the wall. It was brick and took up more than half of the wall. The couch was placed conveniently in front of it for a perfect view of the cinnamon flames that he would light that night.

With not much to do, he walked outside and sat on the wicker chair that rested on the dusty porch. The musty wind picked up and blew the orange leaves solemnly across the ground. It created a sense of loneliness for him. There was no one there to view these leaves or feel the fragile air. It was just the trees and himself to see these rustled leaves and that wasn’t enough company. He pushed the feelings aside like he always did and drowned in the beauty of the nature outside instead. Eventually he fell asleep in the chair and didn’t dream of anything, just white. By the time he woke up, the stars were high and the moon was ample and frosty.

He decided to go back inside and visit the fireplace. For whatever reason, there were already unburned logs in the fireplace. So he used a lighter that he brought with him to light them. He sat back on the couch in front of the fireplace and waited for the fire to build up its ferocity, which it did.

He noticed something ghostly in the corner of his eye. Through the window next to him, he saw something. Or maybe it was somebody, he thought. He didn’t fear whatever it was; he sensed somehow that it was a friendly being.

He turned his body to get the full view and realized that it was a woman wearing all white. She had on a dress that was so white that he could see it even in the abysmal dark. She walked closer to the cabin, and the fireplace lit her appearance. She had auburn hair that was as flowing as a river down her arms and back. Her eyes were like azure diamond set in milky skin. Her lips were laced with a crimson lipstick.

She waited at the door for a few seconds, not knocking nor making any effort to inform him that she wanted in. He got up as quickly as he could opened the door for the, what seemed to be, apparition. He opened it and was about to ask something when she held up her index finger and put it to his lips. He knew that she wanted no words to be exchanged between the two. He also knew now that she was not a ghost because he felt the warm flesh of her finger on his lips. He stepped aside as a sign that she was allowed in. She brought her ethereal self to the couch and sat. She held her arms open to indicate that he was to be placed in them.

He took the hint and walked over to her and set himself in her arms. He didn't find anything strange about it, he just went with the flow. All the misery that he carried with him disappeared in that instant. He felt as if she wouldn't leave him, ever.

Somewhere during the night, while they were still holding each other, he decided that he loved her. He didn’t know her name or a single fact about her but he was absolutely infatuated by her. He had a strange feeling that he was being awarded for enduring so much loneliness in the past. He just hoped she’d stay with him.

They clung onto each other’s presence throughout the long, miserably cold night. She was so warm and comfortable that he hoped her skin would never leave his alone. Without warm flesh on his, he was a self-deprecating, cold being but with the flesh, he had some sort of resolution that couldn’t be retained when she was gone.

At some point, he figured it was morning, he felt a fading of warmth. She left his arms. He didn’t worry at first because he just figured she was in the bathroom. He opened his eyes and found that the sky was orange which meant it was around six a.m. now. After about five minutes he began panicking.

He turned his body towards the window and noticed something dreadful; his car was not present. The woman and the car evaporated from his life. He didn’t much care that she took it because he knew that she didn’t just use him, she took it so he’d be alone. Somehow she gained the knowledge that he hated loneliness and used it against him.

Without much though, he ran outside. He ran past the trees and through mud to get to the lake. Once he arrived he saw the car floating in the lake. She was not in it thankfully. He sat down on the ledge of that cliff and stared down at the lake. He began crying. With nothing left to do or see he trekked back to his cabin.

He went inside and sat. He decided that he was never leaving, not until she came back at least.