I went on a walk through the old woods some time ago. After returning from my time abroad, I thought it a good idea to reacquaint myself with the lands of my birth and youth. I had traveled as far as I could from home for my education, to rid myself of the simpleness of my upbringing, and to bring myself closer to an enlightened civility. But, even with that said, I could not pull myself away from the feelings of relish I knew I would surely encounter by simply... escaping into the forests of my fathers.
And surely these old trees agreed with me! I felt the warm welcome of their canopy o'er me as I cross over the threshold of the forests edge. It felt strange in a pleasantly peculiar way, but I did not reject the feeling. After years of feeling out of place as a traveler, I only then realized how much I had yearned for this.
As I moved deeper and deeper into the undergrowth, the patch I walked became narrower and narrower and the spindly green fingers of the brush and branch reclaimed more and more of what was rightfully its own. It was at this time I recall a growing, unnamable thing begin to rise in me-- harder to sense, and implacable as the tide. A slight fog began to fill some part of me; a much older part than I could even ken.
I continued along the tapering way, faster now. Have you ever spent much time by your lonesome? Whether at home, sleeping at night, or while strolling down the avenue at odd hour? Have you ever felt the invisible eyes of another peering out from some indescribable angle or view? Have you ever felt the fear of not being alone? I surely have.
I moved at a swifter pace than I ought to have, looking back, I am quite amazed I didn't snap an ankle, or ran face-first into a tree. A partial clearing of this inexplicable dread came when I nearly fell into a pond, though. I was shaken from whatever pursued me, and broke into a quiet, embarrassed laugh. I took a long look, scanning the nearby environs, and... nothing. Somewhere a gentle bird song; a branch moved in a silent breeze.
Shaking my head, I then turned and looked into the pond. I've always marveled at how calming a body of water could be; a serene mirror in a chaotic world. I stared down as I knelt closer, looking at my own reflection. I saw myself as I was, but... something was amiss. I saw my messy brown hair, light gray polo, and the olive straps of my satchel. But, my face. My mouth and eyes were wide, wearing an expression I physically could not feel. The wild gaze of my reflection, my teeth bared at my own self. I went to put my hand upon my face to assure myself, maybe I was simply unaware of my expression... for some reason. But when I realized my hands motion failed to register in the reflection, a skin of nigh frozen sweat enveloped me at once, and I fell back from the water in a scramble, unable to bring myself to even fully gaze upon it now.
Flailing to my feet, I quickly rose and turned to being fleeing, and even in my panic I noticed the form of another across the pond; I didn't stop to look further, as I was certain it was not good, no matter what it was, and if it was simply a bewildered hiker, than I would be fine enough indeed to simply have them believe me mad.
I moved like game through these once welcoming woods, and I swear to you I could still see... what ever that was, that thing that wore me, out there, in the distance. I exited the forest, cursing it as I did, and got back into my car, and started off. As I drove back into town, I slowly felt a blessed normalcy set it. My breathing slowed, and my palpitation eased.
I looked up to readjust my rearview mirror, my heart sinking as I saw myself in the roadway behind me, that bestial expression. I instinctively tried to increase my speed, to escape, forgetting the pole ahead of me, which allowed my vehicle to wrap itself around it. The last thing I recall before waking up was the contact of the wheel upon my cheekbone.
Some time has passed since then. I see him all the time now. In the mirror as I get ready, in the windows of shops as I stroll by. He's a part of me now, and maybe always was. I recall the simple joy I felt when I entered those woods, and I wonder what part of me really enjoyed it? Was it the part of me who grew up with my friends and family, who loved learning about history and language, or... a part of me that remembers something else, another time altogether. We are so removed from our natural heritage that maybe we no longer think of such things, not on the surface, but somewhere down in us, someone does. The part of us that remembers what kind of animals we are, and maybe never stopped being; always on, always alert with fangs bared against this thing that we are now, with our homes of steel and concrete, tamed electricity, and food so available that it practically chases us. We forgot it, but it never forgot us. I entered the old forest not realizing that they were no longer my domain, nor of my father, or even his. Not for a very long time now.
I stare at myself now, like that, often. I wonder what the exact moment we separated was, and if we did it intentionally to escape ourselves, and this awful savageness. I longer sleep, knowing its just there, in every surface staring back at me. I wonder if we could ever go back on that moment.
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