The Ancients Know Secrets

It started as a mere game of hide and seek in the Whispering Woods of our childhood. Not paying attention to the noises, as we were by then fully accustomed to the woods, we kept on playing and counting, giggling and hiding.

Atlanta was my cousin and we were always concocting some spells together. We knew some that even worked, especially when combined with dried herbs and infusions. We felt it in our souls, deeply, that we harbored secrets of the past, but we took it as a game. Adults would not comprehend, we were sure.

Sometimes, grandma Lalli would tell us stories of strong women who fought their way to become village chiefs, but that was long long time ago, before even our grandma's childhood days. But she also had stories deep in her soul and storytelling seemed to be our teacher of wicked things, as far as we could decipher to further search on our own.

Our game of hide-and-seek that day was short and we quickly got bored. We liked being bored too. That's when we laid on our crimson blanket, feeling all sore and curious, sometimes we talked, other times we fell asleep, caressed by magic.

We felt some attraction but didn't know what that meant. Attraction to the elements was strong that day. It was noon and hot, even in the shade. We sought the noises we knew because they were usually soothing bird chirps and wind chimes.

This time it was different. The woods were truly whispering.

We dared not to be afraid. The prophecy was clear, we had heard it many times through storytelling and signs all over. The ancestors would rise and the forest would explode with memories and beliefs.

I was afraid, even if I didn't let it show. I don't know about Atlanta, she wasn't saying a word. She just stared at the big oak tree and smiled a wicked smile.

"Come!" we heard a hushed, groggy voice. It seemed screechy, like the beginning of a vinyl disk, unsure of itself, trying to catch a tune.

"Atlanta! What is it? Who spoke?" I asked fearfully.

She smiled again, but this time a fateful cold smile.

"They are here," she said. "We need to let go of expectations."

"What do you mean? Who is here? Can you see them?"

My cousin turned suddenly serious and took a deep breath. She leaned towards me and kissed my lips. I was taken aback and felt 10 years older, suddenly transformed into a lady of honor, hovering from the past.

"Atlanta, what is happening?"

"Hush, dear, listen to the forest and you will be ok. Just become yourself and don't mind the voices."

I suddenly noticed the trees giggling and talking to each other. Voices of the past. Doubts and illusions. I was indeed hearing all those voices.

"Ladies behave and don't speak unless asked." I thought I heard a voice behind me. The maple wood waved and smiled, with soft eyes and a clean demeanor. I could recognize a face on its bark, a woman of old times, a black and white photo, a great-great-grandmother, with deep wrinkles and a sad voice.

"I am Maud Galt, Lalli's great-grandmother. I am here to guide you and make you a decent lady, who doesn't do such irresponsible things in the forest. Look at you, my dear, how dirty with mud you are, leaves in your hair, and your cheeks so rosy one would think you got asked to get married."

I was deeply confused. Maud Galt was never talked about in our family, though we knew she had been in a great quarrel over a dowery and an old land. Atlanta had told me not to listen to the voices. But was I really so dirty and ugly-looking because of it? I started to doubt myself and my actions and I heard Maud's laugh.

"Little girl, Maud knows better. You are meek and you are a woman. Women have a difficult fate and should never talk back to their elders. Be a good girl, don't ever speak your mind about anything!"

What was she talking about? Why would I have a difficult fate? I was trembling with fear and wanted to go home to Grandma Lalli. But my feet were stuck into the earth and I could feel a new smell this time.

"Maud, Maud, how I missed you my love!" another tree was awake and stylish, with a hat on a branch and chuckling, its beard (!?) moving from side to side as it spoke.

"You know, little girl, Maud is right. She knows what's best for women, not to turn astray into whores and lose track of their manners like you know who."

"Who?" I asked puzzled, even though Atlanta had told me not to pay attention to the voices. But now I was curious. Who was this new ancestor?

"Uhmmm," I babbled nervously. "Who are you?" almost shouting, because I could barely hear my own thoughts.

"Little girl, little girl tsk tsk, you don't pay attention to your elders. I am Maud's first lover and husband of course."

"Oh, John Dickie," Luna said conspiratively. "You were never my lover, don't be so full of yourself. Now I can finally tell you I loved Agnes and nobody else." The maple tree was blooming suddenly and waved in the forest breeze, as if dreamy with recollections.

"You mean Agnes the whore who told on you and had you punished as a witch? You loved her? You lunatic Maud! You were supposed to be the good one, always tame and ready for me when I asked for you. That's why I married you a fresh flower."

Atlanta suddenly came to her senses in a frantic way. She shook me strongly and kissed me once again on the lips. Burning. My why was stuck in my throat. I wanted to meet Agnes. I didn't allow Atlanta to wake me up from this forest dimension.

"Miss Agnes? Are you also here?" I asked with a meek voice, still terrified from the truths and revelations.

A hush and a thunder and I heard a wild roar, a laugh, and an elder bush moving with a sway.

"Maud, my love! Is it you?"

"Agnes? You also arrived at this funky party of sorts?" Maud asked frightfully, with fear in her branches. The maple tree was shivering and its leaves were uncontrollable, I couldn't understand these movements.

"It's love," I heard Agnes saying. "She still loves me".

"But you are both women," I said in a fit, not accepting the discussion anymore. "No, you are crazy, you are just trees and I am going back home. Now!"

"Oh little girl, love is blind and ancestors have had their adventures, you know. You see all the black and white photographs and you think us immobile, stuck figures in someone else's story. We wrote our story!"

"But earlier you said that women have a difficult fate," by now I was sobbing uncontrollably and thought I had fever and chills.

"I had a difficult fate and I want to protect you from it. That's why you should listen to your elders and be a good girl. Also, never kiss a girl, or you will be accused of being a witch! I still love Agnes, even if she testified against me at the Kirk Session. I just want to ask her why she did it, wasn't she happy with our friendship? Huh, Agnes, pray answer!"

Agnes the old elder bush, with disheveled flowers, as if anxious and remorseful, deep wrinkles formed all over its bark. I was in awe, petrified in my place, with my feet still stuck heavy with anticipation.

Agnes seemed to weep, trying to recollect herself (itself?). "I'was fraid to play with that peis of clay formed lyk the secreit member of ane man, fraid God wuld punish me, a servant".

And the elder tree continued to weep and sway, its flowers slowly scattering around on the ground, like popcorn.

"I did luv you, I did, believe me, but I'was alwuys 'fraid for my so'ul bein' crushed in the fires of hell," Agnes said once more.

Maud remained quiet and fretful, the previously bloomed flowers still unscathed. "I believe you", she said. Blooms shining crimson and full, healthy, and miraculously fragrant.

I felt tears in my eyes and wanted to hug Atlanta. This was a most unexpected storytelling we witnessed. Could we possibly tell anyone else about it? Would anyone else believe us matter of factly?

A sudden thunder crashed conspicuously and rain started to fall heavily through all branches. Crimson flowers glistened even stronger and there was a feeling of peace in the air.

I did listen to the voices and it was one of the most beautiful love stories I have ever heard.

"Atlanta, where are you?" I called for my cousin looking around me. I moved my legs one by one and found Atlanta sleeping a deep sleep on our red picnic blanket. "Wake up! We will get soaking wet! Let's hide under the maple tree!"

"What happened? Why is it raining? Why is the maple tree in bloom?" my cousin asked as if she hadn't witnessed a thing.

But did she witness the conversation between the trees like I did? Did she even know ancestors were hidden in our magical forest? She seemed entirely oblivious and just worried we would catch a cold because of the rain. Oh, dear innocent soul!

I kissed her on the cheek and told her it was from great-great-grandma Maud, just sending us some love across centuries. She smiled and accepted my explanation as if it was something common. Perhaps she did know something as well about Maud the wild one.