The Weeping Woods

“Come to me…” an ethereal giggly voice whispered in the night, like a tinkling bell. A candle flickered to life in the highest window of the tallest house in the village. The Mayor sat bolt upright in bed, ignoring his sleeping wife beside him. “Come to me, and all your dreams will come true…”

A dreamy expression appeared on the Mayor’s face. Blinded by his ambition, he followed the voice down the stairs, out the door, and through the village square. He stopped at the edge of a forest bordering the village, looking around confusedly.

A bell-like laugh rang out. “You’re almost there! Come to me…”

The Mayor followed the voice into the forest. A cold breeze rippled through the forest, scattering leaves and making branches rustle. The Mayor pulled his thin nightshirt tighter around himself in a futile attempt to keep out the cold and he ventured on. As he approached the center of the forest, the voices stopped suddenly.

“W-where are you? I did as you asked!” The Mayor cried, desperately searching for the voice. The tree branches above swayed in the breeze, as if wagging long scolding fingers at him. A sudden gust of wind blew from behind, knocking him to the forest floor below. He fell at the roots of a small holly tree. Its spiky leaves rippled playfully, as if leading him onward.

“All your wildest dreams will soon be yours,” the voice returned. The voices multiplied, First one, then two, then three, then five.

“We’ll give you riches...” An old man’s voice joined the first.

“We’ll give you wisdom…” An old woman’s voice added.

“We’ll give you power…” Another voice, this one a young man’s, said.

“We’ll give you beauty…” A young woman’s voice this time.

“We’ll give you youth…” The first voice, that of a small child, rejoined the fray.

The Mayor covered his ears to block out the overlapping voices. “What more must I do?”

“Follow me,” the old man’s voice echoed to the left.

As the Mayor followed, the old woman’s voice chimed in from the right. “No, this way.”

The young man’s taunting laughter rang out from the opposite direction. “What’s the matter? Don’t you want this?”

“You’re so close… keep following your dream!” The young woman’s voice piped up next, causing The Mayor to turn back the way he came.

The Mayor wandered in aimless circles, guided by the conflicting voices until he collapsed in an exhausted heap. He lay still and silent until the child’s voice and laughter rang out once more.

“Don’t give up now! Just one more step…”

The Mayor took that step and fell to his death. The next afternoon, the village people banded together to search for their missing leader. The women and children gathered, waiting and worrying at the edge of the forest. Meanwhile, the men tramped through the forest, crushing saplings and flowers alike beneath their careless feet. The Deputy Sheriff found The Mayor’s body at the bottom of a ravine.

The village men retrieved their fallen leader, loading the body onto a makeshift stretcher. As they paraded the corpse through the forest, the tree branches swayed, as if bidding The Mayor goodbye and good riddance.

Suddenly anguished cries shattered the eerie silence. At the edge of the forest, The Mayor’s newly widowed wife threw herself onto the covered motionless form, sobbing uncontrollably. The other women looked on in horror; the men simply shook their heads. “Another victim of The Weeping Woods,” mumbled The Deputy Sheriff.

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The Weeping Woods… that’s the name the humans gave our home on account of the many mysterious deaths that occur there. Every casualty lured out of bed in the middle of the night, only to be found dead the next day. Most deaths were ruled suicides. Some were ruled as accidents, but the humans got it wrong. Half wrong, at least. There was nothing accidental about these deaths, but they were self-inflicted. The humans brought death upon themselves with their greed and cruelty.

We Tree Spirits sat by for as long as we could. We didn’t want to fight, but the humans left us no choice. When they dragged us into their avarice, we had to act!

It wasn’t always this way. The Tree Spirits and humans lived in harmony for many centuries. They gave us their respect, and we gave them our resources in return. My eldest brother, Oak, gave them wood for their homes and furnishings. My sister, Willow, gave them bark to use for medicine. My brother, Aspen, gave them firewood and chips to make paper. My sister, Apple, gave them delicious fruit for sustenance. Me?

I’m Holly, the youngest of the Tree Spirits. My berries were poisonous to humans and animals alike, and my branches were too thin for firewood or furniture. I had so little to give, compared to my older siblings, but there was one thing I could do that they could not. I thrived in the harshest winters. When all my siblings were barren, my leaves were still bright green and my berries red and plump. Only then did the humans notice me.

Oh, how they smiled to see my red and green colors against the gray winter landscape! They took my branches to make beautiful wreaths for their homes. They took my sprigs to garnish their treats, sweet spicy dishes called Christmas pudding.

My favorite human was a friendly woodcutter with eyes as green as my leaves. Every Christmas, he brought his family with him to our forest to collect some of my sprigs for their celebration. Many humans were rough with me, but his touch was gentle. He took only what he needed, taking care not to leave me uneven on one side. The snips didn’t hurt; in fact, they tickled!

I giggled, swaying my leaves to tickle him back. The Woodcutter laughed, patting my topmost branch. “Thank you, Holly.”

A woman and two small children - a girl and a boy - joined The Woodcutter. “Oh, what beautiful holly!” the woman exclaimed, smiling at my sprigs.

“It’ll look so pretty on our wreath!” said the girl.

“Or with our Christmas pudding!” added the boy. He looked at his parents with hopeful eyes. “Mother, Father, can we have our Christmas pudding when we get home?”

The Woodcutter and his wife laughed, exchanging a look. “Of course we can!” The Woodcutter replied, “Don’t forget to thank Holly before we go. Without her leaves, we wouldn’t have our traditional Christmas pudding.”

“Thank you, Holly!” the children said, waving their little hands as they followed their parents. I rustled my leaves, waving in return as I watched them go.

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I was happy to give of myself to make the humans happy. We were all happy to sacrifice ourselves for their happiness… until they betrayed us. First they demanded more and more of us until our best offerings were never enough to satisfy them. That I could forgive! Then they used our resources to hurt each other. They used me to hurt my friends!

They had to pay, and I had to be the one to make them! Now I use my voice to lure the worst of humanity to their deaths, starting with the ones that hurt my friends.