Gift Of The Forest

Gift Of The Forest

By Ian Knowles

Grandma always told me not to go near the forest on the edge of the property. She was a superstitious woman; God rest her soul. Mom always said she was eccentric and to pay her no mind. Uncle Darren also told me not to go messing around by the woods. "Dangerous wild animals,” he would gravely grumble. I believed Uncle Darren so I avoided it, even with the foolhardy confidence of being surrounded by my adventurous cousins.

When Uncle passed, he left me his estate. When Uncle Darren's lawyer, Mr. Krauss, read me his will; I immediately packed my bags. Things weren't so great for me back in the city. I was out of a job and the nest egg I had saved up would have dwindled quickly. Moving was better than living in some roach motel after the big city lost its charms to this art student. I met Mr. Krauss outside of the... my... mansion. He informed me that I had more acreage than I knew what to do with and handed me the key. "Mr Hammond..." he held both my hands and the key sandwiched between two sweaty palms, "Darren had one more wish. He didn't want this written down or in any public record. He asked me to tell you to stay out of the forest. It's still full of danger. I don't know what he meant entirely, but he was very serious, indeed, that you do not go in there." Mr. Krauss wiped sweat from his upper lip and brow as his gaze fluttered around the ominous woodlands on the horizon. "Oh, and uh… before I forget! You'll still need to pay your property taxes. So by April, you'll need to send a check to the city. Or... I suppose I could handle that for you as well. Your Uncle paid for my services years in advance, so I'm at your disposal." With that, he got in his car and left, waving and showing a soft smile.

The scenery was beautiful. This place was always the backdrop from some of my most fond memories. I was actually honored to be the caretaker of such a grandiose heirloom; If only I had any family left with whom to share it with. By the time I toured the house and had reminisced in darn near every room, it was time to sleep. I was kept awake by my concerns of fixing up this giant home as well as finding a way to make money to pay the property taxes. Somehow, I nodded off and dreamt of better days.

When I awoke the next morning, I resumed my evaluation of the expansive property. It was a foggy morning. If I hadn't been so familiar with my uncle's sprawling estate, I would have never known where I was going. I followed the fence line that arced dramatically around the back of the manor. Through the heavy mist, I managed to still make out the silhouette of the imposing forest.

You know that feeling of being watched? I felt that every time I was near those woods. I dismissed this feeling, labeling myself a coward. At some point, I decided to test that theory, so I strode to the shadowy copse. There was one tree standing out in front of the others, like a general leading his men into battle. It had large, twisted roots, like tendrils pulling in the earth around it. I was unsettled by the thick reddish ichor oozing down the tree's bark. In its bosom was a pitch black rectangle with a free-flowing crimson ribbon anchored to it, dancing in the wind. I had never seen anything so... purely black. Like it consumed the light around it.

I'm not really sure how it got there - a little black book. It was just sitting in the hollow knot of that strange tree. I approached with butterflies in my stomach. My thoughts screamed, "Get out of there!" Except, I couldn't leave. I felt a magnetism between my hand and that small tome. I needed it. Before I could convince myself otherwise, my mind gave in to desire. I grasped the book, loosening it from the tree's sticky maw. I went to brush it off; however, no imperfection spoiled it's blank cover or slightly ribbed binding. The only notable feature was a small insignia embossed on the first blank page; which seemed odd. Then again, what wasn't odd about this mystery book? I flipped through its silken pages to find that they were all empty. I shrugged and carried it with me back to the house.

I didn't have anything to write on except a couple waning art notebooks I brought with me; so I found the queer black book useful. I needed to go into town that day to pick up a few things. I figured I would need a shopping list to avoid any unnecessary expenditures. My mind always wanders without clear goals and the grocery store was no exception. I wrote on the front page under the pressed seal in the small journal - nothing. I could see the ink welling out of the pen, but it wouldn't stick to the paper. I turned the page and tried again. This time, I was met with success. The first page must have been coated in some type of wax or something. I resumed making my list of onions, carrots, potatoes, beef, and broth. I ripped the page from it's thread and folded it into my pocket. At a leisurely pace, I went about town collecting my ingredients for a stew that would last a few days. After completing all my shopping, I headed back to Chateau Hammond, grumbling belly and all. After I had made dinner and gorged myself on it, I fell asleep in the living room fully reclined in my uncle's favorite chair.

*DONNNNNNG DONNNNNNG* The grandfather clock chimed thunder in my ears. I was startled awake and chuckled to myself. I would not be falling asleep next to that thing again. The day went about like the previous save for the patrol of the property's edge due to the rain and heavy fog. I decided to practice sketching today instead. I sat in front of a cozy fire with my little black book. My art style was always considered dark, or macabre, by instructors and friends; but it's what I liked. In a way, it made me feel brave drawing vile creatures and unsettling landscapes. It’s almost as if I had conquered them by drawing them to life. The subject of my piece was a thin man of seemingly average build. The proportions of his arms, legs, and fingers were... off. They were stretched just enough to make you feel a little disturbed by the discrepancies. He wore a bone-white mask that was clinging to his face without a strap, as if it was fused to his flesh. Small, beady eyes rested in his black and worn sockets. If I'm being honest, it was even beginning to creep me out.

As it did often, my mind drifted away as I thought about the property taxes. I needed a job immediately. I loved the guy, but I was starting to wish Uncle Darren had left me some money to go with his castle of a house. That being said, it came down to me. Next time I picked up groceries in town I could see if the local market was hiring. That's something my art degree was good enough for. For a moment, I forgot I was drawing at all. When I looked down, I had already started another page. This doodle was of a stereotypical cartoon bag of money. To be fair, it was weighing heavily on my mind. I knew my schooling wouldn't exactly swing open the doors to success, but I was growing increasingly depressed with my unsure future. There was nothing I could really do about it at the time. There was no sense in getting all mopey. I closed the notebook and went to bed.

I woke up in the middle of the night to a noise downstairs. I fumbled around the nightstand drawer until my fingers found my uncle's revolver. Uncle Darren taught me how to shoot and told me to always sleep with my gun close by. I had never taken that to heart until then. I was shaking as I exited my room and headed down the infinitely dark hallway. There was more noise downstairs but it sounded distant - like it was outside. I slowly descended the stairs leading to the foyer as the doorknob started rattling. I stopped dead in my tracks and gasped audibly. Whoever they were looked as if they could see me through the glass brick around the door frame. There's no way, right? " Y-Y-YOU B-BETTER GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE! I CALLED THE COPS! A-A-AND I HAVE A GUN!" I stammered without an ounce of conviction. The burglar slowly faded away from the front door. I ran to the window and peeked through the tattered blinds. A saw a faint outline of a man leaving into the mist.

I didn't sleep after that. I called the cops and filed a report, but of course, there was nothing they could do. They said that was the first reported crime in over a year, just my luck. Maybe they thought the kid in the big house had to be loaded. Well, the joke was on them. I had holed up in the house for a couple days. The pistol was never out of reach. I knew I needed some fresh air by the time a week passed. I pocketed my six-shooter and walked the fence.

When I got to the woods, I noticed something in the hole of the tree where the notebook had been. I pulled out the gun just in case this was some weird elaborate trap. As I stepped closer, I noticed the hole was stuffed and overflowing with rotten food. The smell hit me like I was buried in hot garbage that was baking in the July sun. Vegetables as well as a large cut of meat played host to maggots and mold. The stench clung to the air thicker than any fog. I saw something else behind the food. It was a brown burlap sack stained with the rancid liquid of the fetid harvest. At least, I hoped that was what those stains were and not some severed head.

I picked up a stick and cleared the refuse to expose a bulging bag. Using a forked branch on the stick I yanked the sack out of the tree. It dropped to the floor, spilling money onto the grass - a lot of money. It was more money than I had ever seen in my life! I swiftly grabbed it, ignoring the acrid scent of spoiled foodstuffs that had tainted some of the cash and its bag. I rushed up to the house and counted it so fast I didn't even shut the door on my way in. There was at least $20,000 dollars there! It was more than enough to keep up on the taxes. This could be the break I was looking for - a foothold to start my new life. But where did this come from?

I noticed something about the money; the bag looks uncannily like the one I drew in the little black book. That's when it hit me. The rotten veggies and meat... the items in the hollowed tree matched my shopping list. It’s as if I bought double the food and stuffed the other half in that hole. The book brings what I draw or write into reality? I could be rich! I would never go hungry again! My excitement was suddenly lost as I saw my mouth being covered by long, pale fingers. I turned my head to see two beady, sunken eyes staring at me through an ivory mask.