Part two

Sunday wasn’t much different. Derek had awoken at around 10am. He crawled out into radiant sunlight. A smile formed swiftly on his face, meanwhile his eyes stayed shut, in an effort to adjust. Opening his eyes he was horrified to find that everything was exactly as he’d left it. Not a being in sight. Not a thing out of place. Not even the wind had disturbed him. He felt happy. He felt fulfilled. He really was in heaven. He didn’t want to go back to his life back home. Feeling full of energy he decided to go for a walk. Just to look at the different trees, maybe see if he could see any wildlife. He might even take some pictures with that silly expensive phone of his. Pleased with this decision he nipped back into his tent and rolled four more king-size joints. He placed two in a large baggie, rolling it on itself, and placing it in his purpose bought bum-bag. Stepping back out into the sunlight he surveyed his surroundings and lit his first joint of the day. Across the clearing behind his tent he saw what he thought must the woods mentioned on the website. And off he went. He glanced around as he walked. He didn’t have a care. I haven’t seen anyone, he thought. He hadn’t seen a soul since he’d left his car. As he came closer to the woods he saw two grey squirrels chasing each other, running along branches, jumping as needed. He stood for at least five minutes, amused like a small child. Losing sight of them and the realisation he’d finished his first joint of the day, he stepped into the woods. Suddenly all his actions became very pronounced. He listened as small twigs cracked beneath his feet. He continued further in, noticing the light growing dimmer as he went. He spent hours wandering around, unsure of his direction. He was now down to just one joint, but he didn’t fancy it. He’d overdone it bit and he needed to let it fade. His thoughts were starting to get a bit out of hand. Which direction did I come in from? There won’t be anyone around to hear me shout if I’m lost. I haven’t seen anybody. Am I lost? I really don’t know which way to get back, and I’m getting a bit peckish, he thought.

Peace and quiet. Just peace and quiet. This is what I wanted. And now I just want someone else to tell me it’s OK. Someone to point me in the right direction. Would anyone even- who’s that? He heard very faint laughter. He stood still trying to determine which direction it came from. He decided it was behind him to his right. He turned clockwise and headed for the noise. Getting closer he could hear at least two, if not three children, laughing as they played. Possible seven or eight years old. He continued on, the ground beneath his feet announcing his every step. “Shh.” The laughter had stopped suddenly, and as it did, so did Derek. He couldn’t see anyone. He couldn’t see any evidence anyone had been in front of where he stood. He crept forward slow and steady, deathly afraid of disturbing the woodland floor. He stepped up to a wide tree and peered round it from the right. Nothing. This is fucking weird, he thought to himself. I definitely heard kids. “Hello?” a child said, from behind him. Derek spun around, noting he almost felt sick he’d done so, so quickly. “Is there anybody there?” a different child said. There was certainly two voices, but there was definitely no bodies to be seen. Feeling uneasy Derek just stood, racking his brains. Should I say hello? I should say hello back. No, I shouldn’t. I should, it’s probably just the wind carrying the voices from nearby. Could they be climbing in the trees above me? At that thought he looked up, scanning first from left to right, then he turned on the spot, keeping the same angle. They’re not in the trees. It is so dark though. I wonder what time it is. He reached into his right pocket. His phone was missing. Oh shit. Ohh shit. I can’t have dropped it. No. That’s too fucking dumb. That’s not even stoner dumb, that’s just outright fucking stupid. As he ruminated his body started to panic. He found it harder to draw breath and his heart was starting to pound. OK calm down. It’s just the weed, he told himself. “Hello?” he heard again, this time as if the child was stood directly behind him on the opposite side of the tree. He clamped his eyes shut tight. I have to respond. I’m lost, there’s no else here. There’s no one here. He swallowed hard, wet his lips and said, “H..Hello?” “Aaagh,” the two disembodied voices screamed, trailing away from where he was stood. Forget it. I’ll just try walk back the way I’m facing. Surely I’ll walk out of this wood somewhere, even if it takes a while to find my tent, he decided. He set off. With every step he started to feel a bit more confident. A little relief. Sam and Frodo, or Merry and Pippin would probably have a bit of pipe-weed before continuing on their journey, he thought. He unzipped his bum-bag once more, unrolling the baggie and taking from it the last joint. He placed the empty baggie back in and took out his lighter. He used the flint with his thumb, covering the tip of the joint in the cup of his hands. Now he drew the yellow flame towards the tip, inhaling, pulling the flame towards to tip. He blew out the first two drags. The smoke drifted away behind him. From behind him he heard a gruff, bellowing voice, intertwined with the childish voices he’d heard earlier shout “He’s over there.” He could hear the wood floor disturbed by running feet, and he decided to do the same. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, darting between the trees, dodging left and right. He didn’t dare look behind him. “We’ll get you, mister,” rang out behind him. It didn’t sound too far behind, either. Every direction he turned his head he just saw the low light. Not quite fully dark but there was no sunlight to be seen. Starting to panic again he leapt upwards at the first tree he thought he could climb. He scrambled higher and higher, as his mind and body climbed higher and higher. Soon he was poking his head out of the top of the tree. It was night time. He had no idea so much time had passed. He couldn’t see the stars for the clouds. The warm, heavy droplets crashed against his face. He closed his eyes and sank down towards his feet. He got as comfortable as he could with his back against the trunk of the tree. He let his legs dangle. “Oi, you,” he heard, almost screeching from the bottom of the tree. “We know you’re up this tree. We won’t wait. You will.” Say nothing. Don’t let them know you’re here. He laid himself on his front on the branch to have a look downward. All he saw was darkness. He waited, trying to calm his breathing. In a split second he saw twelve sets of red eyes open, in unison, and they looked straight into his soul. He froze. This is a joke. This can’t be real. I’m high as balls. Definitely. I’ll have to try sleep it off, he thought as he felt the slightly crumpled joint caught in a death grip between his index and middle finger of his right hand. Fuck it. What have I to lose? He sat back upright against the trunk, taking his lighter from his bum-bag and sparked up. This might be the last joint I ever smoke. This could be my last night on earth. Those little scrotes might kill me for all I know. Below, a grumbling noise started, carrying upwards, past the various branches, right to Derek. Fuck it. “Fuck you, you little shits,” he shouted down to them. He continued to smoke, enjoying every toke more than the last. My mother knows I love her, he thought. No one at work will give two shits. Then again, neither would I. This could be it. This really could be the end of me. I might find out what comes- the tree started to shake, like a private earthquake. It began to sway. Derek gripped the branch he was sat on with his legs, locking his ankles beneath it. “Fall, fall, fall,” they were chanting beneath him, over and over. It grew louder. It almost sounded as if they were climbing the tree. Derek tried to wrap his arms behind himself, around the trunk.
I’m OK. It’ll be OK. Everything is alright, just like the Motion City Soundtrack song. He took in a breath and closed his eyes. Goodbye. He unhooked his legs, he drew his arms back, relaxed, at his sides. He went with the swaying of the tree. Gently he was rocked. The chanting continued below. Eventually he came unstuck, tumbling to his left. He felt shooting pain in his back as he crashed into the first branch. He stomach did summersaults and it felt like his body did the reverse of every one of them. He kept his eyes clamped shut all the way down, plummeting towards the pool of chants at the bottom. Greeting every branch on his way down before finally meeting the floor with a final thud. The oxygen stolen from his lungs, he laid face down, winded. He opened his eyes to find he was surrounded by absolute darkness. He couldn’t even see the trunk of the tree. Any of the trees. And then, in unison, once more, the red eyes opened. He could tell by the shape of their eyes the non-existent faces were grinning a cruel, sadistic grin.

On Wednesday, 27th of May, 2015 a group of people from the same campsite as Derek found his battered, twisted body at the base of a mighty tree. His face looked as if he’d died in tremendous pain. Or he had experienced pure terror. No one knew exactly what had happened to him. The party all stood around, exchanging comments and internalising sadness at the poor man’s fate. Eventually two of the party broke off and headed back out in an attempt to alert the authorities.