A fae approached me recently. The one from the fairytales, beautiful and breathtaking. They showed me the secrets and wonders of the forests. How the trees whisper lovely words and the animals approach those who are kind. The place was filled with stunningly different flora and fauna. The fruits were fresh and ripe, brimming with nutrients and sweetness. Every bite, liquid would drip down onto my face and hands. It was refreshing from the plain and smokey city I lived in. It was addicting to be in a place where it was peaceful and calm. I promised that whatever happened, I would not leave this safe haven and keep tending to the forest.
In the first month, I noticed some decay had started to eat at the small plants at the border of the forest. I tried to cut it off but the fae refused, one cannot harm anything within these perimeters, they told me. Reluctantly I agreed, it was the forest of the fae after all, I was merely someone who accepted their offer to take care of the place and in turn be taken care of. Some animals ran away because of this, but I was assured that it was the right course of action to take. Months had passed, and I found myself visiting the forest more and more. Spending a heap of money on buying the proper equipment to make the place better: quality fertilizer, new watering cans, and food to feed the critters. I skipped out on meals and walked home so that I could save up enough materials to tend to the forest. It was hard to sustain, but every time I heard the fae talk about their day, it was as if all the material losses could never outweigh the softness and freedom I felt inside the forest. It was worth everything so I stayed.
I stayed until the rot started to spread closer and closer to the middle of the forest. I stayed even when I would rarely see the fae anymore. Bare glimpses at the corner of my eyes. I still took care of the forest, even if there would be problems I couldn‘t fix alone. Plenty of people knew what I was doing, where I was going, and how much time I was spending tending for the plants. I would never admit that it was already rotting though, why would I admit that I failed to keep the plants alive? A failure to keep the peaceful forest from being eaten by the pests. That I had given so much and still fell short. So to them, the forest was perfect and I was doing an amazing job.
After another day had passed, I went back to the forest. It has been my routine for months now, written on calendars and notes apps. Though it’s a bit different these past few weeks. More trees started dying. The fruits were rotten and there were no longer any animals around. The fae was nowhere to be found. I don’t remember when the last time I saw them was. I tried to pretend that everything was still the same, which is a mistake on my part.
Maybe, I was delusional. I still tended to the trees even though they were nothing but bark. Watering what was already dead. I picked out the rotting fruit on the ground, thinking that maybe it would still taste the same. I paid no mind to the insects already feasting on the mush. I cupped it with my hands and bit into it. I chewed even if it didn’t feel like fruit. After a few bites, I started to taste it. The dirt, the webs, and the worms. I spat out what was left of the fruit inside my mouth. Worms and insects were stuck between the poor excuse of a fruit and my saliva. I kept the bile in as I watched more bugs pick at the spat out food on the ground. Yet, I kept going.
I stayed in the forest, as it was dying. A few more weeks and it would all grow again, I often told myself. This was just a rough patch. The fae would return again, and tell me about their day. I would stop feeling the wriggling worms and go back to the sweet taste of fruit. It would all return because that‘s what fairytales do right? After all, seeing this fae meant that magic is real, I shouldn’t waste the opportunity that was given to me.
This mindset didn’t last long as I was rushed to the hospital a week later. The doctor told me that the amount of insects and bacteria I had been consuming was becoming too much for my body to handle. The air I had been breathing in the forest had created lung damage. The constant wet smell of rot finally got to me after weeks. Now, it was safer for me to be in a smoky city than in that forest.
I was sent home after a day. I stayed away from the woods the first time and decided I’ll never return again. However, It wasn’t easy. There’s still a constant call whenever I’d breathe in the city air. I’d have to remind myself that it was worse when I was there. Every time I eat meals I still feel the phantom movement as I try to gulp down food without thinking of the insects and maggots. I still dream of the forest being alive and thriving. That I did something else and it survived and was able to live beautifully again. I dream of feeling the bliss I once felt when I first broke through the forest clearing. I dream of the animals that I had befriended and I still dream of the fae, who against all odds, I still do not blame. They had to do what was dictated to them and I cannot change what was ordered to them. I miss the forest, but I know I can never return because nothing will be there waiting for me.
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