The Forest
Johnny was still laughing. Then he was left speechless, because he opened his eyes.
Darkness. Blackness. A void.
No, not a void. Or maybe it was?
He covered his face with his hands. Closed his eyelids. Opened them and removed his hands.
The darkness and all-encompassing blackness thickened the landscape and filled the space, every free particle of the world. The horizon moved closer to the boy and stretched to the tip of his nose. The universe, covered in a black shroud, did not allow him to see even a millimeter further. The blackness greedily devoured the tiniest sparks of light. It replaced the everything with a powerless entity in a battle with the giantess, daughter of the colossi - he, called the Unknown, and she, called the Unseen.
Johnny felt the ground beneath his feet and walked a bit. It crunched beneath him. He moved blindly and bumped into an obstacle.
A tree, old, decayed, and crumbling.
His eyes adjusted to see better in the dark. He pushed away from a branch and moved on. He bumped into a trunk. After a moment, in the raven-like gloom, he recognized the outlines of old, disease-ridden trees growing around him.
Where had Kraków gone, the bustling city? Where were the mime and the rest of the circus troupe? The musicians, the comedians? The tiger's cage, the tamer, and the magician? How, in just a brief moment after closing his eyes, had he ended up in a dark and terrifying forest? How had the sun vanished from the horizon in the blink of an eye, and the surroundings turned into endless night? Where was the square, the merchants, the tents and the coachmen? And the beautiful afternoon, spring, the light wind on his face, replaced now by the stillness of a dead forest?
Devastated by the discovery and the questions flooding his mind - questions without answers - he faltered, bent down, crouched in despair, and suddenly remembered.
Where were Albert and Nina? Had they ended up in this terrible place too?
- I have to find them. They must be really scared.
The memory of his friends, lost in the darkness of the black forest, gave him strength and courage. He set off to search for them. He didn't know which direction to take, what awaited him beyond the next tree, or how they would escape the forest, which might stretch for kilometers. Despite the many questions and the fear stirred by the surrounding darkness - which would frighten any other boy or girl - he moved into the gaping maw of the dark and called out to his lost friends.
He didn't shout loudly. He was afraid of accidentally waking creatures living in the forest. Not necessarily friendly ones. He wasn't sure what he'd encounter beyond the next tree, trunk, or branch. He understood that he was probably not the only being lost in the dark.
He moved forward. From tree to tree, from trunk to trunk. Stumbled, even fell over roots awkwardly growing out of the ground. Heart pounding in the chest, blood rushing to the head. Fear became an inseparable companion on this journey on foot. No stopping - each step a fight, and victory in that uneven battle, where imagination worked at full capacity. It surprised and forced a slower pace, a closer look at the fears painted by the night.
Panic loomed. Hands trembled, and the body would've gladly refused to obey had terror gained the upper hand. Though the forest felt warm and stifling, fingers froze, and the lower jaw chattered against the upper as if in the grip of winter frost.
No surrender to mirages or imagined, known, and unknown monsters. Constant reminders that imagination shaped what lay beyond sight. A wise boy, by setting out to rescue younger friends, gained strength to face lurking challenges. Calls to them carried just far enough to be heard from a nearby distance.
Step after step. Movement - always forward. No certainty of the right direction, no way to tell. Determining left and right, front and back, proved useless. The abyss had drawn its own forest path. Even standing in the very center, like a trained dancer, spinning, swaying, gliding, and rocking in every direction, naming the directions differently with each turn - still no help. And if, by some chance, a compass came to mind, to determine east and the other seven directions, the attempt would again be futile - for what kind of east was it, over which no sun rose to start a new day? Without dawn, both compass and map would fail and lead nowhere. In that forest, all trunks looked the same. Bark beetles had deeply scarred them; rot and sickness spread among the trees. As if the darkness had drained their will to live. As if the night would never end, and the world had forgotten it moves in circles.
A pause. Eyes lifted to the treetops. No leaves - only tangled, aimless, dry branches. And something else. Far away, in the navy-blue sky, stars shimmered. Shimmered, if shimmering could be done in black, with a light devoid of shine. Black stars in a navy-blue sky, and not a trace of a spark. No moon at all. This brought great surprise, for a full moon had been expected within days.
How could it be? Had the moon also turned its back on this forbidden corner, and the stars revealed a face never seen before? A magical forest. Magical in an unpleasant sense. Terrifying, dreadful, and evil.
That's what poor John thought. Courage failed, and fear grew.
Still walking. Walking. Calling out silently and hopelessly. No one met on the way. Neither beast nor human. Not even an evil sorcerer who might've cast the worst of spells here.
After a short pause to catch breath and let go of some of the terror, he went on. Slower with time. The surroundings remained unchanged.
Something stirred. Not in the forest, not around, but within. A pressure from inside suggested that something was following. Nothing seen, nothing known - only felt. A presence tracing each step. The thought arose - whether meeting it was truly desired. No certainty that it would be good, friendly, or helpful in the search. A possibility crossed the mind: could it be Albert or Nina? But would either of them follow in complete silence, without a single call or signal? Wouldn't they do exactly what he had been doing - calling, seeking - to join forces against the all-consuming darkness? To find the last of the missing together?
No - far more likely a forest animal. One that had caught the human scent, navigated the dark with ease, and moved without sound. Friends would've made themselves known. Wouldn't have stalked so precisely, so silently.
What little courage remained vanished with the calling of friends' names. Calls grew shorter, spaced farther apart, uttered so quietly they barely reached the ears that made them. Doubts multiplied. With every branch passed, hope waned. And yet - pace quickened. Steps more focused, more rhythmic. A steady, brisk march. Anything to stop whatever tracked from rising at the back.
The Campfire
He set off on a journey into the unknown. Truly unknown - visibility barely extended beyond a meter or so. A thought came: maybe it was better to wait out the night and rest until morning. But hope for morning had long since faded.
Besides, something moved behind him. Not near, but somewhere in the distance. Whatever it was, some distance had been gained.
Stopping for long was out of the question. Rightly or wrongly, an encounter with the undefined pursuer inspired dread.
The pace stayed steady. Fatigue began to creep in. Feet and knees took the brunt - roots, falls, unseen traps of the forest floor. A decent marching speed came at the cost of scrapes and bruises.
Pain settled in the legs. Constant, unignorable. Nothing dramatic - Johnny didn't dwell on it - but the accumulation threatened to slow him. No solution presented itself to avoid tripping, but the urgency to find Albert and Nina, and to escape the forest, tipped the balance. Onward, as fast as the forest allowed.
Despite everything, a second wind came. The fear of being followed faded into the background. Calls rang out more confidently.
- Albert, Nina! Nina, Albert!
The dark no longer felt like a trap. Nothing had leapt out, nothing blocked the way.
Terror subsided. That dreadful internal pounding eased, heartbeat returned to rhythm. Fingers, once numb from tension, regained warmth.
Then - something. A sensation. Like a hunter, he lifted his nose. Smoke.
Where there's smoke, there's fire.
Following the scent, he spotted a faint light ahead. A few steps more - voices. Human.
Without hesitation, he pressed forward toward the glow flickering across bark.
The fire grew, the voices clearer - measured, infrequent speech. The glow rekindled hope: hope of escape from the dark, hope of meeting someone, of finding Albert and Nina. Eyes scanned the circle of light.
No trick of the mind. No illusion or trap. A real fire - like all those twisted trees passed along the way. Real, warm, even joyful, though modest - befitting what little the forest gave.
Beyond the final sickly tree blocking the path, he stepped directly into a conversation around the flames. Four elderly people moved about, tending the fire. Over it, a pot hung from a tripod, liquid bubbling inside.
- Well, I'll be! - said an old man who had his back turned and hadn't expected a boy to suddenly appear behind him. - Sneaking around like that in the night?
- Sorry, didn't mean to scare anyone. - Johnny replied politely.
