GrUeberfest 2005: A Certain Slant of Light (574 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 2 on 16 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by stardamage (View user info) at 2005-10-31 02:25:05 EST
Rowan Larsen was trapped.
His mother had locked his window half an hour ago, the door much earlier, and he couldn't escape.
"Mom, I feel carsick," he said, half sullenly, half wanting to make amends for his temper tantrum before leaving the house.
His mother turned to look at him. "I'm not unlocking your window, kid."
"But I'm serious this time." He made himself think of cancer patients, tubes and needles and machines that go beep beep beep. Burn victims. Car wrecks. He unfocused his eyes and hoped she noticed.
Jade Larsen scrutinized her son between glances at the road.
"Promise you won't mess with it this time," she said warily.
"Mommm. I'm gonna puke if I can't roll down my window."
Click.
The window crawled down and Rowan stuck his head out of it, his black hair whipping around his face. "I'm not carsick!" he roared into the wind. "Ha ha, got you mom."
His mother shook her head and smiled, and though he couldn't see it, Rowan heard it in her voice and was relieved. "Get that head back in the car, kiddo. Next thing you know I accidentally get too close to the side of the road..."- she swerved the car slowly- "and a sign comes along and takes that scalp right off. You'd have to grow your hair all out again."
Rowan jerked his head back into the car and grinned. "You wouldn't."
"Wouldn't I!" said his mother, closing the eye closest to him. "Tell me if there's anything in the street, Row, I'm going to take a nap."
"Ha ha, mom."
They were both grinning now, all the tension of the past hour forgotten.
"Honestly, Rowan, I know you wanted to stay at home and go to the movies with your friends, but your grandmother really wants to see you. And you haven't seen the new house yet. She's really excited." His mom said this half apologetically, half sternly.
"I know, mom." And he did know, he wasn't kidding. Twelve was a bit old to be throwing fits, anyway. He was growing up, he thought masterfully. Time to be a bit more mature about these things. Sacrifices had to be made. Take it like a man.
"We should get back Sunday in time for you to go to Jason's barbeque, anyway," she said tentatively, fully aware that she had revoked this privilege just two hours before in the height of their argument.
"Okay, mom," Rowan said, just happy that they weren't fighting anymore.
Jade looked over at her son and smiled.
* * *
Half an hour later the old Volvo was bumping its way up a winding dirt road.
"She lives all the way up here now?" asked Rowan over the noise of the car as it trundled steadily up the hill.
"Yep. It's really very pretty out here, huh, Row? Nicer than being in town, don't you think?"
"Yeah," he agreed, putting his head against the windowframe and watching the scenery. "It must get lonely sometimes though," he said mostly to himself.
"What was that, kid?"
"Nothing, mom. How much longer?"
"Five minutes or so. Just a minute after we get out of these trees we'll see the house."
Jade fell silent and focused on the road and in a few minutes they saw the farmhouse at the top of a modest hill. The line of thousands of trees that was the beginning of the Windermere Lake Forest came within a hundred feet of the back door, though the side yards were wide, and the front yard with its gardens stretched invitingly towards the Volvo. Jade pulled up next to the house and stopped the car, and immediately a blur of golden fur streaked out of the house and bolted straight for it.
"Mickey!"
Rowan opened his door and hugged the huge dog that jumped into the car and onto him, panting and slavering as only a hysterically excited dog can.
"Careful he doesn't pee on you, Rowan," said Jade, grinning, as she got out of the car and grabbed their overnight bags from the back seat.
"Jade!"
"Mom! Hi!"
"I was just thinking of calling David to see what time you'd left!" said Rowan's grandmother, screen door swinging shut with a bang as she came out to the car. "I was starting to get worried you'd gotten lost."
"Never."
"Hey, Mickey! Get off my grandson so I can see him! C'mere boy, sit. Oh, Rowan! Look at you! Come on inside, I've just made fresh lemonade, and then we can sit on the porch as long as you like. I made ginger cookies, too, your favorite. Let me just show you to the spare room, it's a bit small but it's cozy, and it's got a skylight you can look through before you go to sleep. Come on, give me that, my daughter's boy doesn't need to carry anything in this house!"
* * *
Rowan woke the next morning completely refreshed. (Who cares about Jason's stupid barbeque,) he thought. He'd spent the afternoon playing with Mickey in the yard and pulling up vegetables for dinner from the gardens, and helping his grandmother to peel and wash and chop the food for dinner, while Jade sat out on the porch writing in a notebook. All the while he knew the warmth of unconditional love from his mother and her mother, that aching sort of devotion that can only come from being a mother to a son, a grandmother to a grandson. He didn't want it to end.
Now the smell of breakfast and the chatter of his mother and grandmother from downstairs tortured him and he waited for as long as he could, just to see how much he could stand. Two minutes later he was down the stairs and in the small kitchen.
"Well, well, if it isn't the human tornado," his mother teased. "Good morning, sleepyhead."
"Hi mom, hi grandmamma," Rowan said, sliding into a chair at the table. "Breakfast smells pretty good, grandmamma."
"I'm glad, because there's a big old plate of it here that needs eating," his grandmother said, setting a plate mountained with food down in front of him. "Jade tells me she feeds you but growing boys can always eat more, am I wrong?"
"No," Rowan said around a mouthful of food. He shoveled biscuits and gravy and sausage into his mouth for a few minutes and then asked, "Hey, what's in the woods? Is there a lake like the name says?"
"Sure is, but it's in a different town," said Jade. "If you want, though, why don't you take Mickey and go on a hike later. Get some fresh air."
"Sure, Rowan," his grandmother encouraged. "Go make a few forts. In fact, there are some old sheets in the shed you can use, and an army backpack to put them in."
Rowan shoveled faster.
"Careful, Row, you'll make yourself sick," his mother warned, but he was finished eating already and was making his way out the door before she stopped speaking. "Be back by three!" she called after him, and smiled.
* * *
Rowan checked his watch - it was 2:00. He was deep in the woods now, and the trees were dense.
The trees stretched up and up and up - oaks, maples, some pines, hemlocks...Rowan had been walking in a dried-up streambed for a while and had made a fort with billowing sheets near the treeline, but he had tired of it after a while and had ventured deeper and deeper into the woods. (Mickey will lead me back,) he reasoned, (and I've still got a lot of time.)
The breeze had been brisk near the edge of the forest, but the wind didn't reach so far in. Rowan enjoyed the still air around him punctuated here and there with birdsong and the rustling of squirrels in the branches, and always the swish of generations of dead leaves under his bare feet. (There's nothing better than bare feet in the summer.)
Rowan realized he hadn't seen or heard Mickey in a while, so he called. "Mickeeeeeeeeeeeeey! Come on, boy!"
No response. Rowan stopped and listened for a minute and scanned the woods around him, but there was nothing. (Oh well. Mickey chased a squirrel off somewhere and he can't hear me. He'll be back. I hope he comes back soon though because I don't want to go looking for him.)
Rowan walked on, sniffing the air and looking up at the branches stretching so high above him. There was the occasional shrub scattered here and there in the gaps where trees had fallen, but for the most part the canopy was uninterrupted and the forest floor was dappled with light.
Up ahead, Rowan noticed a large clump of bushes with a bright beam of light streaming down on them. (Maybe whatever Mickey chased went over there to hide.) As he neared the bushes, he saw that they were blackberry bushes and was delighted at the prospect of bringing some berries home to feed to the birds, but was disappointed to remember that he didn't have anything to carry them in. He ate as many as he could anyway.
After a while, there was still no sign of the huge golden retriever, so Rowan put two fingers to his lips and whistled loudly.
Immediately after he did this he noticed that every other noise had faded with his whistle. No barks or galloping sounds from the dog. No chattering or scritching of squirrels. No birdsong. The silence was sudden and total and a little frightening.
Rowan looked around for a moment, surprised. He didn't want to make a noise in case...well, in case of nothing, but he thought it would be wrong to make another noise, because nothing else was. All of a sudden it felt like something was watching him.
(Well, I'll just head back the way I came in, that's all. I can find my way back and Mickey will show up and I'll be a bit early, that's all. I'll go back and tell Grandmamma about the blackberries so she can come another time and get some to make pies.)
He turned to do this and found that the forest must have been denser the way he came than he thought. He couldn't see an easy way through because the trees were so tightly packed, and there were prickers sticking up here and there and he didn't have shoes.
(That's weird. I didn't think they were there before. I must have not seen them because I was too busy looking at the blackberries.)
There was a clear path off to his right and Rowan started off that way. (I'll just go left when I can and head towards the house. If I remember how many steps I take this way, when I find another way through I'll go that many steps back and I can go the way I came.)
He began counting and taking steps.
At three hundred and sixty eight, a sound like a gunshot went off somewhere above him and Rowan was so frightened that the number went out of his head like smoke and he lost count.
The sound happened again and Rowan laughed a little - it was just trees moving and creaking. (That was a bit loud, but now I know what it is and I won't be scared anymore. And if I go back to the blackberries and start counting again, I can count back and then I'll know again. I won't lose count again because I know the sound is just trees.)
He turned around to go back and found once again that the way was blocked - there were so many trees in the way that he found it difficult to believe there'd been such a clear path before.
(I can't even see the blackberries from here! That's so weird, because it was a really big clump. I saw it from much further away than this before, when I saw them the first time. And where's Mickey?)
The cracking and creaking was now getting more frequent, and there was a quiet and persistent rustle as well.
Rowan looked up - it hadn't been that windy when he left the house.
But...now that he thought about it, it wasn't windy now.
He stuck a finger in his mouth and held it up to test - nope, no wind.
But then what was making those trees move?
Rowan was getting a bit creeped out.
(I'll just keep walking and find Mickey, and then head back to the house.)
In front of him, a clear way stretched and he followed it, forcing himself not to look over his shoulder. The leaves scrunched and whished under his feet as he went.
(Okay, this is getting a bit weird,) Rowan allowed himself to think. (And I'm late. Maybe I'd better run a little.)
As his speed increased, so did the volume and frequency of the creaks above his head. The rushing of leaves under his feet was drowned out by the splintering cracks that erupted alarmingly above him - it sounded like the entire forest was falling down, or even the sky.
After a few minutes, Rowan was sprinting, his sense of foolish pride now completely drowned out by his fear. He ran faster and faster as the noise grew louder, and then he just had to stop and rest, just had to.
He bent over, hands on his knees, and panted for a minute, trying not to cry. He just wanted to go home, just wanted to see sunlight again and stop hearing all these noises and he wanted to see Mickey and his mom and his grandmamma and get in the car and drive and drive and drive away from this stupid forest and these stupid trees, and-
Crying wouldn't help. Rowan stood up decisively and something was against his back.
He shrieked and leapt forward a little, spinning around once he was on his feet again.
Instead of simply a dense forest, he saw a wall behind him.
Fully grown oaks and maples and pines were crowded so closely he couldn't see how they'd grown at all, and where there was the tiniest gap there were blackberry brambles so tightly packed he couldn't get even a finger through.
(The trees are mad at me because of the blackberries?!) he thought hysterically, at the same time knowing it was impossible, and turned around again, crying now, unable to bear looking at the wall anymore. He had no idea where he was now. He didn't know where to go, and the path continued on in front of him. While he'd been turned around, the trees had somehow crowded closer on both sides. Rowan felt like he was suffocating.
"Where are you taking me?" he squeaked.
No answer from the trees.
* * *
Rowan didn't know how long he'd walked with the trees standing guard on either side; the path twisted here and there but it was impossible to tell whether he'd been one way or another before because the trees were always moving. The terrifying part was, he never saw them do it. It was like they'd grown that way all the time. The only thing that told him otherwise was the noise, which was giving him a headache.
He'd stopped crying long ago, and now only snuffled a little bit. He hoped Mickey was okay. He shuffled on slowly, just wanting to go home, always just wanting to see sunlight that wasn't filtered through thousands of leaves.
And then he saw it.
The slant of light shot straight down through the trees, cutting a path through the canopy, unhindered by leaf or branch or trunk; down and down, and it hurt Rowan's eyes to look at it. Again, it was like it had always been there, and he just happened to stumble on it walking around.
Rowan knew that wasn't the case.
He also knew he did not want to touch that light.
It was unnatural. No dust motes were dancing in it, and it didn't shiver when leaves cut through it like other sunlight beams did. It was too straight and too bright for late afternoon. And while Rowan wouldn't have noticed these things about it before, the fact was that the trees wanted him to go into it, and it was wrong wrong WRONG and he didn't want to.
He turned around again and the wall had caught up to him. Blackberry brambles stuck out in tendrils as though they wanted to catch him. He backed up a step and didn't know what to do. If he turned around and looked at the light, the wall would catch up to him. If he kept looking at the wall, who knew what the light would do.
He chanced a peek back over his shoulder - the light hadn't moved.
The wall had.
The blackberry brambles brushed his clothes and he jerked away, not wanting to move at all but not wanting to touch the trees either.
The light now had moved closer and was, if possible, even brighter than before.
Through spasms and jerks, Rowan drew unwillingly closer to the light, glancing like a frightened mouse this way and that, until he was just at the edge and staring at the wall in front of him. (If I don't look away, it won't move. If I don't look away, it can't catch up to me because it doesn't move when I look at it.)
A single leaf fell and brushed his nose, and Rowan blinked.
A blackberry branch suddenly stuck to his leg and Rowan lifted his foot, shaking it, and lost his balance and fell into the beam of light, reaching up an arm to shield his eyes from it.
* * *
Rowan struggled to his feet and opened his eyes.
The wall was gone. The trees were in their normal spots. The blackberries were gone, and there was no sound from anywhere around him. He was still standing in the beam of light.
Rowan felt a tickle and looked down. Goosebumps were all up his legs and he looked down at them in terror as he felt the skin tighten.
Rowan screamed aloud and tried to run, but his legs weren't working properly. To try to run made them ache terribly, like he was working them too hard. They moved stiffly like he'd slept on them funny, or like they were swollen. It was like those stilt-men in parades, how they moved. He wobbled on unnaturally straight legs for a few steps and fell face-down in the dirt and leaves, getting a mouthful. He howled again in sheer horror.
And his voice...it was like yelling into cotton. He knew no one walking in the woods would hear him, because he had barely heard his own voice. It had been barely a squeak. He tried again and now there was nothing. Making a massive effort he managed to clutch another tree and drag himself to his feet.
The goosebumps were painful now as his skin tightened more and more. The extra skin rose in great ridges all over his body and folded over itself and he felt rather than saw them harden. Bark. He closed his eyes and they sealed shut. Now he could only feel what was happening to him.
Rowan felt something...some things touch his feet from underground. He jerked away and fell out of the light, fell onto his stomach yet again, and tried to crawl along on the ground, moving along in fits and spurts. He caterpillered along for a few feet until he was totally exhausted, and heard the trees crack threateningly above as they shifted. (No!)
He felt the light fall on him again, and he knew it because it felt...good. It was warmth, it was health, it was strength, it was love and happiness and freedom.
He crawled blindly back into it with the last of his strength and succumbed, stretched upward, his arms more like branches now, lifting effortlessly towards the light like balloons, and he felt like his skin/bark was crackling with its energy.
His chin tilted up and light blazed red behind his eyelids, and slowly faded with the hardening of the skin on his face and across his eyes.
Everything was black though he stood in light, and his bark was alive with it though his nerves were far below.
Rowan felt himself go still, and slowly he forgot everything but the smell of deep earth around him, the silence of the wood, and the feel of a certain slant of light that made him shiver from his crown to his roots.
User Reviews
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2005-11-02 14:50:44 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Kick ASS
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-11-01 11:26:14 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
If I could give this a 1.95 or something like that I would.
Please don't think I'm Mr. Evil.
It was a well-told tale, but there were many turns of phrase that could have been tweaked and polished to smooth out the bumps, says Captain Typo.
And it probably could have been trimmed down a bit, as well, but I should probably stick that suggestion up my own ass, since I'm one of Uber's prime offenders in that respect.
Submitted by AshK (user info) at 2005-10-31 22:51:08 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I really, really liked this. My son is eleven, and I shall never let him go to the woods, his grandma's or anywhere with a dog named Mickey. So there.
Submitted by pen_name (user info) at 2005-10-31 22:42:33 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
bit, not but.
carry on.
Submitted by pen_name (user info) at 2005-10-31 22:40:43 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Awesome story. Nicely paced and original.
The only thing that bothered me was your use of "grandmamma."
Certain people can get away with it, like Hans Christian Anderson. The thing is, he was gay, introverted and lived a hundred years ago. Who wants that comparrison.
Still, I loved your other descriptions--particularly the but about the "dust motes." It made me smile in a "man-nobody-every-describes-those-in-fiction" kind of way.
Great Job.
Submitted by kaos-king (user info) at 2005-10-31 21:17:51 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Absolutely Excellent!
Submitted by stardamage (user info) at 2005-10-31 16:01:54 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Thanks! I wanted to have a little bit of "oh, he's away now, he's crawling, it's okay" and then the trees are all merciless and shit. I mean, a chase scene (kind of) with trees! There's nothing more frightening to me than being alone in deep woods, so I wanted to bring that out a bit.
Glad you liked it, thank you everyone for your comments.
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2005-10-31 15:45:33 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Damn you damn you damn you...when Rowan came to after his experience with the light, I got myself collected: "Oh, good, he's going to be fine now." And then he goes and succumbs to the fate you gave him. Good work, there, because you made me care enough about the little shit to feel for him.
I'll admit, before the very last section I was thinking the story was pretty so-so. Well written, but basically just a tale of a spooky day spent out in the forest. The ending absolutely cinched it, though. Very mythological. Very satisfying. Very different.
Submitted by runswithscissors (user info) at 2005-10-31 14:13:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Definately gave me goosebumps.........well done
Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2005-10-31 13:39:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I was worried that this would degenerate into something out of 'Evil Dead'. But it didn't.
So +2 for you.
Submitted by Merlina (user info) at 2005-10-31 10:35:30 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
AWESOME!
Submitted by stardamage (user info) at 2005-10-31 07:43:24 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Thanks, Caes. Point taken about the names. That had occurred to me after I posted it but by then what can you do.
I hate having to reformat my posts when I paste them in because I always fuck it up and miss doing something, but I'll definitely remember the bit about dialogue next time.
Next time... *shakes fist melodramatically at sky*
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-10-31 07:30:25 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Stardamage!! This was great!
I liked the time you put into developing Rowan's character. I also liked the internal monologue he had; he came across as a nice, smart kid. It worked so well that I didn't want anything bad to happen to him. Poor little guy. Molested by trees and his shitty boyfriend Jason. Wait, what?
Anyway, the tree thing was a nice angle. I think trees can be terrifying. You had a very creepy thing going on, and I liked the way you handled it. Suspenseful.
I think his mom's name was a little silly. Rowan and Jade? Sounds like two sci-fi convention attendees. Not every name in your story has to be unique or stand out. Do it too much and it seems silly. Other than that, I think formatting your story differently would make it easier to read (hitting the enter key in between lines of dialogue, for example, like you would see in a novel, would help).
Nice job!
Submitted by Wallstreet (user info) at 2005-10-31 02:35:31 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
damn
Submitted by Wallstreet (user info) at 2005-10-31 02:35:02 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
From the spacing I bet this is a dman good story.
Submitted by stardamage (user info) at 2005-10-31 02:30:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
I swear on my grandmother's grave I didn't see the Rowan bandwagon until I'd written this.
Jesus.