Deepest Darkest Woodland
By Rachel Wade
you peel your eyelids open damp sore rimmed with nuggets of fairy dust from the dream weaver afternoon nap in the forest our giant tent cocoons and shields protects our secret our hiding place blinking awakening you stare up into the silver canvas dappled with cotton wool tufts and a glowing orb deadened by mist a sublime fantasy i stretch my fingers for your skin let me in i’m here now baby let me touch your left cheek with my cool tips exposed and nails nibbled i can’t see only feel the downy fluff slightly damp soft unscarred but one day soon i press the flesh it yields leaves marks i check for warmth alive yes just though the air is suffocating freezing how long have we been here we’ve done it this time but too long and you’ll soon shiver like a newly budded leaf in the breeze but it’s ok i got you babe where is the blanket ruffled underneath tassels askew stroke it out there there you cough innocently are you proving your existence to me oh i see phew wash of relief like ice water only a mother can know can feel
i watch white wisps curl from your crimson crescents rising floating up up up you enchanted creature you child of nature the twirly path of your breath up and over the duvet up and over the branches up and over and out beyond these clouds we create way up high fractured by the criss-crossing lines of our canopy like smashed glass i’m here that’s me against you i can hear the rattling rhythm of your heartbeat it lulls the suffering in my heart your jumper’s hairy against my face it tickles and the cartoon eyes bulge from the cat the feline friend where did he go stop shaking now hush see my words come out encased in fog hush my darling one you are stirring turning trying fighting saying sit up get up go back but no not now not yet let me tuck you in a few minutes more under your chin i’m a good mother and you’re my girl my angel
do you remember the dream when the cave mouth ate me up whole dripping teeth above and pools underfoot the dead thing grotesque and divine drinking sloppy sodden mouthfuls from a disc of pale grey i saw i did i swear it but it’s a story only a story don’t be frightened your eyes so wide is it me or is it getting darker oh god yes i hear it too the feet their footfall faster faster and shouting the noise they’re near ah here the bastards one grabs you and he grabs me and they haul me up and the magic kingdom breaks shatters dissipates like smoke please don’t please no i am happy here i am recovered i am fine all fine all fine without the pills and the people inside she’s my daughter do you hear me and i am her mother i can take care of her
night is coming and we are inside now with the warmth smelling like burning dust and soggy cabbage making me gag and you say nothing but hold the other lady’s hand i get it i understand they left the duvet outside my bed is bare here in my room my prison its stale air chokes and the blasted glass won’t open out onto the square of sky in case i run again of course i will but i won’t take the tablets no thank you just let me go back to deepest darkest woodland with my girl me and she us and the thoughts always the thoughts round round round like a dance you come for a kiss there’s a good girl thank you i will always love you peachy cheeks your hair is like cashmere you are only seven or maybe ten my dear she leads you away we wave sleep now see you soon i’ll meet you in my sweetest dreams beside the trees we grew together i promise i promise
Rachel Wade is a storyteller from York, UK. After graduating with a BA and MA in English, she worked in heritage, marketing, human resources and teaching alongside freelancing as a journalist. Rachel continues to contribute to online and print publications as well as writing short stories. She is also working on a second novel. racheltyping.wordpress.com | twitter.com/rachel_typing