"Breath Of The Trees" by Dalton Kohlbeck
Breath of the Trees
by Dalton Kohlbeck
Mara Ellison didn’t believe the stories about Elmsbrook. The locals warned all visitors not to enter the forest. It wasn’t due to bears or wolves because, to speak of, the wilderness was nearly devoid of living creatures. The town that lay just beyond the expansive forest stayed as far from the woodline as it could. A border of WARNING and KEEP OUT signs lined the space between the town and the looming expanse of wilderness.
The locals all agreed the forest was hauntingly beautiful, especially in autumn, when the leaves burst into fiery shades of red and orange. But they still wouldn’t go near it. Every year, people came to visit the wilderness. And every year, those who ignored the warnings, entered the forest and vanished without a trace or returned half-mad, dehydrated, and raving about a decaying wasteland. Those few who did come back… never stayed for long. The survivors always became agitated and desperate to go back. Whether it was days or weeks later, they all made their way back into the trees, never to be seen again.
The tales about the woodland varied. Some said it was haunted, others whispered of creatures or alien abductions. Whatever the truth was, the forest had claimed many, and it always seemed to be waiting for more.
Mara was a field biologist working on her thesis: ecosystems untouched by man. To her, Elmsbrook was perfect. Pristine. Pure. The locals tried to stop her first gently, then more urgently. When it became clear she wouldn’t listen, they only said:
Don’t breathe too deep.
Don’t venture too far in.
Don’t stay too long.
She smiled politely and nodded, already dismissing their warnings as folklore and superstition. Good for tourism, maybe, but not for science.
On her second morning in town, Mara rose before dawn, packed her gear, and hiked into the forest alone. The sky glowed a soft blue. Sunlight poured across the forest canopy like honey. A faint, sweet, almost floral scent drifted on the air.
She passed through the signs without a moment's hesitation. The forest welcomed her.
By midday, she’d collected a dozen samples. Arriving near a gentle brook, she found a flat, shaded patch of earth, perfect to set up camp.
She pitched her tent beneath an amber-leaved maple and unpacked her equipment. Everything seemed strangely easy, as if the forest wanted her to stay. It was quite peaceful and deeply relaxing as if she were floating on a cloud. Mara couldn't believe the locals were so afraid of such a magical place.
She sat down by the brook and began cataloging her findings. One sample in particular drew her focus. The trees were releasing a floral scented pollen, golden and glittery in the light. She ran a few tests. Her hands trembled with excitement. It was a naturally occurring hallucinogenic drug. Potent and complex. Unlike anything she’d seen.
Instead of feeling concerned or worried, she felt a deep sense of calm euphoria wash over her. She slumped down and vapidly stared, mesmerized by the dancing foliage and the pristine sky. The hours drifted by like seconds.
It wasn’t until a sudden sneezing fit that her mind jolted awake. Dazed, she tried to stand, but a wave of vertigo dropped her back to the ground. Panic suddenly flooded through her system. I have to get out of here, she thought, before it’s too late.
But the panic passed as quickly as it came. The breeze carried the floral fragrance back, and she exhaled with a dreamy smile. Collapsing back down to the ground, she curled up and let herself be lulled into a deep, luxurious sleep.
When she next awoke, the sun was blazing overhead. The forest was unnaturally silent. She stretched, inhaled deeply, and staggered to her feet, her balance uneasy, her thoughts foggy. She stumbled towards the brook to splash water on her face.
The moment the icy water touched her face, she froze.
Under the water a skeletal face gazed back up at her, the entire stream was littered with the bones of animals and humans alike worn smooth by water and time.
The terror punched her like a thunderclap. The stories were wrong, she realized. Not ghosts or monsters, it’s the forest itself.
She lurched away, heart pounding, as she tripped and fell hard into a tangle of rotting remains. All around her were carcasses in various states of decay — a graveyard, a decaying wasteland of flesh and bones. The animals must have all been drawn here by the promise of water. Instead they were instead intoxicated by the pollen and trapped in the clutches of the forest. Her mind torn between reality and fantasy, unable to accept the rotting wasteland. She ached for it all to transform back into the wondrous forest.
The breeze stirred again. The floral fragrance returned, and her fear faded. The forest shimmered back into fantasy-like beauty. The carnage replaced by a pristine, beautiful landscape.
She smiled with a dazed, stupefied look on her face. She stumbled awkwardly, slowly back towards her tent.
Her legs grew heavier with every step. The ground seemed to pull at her. She fell just outside her camp and rolled onto her back. She watched the leaves rustle above her in hypnotic patterns. Stars blinked into the darkening sky, the scent smothering her like wool wrapping around her mind.
She inhaled the suffocatingly floral air while she lay there fading in and out of consciousness as time seemed to slow. Finally, with a long relaxing exhalation of breath, she fell into a deep everlasting sleep as the forest enveloped her. The forest fell quiet once more as Mara became its new permanent resident, feeding the trees with her remains.
Back in town, her belongings were boxed. Her rented room was cleared and the last traces of her existence erased. Her name was neatly marked onto the side of the box and then stacked alongside dozens of others who never returned from the insatiable forest.