Bark

I struggle with each step, the thick grass clumping on to my shoes, fighting desperately to keep me from advancing. Fairies buzz in the air all around me, their humming creating an orchestra of voices, warning me to turn back. Swatting them away, I continue through the overgrowth, lifting my feet higher now as I walk. Soon, I break through a line of trees and step into a small grove.

Trees surround me on each side, looming high and filtering some of the late dawn light, suffocating me in their dark green canopy. Both stifling close and too far to touch, my breath comes in short bursts. I put my hand against the closest trunk to steady myself, but my fingers press against air where bark should’ve been. I fall in slow motion, like pictures in a flip book, I watch each individual frame before my head hits a clump of trampled weeds.

Under the wispy fog that covered the ground, dew clings to the blades of grass, sparkling like jewels when the pale sunlight catches them. I turn my head to the left, my neck moving before my eyes eventually follow.

Inches from my nose, a pair of closed eyelids look back at me. Plump black fairies swirl around the face the eyes belong to.

“Oh, hey,” I chuckle. “Thought I was alone,” I say more to myself than my new companion. I turn my head to the sky, lying flat on my back. The canopy of leaves stretch overhead, their branches woven like fingers, shielding me as I feel my breathing return to normal.

I shut my eyes and the face of my sleeping friend hangs like a painting behind my eyelids. He is beautiful. In my brief daydream, he opens his eyes and they are the color of the bark. Brown. Rich. So dark that I’m not sure where his iris stops and where his pupils begin. There is a warmth behind them that doesn’t match the rest of his face and his full lips don’t smile back at me, even in my dreams. His face is completely blank, almost cold.

Far away, a bell tolls in its tower. A pause. The bell tolls again. And then a third ring. Faster this time. The bell rings with panic now. Rapidly, the sound of brass against brass quickens and my heartbeat speeds up to match its rhythm. My eyes fly open, my breaths unable to fill me with oxygen. The sound grows nearer until it can’t possibly get any closer. It is inside me then. The sound fills my ears, flowing in through my nose and jamming itself down my throat, choking me. Each ring pulses in my skull and I look around in confusion.

Stone ruins have sprung up all across the field, moss crawling across the sprawling structure. I look back down at the sleeping boy, but mushrooms grow out of his head where his face should be. I scramble backward, my heart beating so fast now, I’m sure it’ll burst. My back hits wet stone and I crumple against it. Some of the small winged creatures have grown bored of the boy and cling to me now. Directly overhead a massive bronze bell hangs from the stone, rusted, but ringing as clear as it ever could. I clamp my hands over my ears thinking it’ll help. 

What did they give me?

I bury my face into my knees. The black fairies hum closer until I feel them all around me, their hum refusing to falter. I tuck my head between my legs and press my knees to my temples. I sit and cry.

The tears fall fast and heavy, warm against my cheeks. I don’t understand why I’m crying. Maybe it’s the bell that keeps me from breathing. Maybe the jet black fairies that won’t leave me alone. Or maybe it’s the beautiful boy who lays mere feet away from me, yet to open his eyes. 

I keep my face hidden there for days. The tears don’t stop, but eventually the clang of the bell fades and disappears altogether. I feel my lungs expand, the tight cords that had restricted them disappearing with the bell. All the air in the world isn’t enough to fill my chest, but I settle for a few deep shaky breaths.

Eventually, I lift my head, but can’t bring myself to look up. I stare at the patch of grass between my two denim-clad trunks of legs. A little grove in its own right. Little men with several legs scurry around the grove and up my tear splotched jeans. I watch them for a while before working up the courage to let my eyes wander past my personal grove.

The ruins are nowhere to be seen. The bell no longer hangs overhead and the trees have taken its place again. My heartbeat relaxes a little, no longer threatening to leap out of my chest. I stare around the open field, not focusing on anything in particular.

The white tips of sneakers peek out from atop the wild grass and suddenly I remember the sleeping boy. I creep towards him cautiously on all fours, not caring to brush the little men off my pants. The fairies have found their way back to him and I pause. Hesitantly, I look down at him. The mushrooms have receded back into the Earth, leaving only his face.

His brows are slightly creased, even in sleep. He looks mad and I silently hope he’s not upset with me. His lips are parted as the fairies prance around them. I think about chasing them away, but they must be friends of the boy if he’s allowed them this close. Maybe they’re protecting him. 

I stare at him. An entire life lurks behind those eyelids. A life I know nothing about. I wonder if he’s like me. I doubt it. He doesn’t look like he’s from around here. It’s more likely he’s from a different planet. A planet where fairies follow everybody around and nobody ever gets that weird feeling in their chest where they can’t breathe right. I wish he’d open his eyes and tell me all about his home.

“Hey,” I say in a low whisper, hoping to wake him up. His eyes stay closed though. I shake his shoulder gently. He doesn’t move. He is beautiful. I sigh and lay down next to him. He’ll wake up soon. And when he does, I really hope his eyes are the color of bark.