Ancient Wood

 Fifty years since I last saw my dear Lauralai. Since I last saw her infectious smile, round face, and brown tresses of hair which framed her face like the branches of The Ancient Woods. The Ancient Woods I told her not to enter.

Spots of the sun spilled between the cracks of the ancient trees. Some trees were hunched over like a bad back after years of enduring the harsh weather of the north. We trekked through them, along with thick patches of soil to reach our cabin, the one we chose to rent for our getaway after months of planning.
And there it was, the centerpiece of it all. The cabin.
The cabin was in questionable condition: lopsided, gingered with rust, and smothered with smoke piped out from the chimney overhead. It was built from cedar wood, yet it was nearly unrecognizable and damaged from the weather. Three of the windows were intact, while some of the shards of one window were still covering the floor, most likely from one of the previous guests. Guests who didn’t bother taking care of such a precious cabin.
On the inside were multiple taxidermy decorations which greeted you on entry, a medium-sized TV located in the den, deep brown sofas and furniture made of wood, and two rooms opposite each other in the back of the cabin.
“Our getaway will take our minds off of things,” she assured me once more. We’ve heard stories about this cabin, some bad, and some good, but never saw any reviews about it online. What piqued our interest the most though was The Woods.
Nature encircled the cabin from one end to the other, as if trying to protect it from the outside world. Originally, it was exactly what we wanted. Somewhere rural, tranquil, covered in not one drop of concrete, but most importantly, away from the rest of humanity.
That’s what The Ancient Woods wanted too.
On our second day at the cabin, we found it fit to explore The Ancient Woods around us, preferably without technology of any sort. Just me and Laurali touring the woods hand in hand, together at all times.
“Look, look!” She exclaimed.
She pointed to a tree entangled with moss, vines, and another plant I couldn’t pinpoint. It was a flower with tiny teal petals, and had an oddly sweet scent, one that I dared not to sniff any longer. Lauralai dragged her thin fingers over some engravings on the tree. The vines moved slightly at her touch, as if reacting to her gentle touch. The engraving read ‘L+G’, which I assumed to be a couple here before us.
“How peculiar.” I ran a hand through my blonde hair. “There was a couple here before us with the same initials. Isn’t that strange?”
“I think it’s nice that others were able to enjoy the cabin before us,” responded Lauralai. “Oh, Greyson! You simply must sniff this plant. Isn’t it sweet?”
She held up the indiscernible plant to my nose, which I quickly recoiled. She gave an arched brow to my hesitance.
“I prefer not to smell wild plants,” I muttered.
“Your loss.”
For the next few days, we continued the woods together until the fourth night came. Lauralai fell ill: she vomited day and night, had a burning fever, and couldn’t swallow her medicine properly. Figures. It was an off-brand, ineffective medicine anyway. Until the night was over, I sat with her, ran my fingers through her deep brown hair, and sang her gentle lullabies to keep her calm.
“Do you think it was the plant you sniffed?” I asked.
“No,” she replied, her voice hoarse. “I suspect it was the salmon I ate last night.”
“Is there anything I could do to help?”
She mashed her lips together for a moment. “The plant in the woods. It might be able to help my symptoms.”
“But—”
“Greyson, trust me. It is a Serket Rose. It’s supposed to heal anything major. I’ve used it before. Please, go and get it.”
“Fine, but promise me you’ll stay here.”
What she asked went against everything. My principles, my instincts, my body, and my mind. My mind told me the opposite thing each time I thought of fetching the plant. My stomach churned, and I nearly vomited thinking of it. Something inside of me was telling me a cold hard ‘no’.
The next day, I ignored my instincts, and I scoured for something to make medicine with the Serket Rose for my dear Lauralai. I passed through small creeks, familiar paths we’ve already gone down, bushes with thorns tangled within them, and puddles of mud just to find the plant I was looking for. It was odd that it still wasn’t on the tree we looked at yesterday. Finally, I found the flower perched on a bush, a much different place than where I found it yesterday. Plucking it felt like pulling teeth; it just wouldn’t budge.
Vines wrapped around my wrist as I pulled it away. “Damned bush,” I cursed under my breath. The flower was tugged back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, until the vine snapped. Never had I experienced this stubborn behavior from a plant.
Even though I was confident in my ability to retrieve the plant, I wasn’t confident in my ability to make the medicine. Without a second thought, I turned on my heel, and headed back to the cabin. To my surprise, there she was, standing as if she wasn’t having trouble getting out of bed this morning.
“Lauralai?” I said. “What are you doing? You need to be resting.”
“You don’t know the recipe for the medicine, so I thought I should make it myself.” She snatched the wooden bowl from my hands.
I shook my head. “Lauralai—”
“Greyson, I’ve got it!” She shouted, her tone sharper than usual. Before this, she had never yelled at me, not even once.
She staggered onto a bush, one that looked similar to the one I pulled the flower from, and dropped the bowl. Before I knew it, vines gripped onto her ankles, and snatched her backward toward a pit of mud.
“Lauralai!” I yelped. “Quick, grab onto my hand!”
She extended an arm out while squirming in the grip of the vines. Her white shirt began staining with small patches of blood. “Greyson!”
I could only hold onto her for a few minutes longer. My arm began to ache, my fingers were pricked with thorns, and her unevenly cut nails were digging into my skin. I tried everything to keep my spirits high, but in a situation like this, how could I?
Her hand slipped from mine, and dug into the wet soil beneath her. “Greyson!” She called out once more. “Please!”
I tried grabbing her hand once more, but it was too late. With a bloodcurdling scream, she was sucked into the pit below. The deep dark pit which had no end.
Only a dark abyss.
“Lauralai!” I called out.
And there was no response.
Now, I sit here in the same cabin decades later, wondering what I could’ve done to save her. Multiple ideas have popped in my head since then, some suggesting the obvious, and some suggesting things I wouldn’t dare try myself. Lauralai has been buried in the earth, and hasn’t seen the light, any light, since 1976.
Everyday, I visit the bushes, and pluck any Serket Rose in sight, in hopes of crawling into the abyss myself, and joining her.
My sweet, sweet Lauralai.