Beyond the Forest

Darkness covered the night sky in a dim hypnotic frame. The stars aligned, glaring down at the world below. Red and orange maple trees roared in the cold wind.  And as any signs of civilization disappeared in the silence, I remember a scream of agony propelling down the blackness of a corridor and loud groans covering up the previous quiet of the night. I remember my feet resigning from the mattress, planted on the ground, then dashing toward the blasting noise. My heart was thumping in my chest then dropped deep into the dark pit of my stomach. 

“Mom hurry!” My daughter cried out.

I reminisce about this moment in my head a lot. I still remember the pain caught deep in my throat, cutting the skin around, choking me with fear. I always wondered if there was something I could do at this specific moment. Something to take away her pain or protect her from the others. If I knew her fate then, I would have covered her screams and hidden her away, away from the Priests, away from the doctors, away from the townspeople. I would have kept her as my own safe in our rickety wooden home where no know one could ever hurt her, or judge her, or make lies of her.

“I’m coming, Maeve!” I shouted back pelting down the unlit hallway. 

I entered a jet black room feeling the floorboards creek louder than usual underneath me. My daughter's groans minimized as I ran to her bedside attempting to calm her down. 

Her illness had come just under a week ago and I had tried my best to heal the sickness on my own through wet rags, herbal tea, rest, and prayer, but I feared that the disease was more serious than I could handle alone. As she slept in the early mornings I would spend my time asking questions to village professionals of the plague or smallpox. I then would arrive back home just before Maeve would wake and make her boxty, using the potatoes from our farm for breakfast. I had hoped that maybe she was just malnourished and the starchy potatoes would heal her, but still her illness had gotten worse. Bright red rashes had dispersed and spread all over her young fragile skin. She had chills, and sweating, burning skin, and the appearance of her deadly scornful screams became a part of our daily routine. My poor girl was just eleven11 years old and I was beginning to imagine scenes in my head, preparing myself for the scenario that she may not make it to her next birthday. I feared the death of my innocent child and spent my nights asking God what I had done wrong to be cursed with this and often pleaded for him to take me instead. Then I would creep into Maeve’s room, stare at her soft tiny face, and stroke her luscious ginger locks, trying to hold onto every increment of her I had left. 

Worst of all, as diseases were getting more complex and questions were being left unanswered, myths were forming around our little town in Ireland. Myths of monsters and creatures roaming our human world. Stories of changelings were spreading all over Europe. Tales of human bodies being switched with one of a fairy from another universe. Lies and accusations were being spread, innocent people were being burned at the stake. And my clueless mind knew not of how changelings would come to affect Maeve and I. 

“Maeve, I think that we may have to call the doctor. This sickness is far worse than what we could have imagined and I’ve done what I know to try and heal you, but this illness is out of my abilities.” I calmly stated, sitting concerned at my daughter's bedside. 

“But mom, the doctor is expensive. We don’t have the money to pay for his visit.”

“Don’t you be concerned about money, I’ll figure it out.”

“But what if he can’t fix me? What if I don’t make it?”

“Honey, please don’t talk about such things.”

Several days later the foggy morning mist had spread dew over cold dull grass. I had woken to the noise of heavy clattering from a distance. Rolling up out of bed, I looked towards an old window in my chambers. In an attempt to search for the disturbance, I peered through the restless swaying of birch trees and the blotchy forest green bushes, past where my farm land touches the woods, past the murky creek, and that’s when I saw him. He pranced through the forest on the blurred picture of a dark brown horse making his own path as he got closer to my tiny wooden cottage. 

“Maeve! Maeve dear, wake up!” I shouted across the house

“What is it Mother?” She grumbled back in a groggy tone so slow it sounded that she had just woken up. 

“Wake up, we have a visitor!”

“Who?”

“The doctor!”

Making an effort to look somewhat presentable, I ripped off my nightgown and changed into black linen dress that reached past my knees. Quickly I scrambled down the hall of my one story home and into our kitchen. I put a pot of water over the fireplace for tea and prepared a basket of potatoes. Then a loud blaring knock was heard on a loop at the door. After pushing the wood open I saw him standing there. He wore a long black trench coat that traveled down to his shiny brown boots and a matte black top hat to cover his balding head. He had a trimmed mustache and a frilly gray and white beard. 

“Good morning. Dr. Murphy,” nodding, as he shook my hand.

“Orla. Thank you for coming,” I responded, shaking his hand.

“Of course, what seems to be the issue?”

“You see my daughter, Maeve, she came down with an illness just under a week ago and I’ve tried to treat it on my own, but I'm not a doctor and I just want her to get better.” 

“I understand, where may your daughter be?”

“Down the hall, please follow me.”

“Could I treat you to a basket of fresh potatoes straight from the farm? Or some tea, I just put on the water!” 

“Thank you, but that's not necessary,.” hHe said, trudging behind.

We walked down a brown oak hallway and turned towards a dark shadowed doorway. I lifted my head and stared at her. She lay buried underneath a deep brown comforter with her pale sick face and long ginger hair peeking out. The doctor made his way towards the bed quickly covering his face with a handkerchief mask for precautions. 

“Hi, Maeve, I’m Dr. Murphy. Can you tell me what hurts?”

“My head and my stomach and I’m really cold.”

“I see. Are the rashes on your face all over your body?”

“Yes, they won't go away.”

He spent time examining her and taking notes on a slice of paper then stood up from his previous kneeling position.

“I’m gonna go talk to your mom,” add how he said this

“Okay”

The doctor walked out of the shadowed doorway and met me in the  dimmed hall. I saw his old face covered in tension and remorse as if he had done something wrong. As if he had made Maeve ill.

“There’s no way to say this lightly.” He stated in a disappointed tone.

“What, what happened? Please tell me she will be ok,.” I pleaded.responded.

“I feel your daughter’s situation is a bit more complex than a disease.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I believe Maeve to be a changeling.”

 My daughter is not a changeling! Don’t you dare stand in my house and accuse her of this.”

“I know this may be hard to hear, but the proper precautions must be made in order to get your real daughter back and demolish this sick creature.”

“No! This is ridiculous. I did not ask you to come so you could make lies, I asked you to come and heal Maeve!”

“I know, but-”

“Get out of my house, now!”

“I’ll have the priest come by very soon. I promise we just want to help. You have a good day now.”

I watched him walk away ‘till his sight faded from my vision. Then I stood head in hands as salty streams flowed down my face, onto my fingers, into my mouth. All the pain welled inside was starting to spew out at once.

 I can’t remember now how long I had cried. It could have been minutes, maybe hours. I have blurred that moment and pushed it to the back of my mind. I’ve tried to forget the pain of it all, but even today my heart continues to throb thinking back.

Walking back to my daughters room I had wiped my face until the skin was dry and all the tears had fallen to the ground. I fixed my slouched posture to appear stronger and more sure of myself for the sake of Maeve. I walked back in the creaking door opening slowly and saw her peacefully resting. I looked deeply at her face, her beautiful innocent face, and I knew in that moment I couldn’t tell her the truth just yet; no matter how selfish it may have been keeping this from her. Suddenly her ivory green eyes peered open and she turned on her side to face me.

“Hello, mother,.” sShe said while yawning.

“How did you sleep?” I questioned.

“Very well.”

“Good.”

“What did the doctor say?”

“You have a bad head cold, it should subside soon,.” I said with guilt pouring down my face.

“That's good news!”

“Very good.”

“TOh, the priest may come at some point today or maybe tomorrow, I’m not entirely sure.”

“Why?”

“We haven’t been to church in a few days. He just wants to check in,.” I lied again.

“Oh, ok.”

“Ok, go back to sleep now,.” I spoke quietly while shutting the door.

Later that day, as the sun could be seen setting in the forest and the sky bloomed vibrant pinks and shining amber and baby blue, and the clouds dispersed into cotton candy strands I had heard a light knock on the door which increasingly got louder when I avoided answering at first. I knew who it was, I knew what he would say, I knew what he would tell my daughter, I knew what he would tell the townspeople, and I didn't want to hear it and I didn’t want to open the door. All I wanted was for my daughter to heal and for all to go back to normal. But I also knew that if I didn’t open the door soon the Ppriest would get suspicious which could be significantly worse. So, I walked out of my room, through the hallway, to the front door, paused and stared at the wooden shape, then opened. He stood there in the frame completely covered in cloth, with a golden cross hanging from his neck, wrinkles permanently imprinted in his forehead, and a confident expression in his stance.

“I'm afraid you already know why I'm here.” He whispered softly.

‘I'm afraid so.” I responded quietly.

“Well then I suppose we shall get this over with. Where is that nasty changeling, she must be removed at once.” 

“Removed!?” I asked.

“Well, yes of course. We can’t have a changeling circling our planet. It must be removed.”

“No, no. My  daughter is not a changeling. She is just sick and needs help.” I said with urgency.

“Dearest, I understand your confusion, but this is not your real daughter. I promise I will try my very best to find your Maeve and return her. Now let me in please.” 

I remember feeling weak after that, so weak that I was paralyzed in my stance. I wanted to go save Maeve, but I was frozen with my feet planted on the ground, my hands dangling at my waist, sadness filling in my eyes, but no tears would come out. Then I saw my helpless daughter and was released from a state of shock. My poor girl was so sick she couldn’t even walk, the priest had to drag her. I ran after her, but he had shoved me to the side and began making his way to the door.

“Mom, help me!” Maeve cried out.

“Please please rethink this. Look at her, she's not a changeling, she’s sick! Please try to understand. Don’t take her away from me, she's all I got! She's all I-”

The priest cut me off, “If you really wish to see the changeling one more time it’s execution will be tomorrow morning, seven o’clock, in town hall, at the stake. Have a nice evening.”

“No! No! Plea-” He shut the door in my face and took my daughter with him. 

I then pulled open the front door and ran out trying to follow them.

“Don't do this. Please don’t do this.” I cried out.

“Ma’am, like I previously said this is not your real daughter, so if you’ll excuse me I’ll be on my way now.” He said while pushing Maeve onto a horse and pulling himself on.

Then he kicked the side of the horse and they were off, gone forever. I ran after her for a while, through the trees and the bushes and the dirt, but it would be useless. I couldn't run as fast as a horse. And I wasn’t powerful enough to stop a Ppriest.

The next morning came faster than I had hoped and nothing could have prepared me for what was to come. 

That day I remember the weather so clearly, the sky was a pale gray, the sun was covered by clouds, and the atmosphere was solemn and depressing. People gathered in a large crowd at the center of town all chanting the words, “Kill the changeling! Kill the changeling! Kill the changeling!”

I was appalled at the words shouted. I didn’t get it, how could people not fathom the fact that they were cheering on the death of an innocent child? My innocent child. 

Suddenly I saw a horse prancing out, dragging along a cart. My heart sank knowing that my Maeve was inside of it. People in the crowd stopped their chanting and suddenly the world went silent. Everyone watched as the cart rolled along to the stand then stopped. Maeve walked with red puffy eyes. My poor girl looked so scared and so unsure. I don’t know now what came over me but I started running and screaming as if that would do anything at all.

“No! Please don’t take her. Don’t take her. Take me instead, I beg of you, all of you.” I screamed out. I felt stares surrounding me as I lost control. I remember my arms being restrained by officers and my legs and tears dropping hard to the concrete below.  

When I looked up again I saw her on the stand. I saw her shaking and crying, she had never looked so vulnerable. Her hands were tied behind her back when a man came over and lit a small flame to her skirt. The fire began to spread all over her dress soon enough reaching her skin. Her screams of pain echoed through the town. I wanted to look away and close my eyes, but I knew I would feel too guilty after. So I stood there crying as fire engulfed her skin, burning her away as if she was a piece of paper. 

I never recovered from that moment. I’ve never been able to forgive anyone for what they did to her. I’ve never been able to go back to church and look that Ppriest in the eye. I’ve never seen a doctor since. But I will always know that changelings are just a myth and that my daughter never was one.

Sydnee Bowden, Grade 11

Creative Writing Major