THE BLACK FOREST

Oh dear, be wary of who you love....

"Can't you feel how I shake when I kiss you?" muttered the lad to his girl as they wandered through the forest.

She glanced at him coyly and nodded. "I can," she whispered, "and I know why it is: I know it's because you love me like I love you - and it's all so precious and so beautiful I could swoon."

"Me too," he nodded, not really enjoying such soppy emotional talk but needing to say stuff.

"You love me?" she asked, smiling. "And to think I'm such an ordinary girl!"

"I love you more than I love anyone or anything else, more even than I love myself," he vowed, and she could tell from the earnest expression on his face that he meant every syllable of it. "In fact," he added, grinning suddenly broadly, "in fact I'd say you were good enough to eat!"

"And I love you just the same, though I'd never dream of eating you!" she whispered. "It's the most beautiful feeling I've ever known and I want it to go on and on forever, not fading, not getting less, just better and better and better as we get closer and closer…"

"It will," he vowed. "Kiss me, my lovely angel, kiss me…."

She leaned towards him, her lips barely parting, and when they touched she slipped the tip-most part of her tongue into his mouth and he shivered.

"That was beautiful," he moaned when they parted. "It was … there aren't enough words in my head to explain it … I've never kissed that way before and it … it was the best thing ever, like a delicious meal!"

"I know," she sighed, "and I loved the taste of you, the raw flavour of your youth … I love you, darling, the way you look at me, your smile when we talk, the moisture on your lips when we kiss, every single thing about every moment with you…"

"That's how I feel, too," he groaned, shaking like a fig-leaf in a summer breeze. "I want the warmth of you forever and ever and ever … kiss me again, my darling, like you just did, let me feel your sweet mouth move slowly into mine, its juices mixing with mine, take me with you to Heaven…."

"Of course," she sighed, and she pulled him gently towards him and kissed him a second time, this time exploring more of his mouth with her tongue, letting its flavours and warmth enter her own mouth, warming her, filling her with a new kind of greed.

Then she pulled away from him and they walked on, further into the forest, and because he loved her and because she loved him they gazed endlessly at each other, deep into each other's eyes, and took little notice of where they were going.

Every so often either he would pause and would kiss her, or she would pause and kiss him, which was exactly what they should have been doing.

But there was something else they should have been doing as well.

They should have taken some note of the lateness of the hour and the direction they were going. Instead, darkness descended onto the forest and when they noticed that it was night and looked back to see the way home they were surrounded by nothing but the tentacles of old brambles reaching out from where they were lurking and the sheer black of a forest night. Here and there were twin points of green or red or yellow light as this or that creature gazed at them from strange hiding places, and maybe licked their lips in anticipation of a fine feed before the night was over.

"We're lost!" he said, horror on the lines of his face. "My love for you has blinded me even as we kissed, and I have guided you from the safe paths through the forest, and we are lost!"

She took him by one hand and smiled, though he couldn't see the sweetness of her face.

"Then I will guide you, my darling," she whispered. "I know this forest well, and I will take you by safe ways until you reach your heart's desire!"

He tried to pull away from her as if to ask her how she knew so much about this dark place and what, indeed, his heart's desire might be, for suddenly he was curious.

"Have no fear!" she laughed, her voice a musical tinkle. "I will guide you well!"
He looked around again. By then the last vestiges of the day had gone and he could see her, but only just. Everything else was a Stygian monochrome of black nothing. He had no choice. If he tried to lead the way out of the forest he knew he would blunder into danger within half a dozen paces, and the twin lights shining green and red from the depths of the darkness warned him that such a move would be folly indeed.

"I am in your hands, though by all that's right it should be the other way round," he moaned.

"Cheer up, my darling," she said, laughing again, her tinkling voice sounding eerie in the black forest. "I know of a little cottage not so far from here, where we can shelter through the dark of night until it is safe to leave and return home with the morning light!"

"But…" he began.

"Tush!" she tinkled. "And there are games we could play, my sweet: games that lovers play! We could spend the night in Heaven with our bodies together, much closer than they have ever been!"

"I should return home," he said, doubtfully. "I will be missed.”

"So will I my sweet!" she laughed. "But it is better to be under a roof and safe than out in the wilds of the black forest after night has fallen!"

"My folks may well come and search for me…" he continued.

"And mine, my love, but it is known that none will find us, for all paths change once night has fallen and what seems broad and straight under the light of the day's sun becomes black and narrow and hopelessly twisted after dark! I know this to be true, so come, now, while there is yet time for us to find the cottage that I know of, and seek refuge."

"But do you know who lives there?" he asked.

"Fear not! That is the good part of the whole thing!" she laughed. "I believe that it is the home of friends of mine, and they will greet us warmly and give us a place to sleep, and we will play the kind of games together than you have never dreamed of, not in your life of dreaming!"

"Then I must come with you," he said, resignedly.

She laughed again, and took him by one hand again, and drew him with her through the forest.

What had been black night became even blacker night. Every so often there was the call of some bird, maybe a crow, yet there was no sight of it. But the girl seemed to know where she was going, for he neither tripped nor stumbled, merely shook with what might have been fear at wild cries battering his ears and the suggestion in the gloom of gigantic trees reaching down towards him, black on black, ready to grab him.

Then, on a moment he may well have begun to believe might never come, they stumbled towards the lit windows of a cottage.

It was the first inviting thing the lad had seen since darkness had fallen.

The girl laughed at him.

"Come," she said, delightedly. "We will be welcome here! For I have been told of this cottage many times and feel that I know the place well, and my friends are warm of heart and will greet you like a long lost son!"

She pushed the door open and stood in the open space, looking into the room at a crone older than the stars who was sitting by the embers of a dying hearth.

The lad stood just behind her, and looked over her shoulder.

"Hello mother," he said, smiling broadly. "Look what I've brought for tea! Light the stove! Pile the coals high! She will roast well I have no doubt, for she is sweet of breath and spit!"

An old woman looked up from a seat by the fire and grinned a huge crooked grin.

"You have done well, my son, and will be rewarded," she said, her voice thin and wavering with age. "And as a reward I will let you shag me once our bellies are full and the lights are out!"

The girl turned, horror on her face, and tried to ask what was being said and what was going on, but the door was shut behind her and she didn't have the time on this lovely shining smiling Earth for even a single questioning syllable.

©Peter Rogerson 25.10.07

Author's Note

There's only one word in this that might have driven me to flagging it for a mature audience, but I thought "one word? What is the world coming to?" and didn't.

Reviews

[Misphit]

How refreshing to read a story that reminds me of an adult version of the classic Hansel & Gretel with a pinch of The Crying game and a dash of Wild Bill. You not only lure the characters into the depths of the black night but your audience as well. I love the ending and how twisted your mind breeds with your dark satire...giving birth to my all time favorite genre, horror. It was also an exceptional story because you tell it from the perspective of an older, wiser and experienced gentleman. It takes a lifetime to perfect a recipe..and you, Sir, have mastered your craft thus far. Bravo my sweet !!

[Peter Rogerson]

It's nice to be called "my sweet" by a young beauty like yourself! But I have long enjoyed twisting my tales and layering them with dark intents. Thanks for your highly intelligently-written review.