I saw her through the branches of the freshly-felled tree, down by the stream where the air was cool. She was stepping barefooted, surefooted, over green moss-clad rocks that matched the colour of her naked skin. Her appearance should have frightened me, but I was more surprised than anything else.
She was a creature out of myth. She wasn’t a part of this modern time, and yet her confident motions and the way the woodland seemed to accommodate her, shelter her even, suggested she belonged there much more than I.
I remember reading stories and legends as a child, so many years ago now. Long, long before I’d started working as a logger. Stories that had drawn me to nature in the first place, tales of green ladies, dryads, sylphs, wood-witches. I guess those legends had to come from somewhere, some grain of truth hidden in each one, like the sand within a pearl.
They were the fierce defenders of the forests, protectors of the green places in the world, destroyers of those who would destroy nature. And that was when the fear started. I realised I should have started running when I first saw her. By then, it was too late.
Chris is from Sheffield where he has been reading, writing and roleplaying for over 25 years. He finally got around to completing an MA in Creative Writing as it’s far more interesting than the day job.
Ha ha ha, love the ending!
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