The Wooded Way

         The old forest was an explosion of autumn colors. The air was always cool and crisp up on the mountain, and these attributes were always notably accented during that time of year.

         To Dominic, who was nearly 17, these woods were fuel for an overactive imagination. For as long as he could remember, he would run through the forest, weaving between the trees, fighting knights and dragons and demons and ghosts and ghouls with his older brother Ives. They would make up stories together and act them out in the woods all day.

         But such days had passed. The years flew by unnoticed and suddenly Dom was standing at his brother's grave wishing he had savored the moments they spent more than he had. Now the forest was a place of quiet recollection. Between the crunch of the fallen leaves from all of the years gone by he could hear the joyful noises of two boys running and swinging sticks through the air, the fabricated sound of swords slashing at defiant villians. At times he would pause and look around, seeking the origin of the seemingly close calling, "Dom!", only to discover that he was as alone as he had been for the last five years. Ives was gone. Dominic watched his casket close and followed the hearse to the cemetery. These were the facts, the scientific truths, and Dominic had to face them.

         He was DAMNED if he was going to face them.

         On Saturday, after lunch, Dominic set out to walk in the woods as he did every weekend. He no longer played in the woods, but let his imagination conjure up stories for him to write about when he got home. Since his brother's death, he wanted to be a writer. Without Ives, he had no outlet for imagination, and he thought himself too old to play in the woods. So today, he would continue working on his latest idea, "The Wooded Way", trying his best not to pay any attention to the memories the forest brought back to him.

         As he reached the edge of the trees, he stopped. He walked over to the shed where he and his brother would leave their sticks. It wasn't hard to remember which one was his; Ives had carved Dom's name in Ancient Runes into the wood. He was pretty sure he could pick out his, though Runes were not something he was familiar with. He hoped that his choice was the correct one, though, because he never dared to pick up Ives' pretend sword, out of respect.

         He picked up the stick and looked it over a few times. It had been years since he last saw it, but nothing had changed since then. It was still the faithful steel he used to strike down his evil foes. He swung it around a few times. It still had good balance (for the stick it was) and was nice and light. Dominic put his weapon in his belt loop and continued on.

         He walked between the trees, breathing in the familiar scent of autumn. He could hear the sound of his brother, the valiant hero, shouting commands and killing his foes with one swing of the sword. Dom wandered on, swimming in the memories of his childhood. Every little thing seemed to bring back a memory he wished he would never forget. He heard a rock tumble down the side of the hill and it reminded him of the time that had happened before, when he was four. He was so involved in the games they played that he was scared by the noise, thinking maybe a real monster was in the woods, coming to get them. Ives told him not to worry and bravely marched toward the rock and out of little Dominic's sight. When he came back, he told Dominic that the monster was so scared when it saw Ives coming for it that it ran off and that if Dom would stay by him, they would both be alright. This brought tears to Dominic's eyes.

         But he was tired of tears.

         Dom brushed the tears away and told himself not to cry. He hated to cry. He had done it so often since Ives had left him alone that he was sick and tired of it. So instead of crying, he let his imagination dull his sense of reality and sweep his pain away. With the power of his own world at beck and call, he wandered further into the woods. He wanted to ensure no pain would come back to him. Trying to drown his sorrows with his new-found world, he paid no attention to where he was going. Tree after tree after tree; it was all so entrancing. There was no difference to save him, nothing to wake him up. He was lost in a world of dark knights and woodland trolls, mad kings and brave villagers.

         When, at last, he did return to reality, he found himself in a place he had never seen before. Though the trees all looked eerily similar, he could feel that he was not where he intended to be. Trying to remain calm, he looked around for something familiar. He noticed an old forgotten road that was covered in grass and weeds from years of neglect. Dominic assured himself that if he followed the road, he could get back home. So, seeing that the road's end was a couple hundred yards to the right, he set off to the left, hoping that it would indeed take him home.

         The sun started to set. The woods were getting dark, and it was getting colder. Dom quickened his pace and folded his arms to keep warm. Several hours had gone by and still he saw no familiar landmark. He tried singing to himself to calm himself down. It worked! He sang louder and with more feeling as he walked briskly down the road. His worry slowly melted away. He was full of hope and joy until a strange sound cut through his song. He stopped suddenly, hope replaced with nervousness, joy replaced with fear. His heart pounded strongly and his ears became more sensitive. The stange sound came again, like another person stalking through the nearby trees. Trying to remain calm, Dominic stood as still as possible. A soft but strong and oddly familiar voice spoke in his ear...

         "Dom."

         He ran.

         He kept running for what seemed like a lifetime. He didn't want to believe what his thoughts told him. It was impossible! He couldn't be where he thought he was! He wasn't a child anymore. There had to be a logical explanation!

         He finally collapsed in a clearing. He raised his head up slowly as he painfully caught his breath. In the clearing ahead was an old camp; the end of the road. Dom got to his feet and stumbled toward the closest building, not looking back to see if he was followed. As he got closer, he studied the camp. There was a fire tower on the close edge of the camp and also an old hall. Further away were several cabins and a large pile of lumber next to a saw mill. All of the buildings surrounded a murky pond. He noticed a sign by the road that read "The Wooded Way". This struck fear into his heart. There was no logical way that it could happen.

         Dominic reached the fire tower and climbed to the top. He looked around, checking for signs of his house. There was nothing but trees for miles around. Sullenly, he sat on the floor of the tower. It was true. He tried so hard to defeat the memory of his brother, to toss away any recollection of his best friend, and this was the harsh consequence he had to pay for it. It was nobody's fault but his own. Dominic took out the stick he brought and threw it angrily out into the forest below. As he did, the voice that made him run could be heard in the distance, slowly fading...

         "Why have you forgotten? Why...? Why..."

         His eyes began to tear up once more. He remembered something on the stick that caught his eye... The Runes. He had picked up the wrong stick that morning. That was it; the final straw. He had always dared not to touch the stick that Ives would use, and here he was throwing it deep into the forest with such a powerful rage. To him, it was the same as throwing Ives out of the window with the same anger. He couldn't bare to think that he had destroyed the memory of his own brother. Dominic stood on the ledge of the tower window and threw himself angrily into the forest below...

         Much to his dismay, Dominic arose from the forest floor unscathed. Why was dying so hard for him? Why did it come so easily for Ives? Cursing his elusive fate, he beat tree after tree with his bare fists and screamed at the top of his lungs. When he was finally out of breath and his arms were tired, he sat on a rock and stared at the ground sullenly. Life never treated Dominic the way it seemed to treat others. He let his head fall into his hands and sobbed. The sheer agony of his elusive death engulfed him.

         And suddenly, a hand rested on his shoulder.

         Dominic's sobbing abruptly stopped at the surprise. He looked behind himself. There, smiling warmly, was his only brother and best friend, just standing there with a comforting hand extended.

         "C'mon, Dom. I'll help you up." Ives glanced at his outstretched hand.

         "You're... you're not... it can't..."

         "Oh, can't it? Are you telling me you can't believe? That's not the Dominic I knew." Ives chuckled and ruffled Dom's hair. "Come on. I know you know it's really me."

         It was all so unreal, yet Dominic believed every second of it. Somehow, he just knew it was his real brother standing there. He just didn't know how...

         "Alright, now come with me," his brother said, smile ever beaming. He lead Dominic out of the woods and back onto the path. "I'm so glad you're here now." They continued down the path, following the twisting paths Dominic had rushed down earlier. "I know what you're thinking, and I forgive you for running from me like that. And throwing away my stick. I got that back. Oh, and I have yours!" He handed Dom the stick. It was just as he remembered from his childhood; all of the bark was peeled off, the runes were carved into the wood... This whole experience was turning out to be a dream come true!

         The brothers finally arrived at the tiny clearing Dominic had stumbled onto earlier that day, only now there was a beautiful grassy path extending into the woods beyond. Dominic said nothing, spoke not his confusion. He just walked down the path with his ever-smiling brother.

         "You know, bro, I can't take you back. I can only take you home. And that is just what I am doing," Ives said as he turned to face Dominic. "You understand?"

         Dominic thought hard for a moment. How was it that he could not go back to his house but was going home? Home... He finally understood. Dominic slowly raised his hands to eye level and inspected his fists. Not a single drop of blood ran down his fingers; not one! It all made perfect sense! His fall from the tower, his hands... and Ives, his late brother! He looked his brother straight in the eye and said confidently, "Yes, Ives. I understand."

         The sun slowly set beyond the mountains as the two reunited brothers walked home...