The Trees: the obligatory Halloween story

 my head was still somewhat in Poland

The Trees

 

Jan and Józef Komornik grew up in their father’s cottage, as a bailiff and forestry manager in the woodlands of a manor called Dąbrów.  They sometimes asked, when young, “why is our cottage built of stone, when many people have cottages of logs?” and their father replied, “Because the trees in this old part of the forest wouldn’t like it.”

When their father died, Jan took on the post, but his brother Józef wanted more.

“I want to go to the city and make a name for myself, and get more education,” said Józef.

And he did.

Jan was proud of his brother, who wore designer suits, and drove a sports car, and became a property developer.

Then one October, Józef wrote,

Dear Janko,

I have bought some of that old tangled woodland which you had to agree not to manage or fell trees in; it’s wasted land now there are no longer noble hunting parties. I plan to fell it all and build a shopping centre with a small clinic and veterinarian clinic and a better school, which as well as being profitable for me will give back something to the community which raised me.

Your loving brother,

Józio.

It sounded a good idea, and Jan wondered why he felt disturbed about the whole idea.

 

Józef turned up, very dapper in a silver grey silk and linen suit, impeccable tie and hand-made shoes.

“You have a paunch,” said Jan.

Józef laughed.

“And you’re skinny,” he said. “It’s the result of working lunches; I’m hoping that with this deal I’ll make enough to have a few hours to myself and spend some time in the gym.”

Jan smiled.  He spent his hours working in the forest and did not need a gym.

Józef was directing surveyors, who were marking which trees to take down; Józef thought that a few groves left would be pleasant, and a park as well.  The leaves had almost gone from the trees, and they stood, stark and skeletal, gloomy and unprepossessing, but Józef was confident that springtime would bring them back to beauty, if sufficiently well managed.  Some were just too ugly to keep.

“Look at this tree, two scars up high on the trunk, a broken branch and hollow below; almost like a malevolent face,” Józef joked.

“I wouldn’t make fun of things like that if I was you,” said Jan, uncomfortably.

“Well if it has a hollow it’s likely to be rotten, so it will have to go, even without an ugly face scaring people,” said Józef. He marked an X on the trunk.

Jan shuddered.

“I wonder if this is a good idea after all ...” he mused.

“You had your head filled with folk tales,” scoffed Józef. “Though I wish Pa was still here to tell them. I have to go into town, but shall I come back to keep you company for the All Saints’ vigil?”

“That would be good,” said Jan. “Try to get here before dark. Some of the old beliefs ...from when it was a Pagan feast ...”

“I’m not superstitious,” said Józef.

 

 

Some hours later, Józef was driving his open-topped classic sports car through the woods that led to his brother’s cottage, and was beginning to wonder how superstitious he was.  The trees seemed to be leaning towards him, and he felt distinctly uneasy. There was a soughing through the branches which sounded almost like a growl ... and there had been no wind to make such a noise before he entered the woodlands.  And yet, the branches thrashed as if in a gale.  He looked in the wing mirror. It was too easy to imagine faces ... no, he had imagined a tree flowing out from the side of the road into the middle of where he had just driven, it was an optical illusion.

Nevertheless, he drove a little faster, and kept glancing behind.

It was not long before he started to realise that the trees were following him.

Józef was a good driver, fortunately, or he might have crashed; as it was, he arrived at his destination at breakneck speed and turned the car in a handbrake turn to face the headlights towards the forest.

He leaped out of the car without killing the engine or lights.

“Jan! Jan! A can of petrol!” he screamed.

Jan came out.

“Mother of God!” he exclaimed, crossing himself. “I ... I don’t have trees this side of the fence ...”

The trees were, very slowly, oozing towards the brothers, those roots which were partly exposed rippling as if they were using their roots like the legs of centipedes. They shied from the light of the headlamps, but at the edges the trees came on.

“Petrol!” shouted Józef again.

“I don’t have any; have you none in the boot?” asked Jan, who had modernised to a hand-cranked generator for emergencies, and who had battery powered LED lamps for everything else.

Józef gasped, remembering the can in the boot, which he rapidly unlocked.

And the trees came on.

Józef stuffed a rag into the can as he opened it, and quickly clicked his cigarette lighter to light the rag. There was an angry susurration in the bare branches.

And the trees came on.

He was about to throw the can when branches reached down and it was wrest from his grasp and tossed negligently into his car.

The resultant explosion threw Józef into the trees. Jan gasped as he was ... swallowed whole.

Jan crossed himself and prayed.

The insubstantial figure of their father appeared beside him, and strode forward.

“No!” said the apparition. “My sons are as two wings to a maple seed; one has grown free in this rich soil, the other has been confined and grew stunted, but he is not rotten in his core. Let him know your feelings, but let him go!”

The susurration of the trees was an angry whine.

“Let my brother go!” demanded Jan, finding his courage.  “Or I will take a terrible revenge when you are dormant in mid winter!”

His father turned.

“It won’t be necessary, son,” he said. “But they will tell Józef a few things. Keep vigil; I love you both. They will return him with the dawn.”

“Oh, Pa!”  Jan was sobbing.

His father smiled, and faded from sight.

 

Just before dawn, there was a creaking noise, and the split in one of the ancient trees opened, and Józef stumbled out.  His natty suit hung off him; he had lost all his extra weight, and his hair stood on end.

And the trees receded. 

Józef fell at his brother’s feet in a dead faint.

 

Later Józef was able to talk to Jan about his ordeal.

“They .... Pa was able to persuade them to come to a compromise with me,” he whispered. “I am to build in natural clearings and may take some younger trees, and I must move back here to help you conserve the wildwoods. I ... it was terrible, Janko! But ... but Pa made them let me go.”

“We will light a candle for your safety,” said Jan. “But you can realise some of your plans?”

“Yes, providing I respect the trees,” said Józef. “Now I understand why we have a stone cottage in a natural clearing. How fortunate it was that it was All Hallows, and Pa was able to come in response to our prayers for aid. We will light many candles on his grave.” 

"And one to the Mother of God to whom I prayed; the biggest I can afford," said Jan.

Józef nodded emphatically.

Jan did not mention that it was a time sacred too to the old ways, when such supernatural things best left sleeping might be awakened with enough provocation.

Some things were best left ... unspoken.