If You Go Into The Woods

IF YOU DO

It is a beautiful late afternoon as you open the front gate and step out onto the path. Birdsong fills the air and you can feel the warmth of the golden sun that hangs in an azure sky embracing your shoulders and neck. Flowers grow about your feet, nestling at the side of the path marking the route onwards, a colourful guide so that you can readily view the way ahead. You adjust the basket that hangs in the crook of your arm, a basket that is stuffed with delicious fayre, forbidden fruits and other enticing goodies that are meant for another. You smile and begin walking, a spring in your step as you hear a voice call out from behind you,

“Stay on the path, do not stray from the path.”

You smile again at this warning. You know all about not straying from the path, it is all you have been told for some time. The warnings and the cautionary tales about what happens when you stray from the path began as frightening tales told before bed time but their foreboding content has lessened as you have blossomed. You still smiled politely as older heads than yours warned you about what lay in the forest beyond the path, of waiting predators that are red of tooth and claw. These once dreaded fables are no more than an opportunity for you to curry favour as you kneel next to the wise one and listen, showing attentiveness, but your mind has drifted elsewhere. Your thoughts dwell on whether those supposed savages do exist deep within the darkness of the forest or whether they are just lost souls, poor fellows abandoned by the world who lurk amidst the shadows of tree and bush, not because they seek to do harm but because they have been shunned and know no other way of behaving. You contemplate whether if they were shown love, caring and affection that these wild folk might just be welcomed back and then be able to prove they are not the threat that they are always held out to be.

The tales from those older and more experienced had less of an effect on your reasoning and this soon gave way to listening to the stories from your peers. One of your friends swore she saw one of these supposed savages watching her from a hillock within the forest. She spoke of how he watched her intently with the most mesmerising and piercing eyes which made her feel wanted but in a good way. You all giggled as she recounted this tale, a flush of desire making its way up her chest and neck. Another of your group recollected of how she also saw one of these apparent beasts. He was gathering firewood and she stopped to watch his lithe and frankly alluring figure as he stooped amongst the foliage, gathering logs. She smiled as she told how he turned and caught her watching, but she felt no alarm as he too fixed her with a most penetrating look and then slowly ran his tongue across his lower lip. Your friend places her hand to her mouth and confesses to ‘that’ warm feeling down below as he continued to regard her. You admit you felt a pang of jealousy as the gathering desires of womanhood began to flow through your blossoming body and you longed for your own encounter with one of these mysterious forest dwellers.

You skip along the meandering path as you recall these stories and others, wondering how much is truth and how much is just the product of an over-active imagination. You like to think it is the former and with that in mind you chose your best dress and stole a little of your elder sister’s make-up, carefully applying the blood red concoction of beeswax and crushed bright red berries to your lips as you formed a cupid’s bow wondering if he too waited amongst the trees ready to fire one of his love arrows through your heart. You shrugged off the disapproving look from your father as you explained your appearance was such to look your best for your grandmother. The small smile that your mother gave you as she handed you the laden basket told you she knew otherwise.

Some time into your journey through the forest the flowers become less as the amount of light which percolates through the canopy above becomes reduced. The trees are numerous, stretching up high into the sky and occasionally you stop and look up towards the tree tops, feeling dizzy as you do so. A breeze gathers and the trees sway a little as the eddies of wind disturb the bushes that grow besides the path. You can still see the way ahead but it is not as a pretty now, but you are not concerned, you have walked this path so many times before. Admittedly, that was with your parents or later with your elder sister and now this is the first time you have been allowed to venture out into the vast forest yourself, hence the warnings to stay on the path.

You scurry along, almost tripping on a long thorny vine which has grown across the path. The route through the forest is less distinct now, the moss and wild grass obscuring it in places, the bushes encroaching on to it but you press on regardless. You feel the first splash of rain land on your nose and then another. You halt and set the basket down so you can lift your hood about your head and keep your carefully pinned hair dry. You stoop and collect the basket once again, moving neatly and efficiently in the manner that you have been taught, bending at the knees and straightening carefully. You are about to continue your walk when you hear a noise, a strange guttural sound which seems to come from nowhere and everywhere. You cock your head but do not hear it again as you step forward and resume your journey.

The noise comes again and you spin around before letting out a gasp. There is a man stood right behind you on the path, tall and handsome and your surprise immediately gives way to round-eyed admiration at this elegantly dressed stranger clad in emerald green. He lifts his hat and gives an exaggerated bow. His gaze returns to you, a pair of dark, dark eyes which seem to bore right into you but you can help but stare at the glinting and mesmerising pupils.

“Good day young lady,” he says with a deep and rich voice which makes you feel strange inside but in a good way, “what are you doing alone in the forest on the cusp of evening?”

“I am going for a walk, to my grand mother’s house,” you answer firmly and stand as tall as you can.

“Alone?” he asks again.

“Yes. What of it?” you ask as those glittering eyes dart left and right.

“Oh nothing save that a young lady so pretty as you should not be left unaccompanied.”

“I know the way,” you answer.

“Perhaps you do but the way knows you better,” he answers and smiles showing a toothy grin.

“My what a lot of teeth you have,” you cannot help but remark.

“Yes, all the better to eat the beasts of the forest with,” he answers.

“You eat the animals in the forest?”

“Of course, how else am I to survive, anything that comes through this forest belongs to us.”

“Us? There are more of you?”

“Indeed, this forest is ours, it is our hunting ground.”

“So the stories are true then,” you declare in a tone that is a mixture of wariness and delight.

“Very true.”

“So where did you spring from, how did you know I was here?” you ask as your eyes never leave this handsome and beguiling stranger.

“Oh nearby, but it was not difficult to miss you,” he says and reaches out a hand to touch your blood red and vibrantly coloured cloak.

“This made you stand out from everything else,” he adds.

“My grandmother made it, she told me she chose red because it is the colour of danger, a warning if you will,” you reply.

“So it is and such an attractive shade of red if I may say so, so recognisable and obvious.”

“Recognisable as what?” you ask.

“Oh that does not matter,” he says quickly, “may I escort you ? I know a short cut to your grandmother’s house, just through here,” He proffers his arm as he points through the trees. You peer into the gloom and then look back at him. You pause for a moment but that gaze of his, those eyes which seem to promise so much of that which you want to experience draw you in and you have to, you want to obey.

“Of course, that is most kind of you, ” you say politely. He nods and he stands by your side as you begin to walk. You look ahead and fail to see the red glow around those dark eyes and the especially long tongue which has slid from his mouth and run across the top of all those now sharp, white teeth. He begins to talk as he steers you towards the trees and off the beaten path…..

 

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23 Comments

  1. HG

    Late post but went for an impromptu trail run and this blog literally popped in my head. I couldn’t help but laugh.

    My thought now: if you are going to run off the beaten path best to armed.

    Needless to say I felt quite safe.

  2. Dear Mr Tudor,
    My step dad had pictures of Wolves hanging in his bedroom …. they’re still there) …. creepy n weird as their eyes follow you …. brrrrr
    Excellent excellent story (ever thought of branching out … kiddy tales, fiction… ) not just narc stuff
    Thank you
    Luv Bubblesxx

  3. I’m feeling a bit turned on by this story.
    Just as well I have lots more appointments with my psychologist booked in.
    This is going to take a while (sigh).

  4. HG, part of the reason I find being dubbed so devastating, is I thought I found someone who liked me for me.

    Do narcs ever put themselves in the shoes of those they hurt? If you woke up one day and found out the person you spent so much time with with was lying to you and being intimate with other people, how would it feel?

    How would it feel to know that no one in the world genuinely cared for you? If it was all just a construct?

      1. It is kind of like when you are in the 3rd grade and someone comes along and says “X person really likes you”. And then you find out later it was a big joke. Only now it happens as an adult.

        It’s one of the worst feelings. To have someone pretend to like you only to find out they did it to hurt you.

    1. Hi Valkyrie! They already are extremely fragile and can perceive things that others would let roll off as a paramount criticism. For example, not complimenting them with enough enthusiasm on a project they worked on or their appearance with a new outfit. It could be you don’t feel well and can listen to them recount their day. They get wounded very easily, paint you black and look at you as a traitor. You can’t even get to the point of serious offenses like lying and cheating with them. lol

      1. Hi Clarece! Thank you for the help. I have read your posts and I appreciate your insight ❤.

        So basically it’s like someone complaining about a small cut he got while you were clipping his nails, while he has taken a chainsaw and removed your limb.

    2. Hi Valkerie,
      You described it well, that feeling of being duped. The sudden slap in the face at the point of realisation. We have no protection against that sort of behaviour as children. The internal pain is searing and humiliating. As adults we recognise it as ‘the Judas Kiss’. It hurts just as much.

  5. Great comparison HG. I have always found this tale parallel to interacting with a narcissistic personality. People often forget the part in the story about the wolf being charming.

    I also find the tale of the spider and the fly apropos. The spider excessively flatters the fly.

  6. Oh, no – he’s trying a Golden Period now. Love songs. He told me it’s not about what i want and that i can never have things my way—but he doesn’t want to see me to have sex, just to see me. I wasn’t expecting this.

    1. HG says stay on the path. /iroll pls don’t fall for it. I’ve been where you are with my ex. I loved him, but narcs cannot love. I went to his place becuz he said he had the money he owed me. He was faking. Again. He didn’t have my money, he raped me instead. Yet still I fantasize about him. Then my logical thinking is slowly, very slowly is improving and I remember the truth. Write down all the rotten things he did to you. All the deceit.
      Ironically, HG is one of the few people I’ve ever really taken advice from. I always thought I was in control. Until I wasn’t over and over again.
      He knows you wouldn’t expect it.
      Xo

      1. Pixie,
        I’m so sorry to hear about your experience. Mine is similar, I’d escaped him four months prior, he said on the phone “I did everything to make you feel safe and trust me”. He asked me to his house that evening “we’ll sit, we’ll have coffee, we’ll talk”. So I went. He made me an instant coffee, then he raped me. I was lured there, and was there absolutely under false pretenses.
        Thank you for sharing. How long ago did you suffer that experience? How are you now?

    2. Dearest /iroll,
      I noticed this weeks special on “confidence” in aisle 6 at the supermarket …. get in fast, before they sell out

      “I just want to see you” …. what a load of crap
      (he WAS seeing you when he treated you badly)

      What was that story Mr Tudor wrote about hoovering you at your house for a chat only ….. then worming his way in and you end up having sex and him staying the night, you make him breakfast …… and then he’s gone ….. AGAIN (and you’re left 😮)

      Tell this douche bag to …… “rack off hairy legs”

      You can do this /iroll
      Luv Bubbles xx

      1. Hi Bubbles,
        I just want to tell you that you are a darling.
        I so enjoy ‘The Tales of Mr and Mrs Bubbles’, and want to hear more.
        I hope that you and Mr B are well.

    3. Hi /iroll,
      this sounds like a strange new ploy from your ex-N.
      I was reading some of the previous posts, and found the one where you wrote that he said he was the master, you the slave and he wanted you in a cage (or words to that effect).
      I suddenly remembered while with my ex-N, I had a dream: I saw him sitting at a cafe table, phone in his hand; where was I?; my eyes panned down the chair he was sitting on, and there beneath him was I, on all fours, in a small cage. There was a tube from me in the cage to him. I didn’t understand what it meant until after he raped me, and I arrived @narcsite.
      I also had a dream where he was stuck on an ice shelf down a cravasse in Antarctica. Icey and bleak, devoid of human connection. I felt such excruciating emotional pain in my gut, I started crying, and it woke me up. I think that was an insight into his bleak internal landscape, but again I didn’t understand it’s meaning, until after.

      1. Dear “sweet Caroline”… 🎼🎼🎼
        (Sorry … I couldn’t help myself … I luv that song) …. and you are … a sweetie
        Awe …. thank you …. what an angel
        I wasn’t sure that many people here were interested in my simple tales
        I just hope one person here can perhaps have a “lightbulb” moment on a smidgen of what I relate so they avert destruction from these camouflaged nasties

        Mr Bubbles and I are “absolutely “fabulous” … darling 🤣
        Thank you for asking (our life is never dull that’s for sure) hahahahaha
        You’re beautiful
        Luv Bubbles xx

  7. What lush choice of words, picturesque and dripping with detail. I want to say something vaguely useful, but I’ve got nothing else.

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