Season's Creepings by Ronald Kelly

Author:Ronald Kelly [Kelly, Ronald]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: horror, short stories
Publisher: Crossroad Press
Published: 2020-11-22T00:00:00+00:00

Then Came a Woodsman

The woodsman’s axe cut deep.

Up and over his shoulder, in broad, heavy strokes, it whistled through the crisp winter air. It struck again and again, its head gleaming like pure silver. It would have taken an ordinary man several dozen blows to have chopped down such a tree. But the woodsman, with his skill and strength, dropped the mighty oak with only eight.

With a splintering crack, the trunk gave way and it came crashing earthward into deep drifts of virgin snow. He heard a grumble from the neighboring trees, but ignored them. Standing abreast of the oak, he finished the job, cleaving away branches for kindling, then separating the trunk into quarters.

When he was finished, he rested. He set his axe aside and sat with his back to a large boulder. He was not exhausted, not even the least bit tired…such was his nature. But he rested nonetheless, before continuing to the next stand of trees.

As he sat there, he listened to the sounds of the forest. Cardinals sang in the barren treetops, while a black crow cawed boldly from a thicket of holly near the road. They rang like a symphony in his ears, but he derived no enjoyment from it. He felt little pleasure from such simple things, or even the fact that it was Christmas once again…although he once had with much anticipation and delight.

The crunch of footsteps came from the direction of the snowy pathway that wound through the deep forest. They were light and carefree, skipping along happily. He turned his head to see a young girl dressed in a red cloak and hood. She toted a wicker basket of Christmas goodies in the crook of one arm. From the depths of the basket he could smell the pleasant aroma of spiced wassail, freshly-baked tea cakes, and gooseberry jam. The woodsman’s stomach was empty, yet he felt no hunger.

He considered calling out to her, perhaps even to wish her Season’s Greetings, but refrained from doing so. He didn’t want to frighten the child.

Then she was gone on her merry way. The woodsman sat there, remembering a similar child—also a girl—from another time and place. It pained him to think of her, as well as the others. Soon, his thoughts grew heavy, much heavier than the axe he had wielded all morning, and, despite the December chill, he soon fell into a light, yet troubled, slumber.

He had once been a happy man—a man of the forest who seemed to be a very part it, both in body and soul. He was thoroughly in tune with nature. Since his boyhood, he had roamed the dense woods, had known every pine grove and canebrake, every rabbit hole and beehive. As a young lad it wasn’t uncommon to find him running with the deer, swimming with the fish in the lake north of the big bright city, or wrestling with snakes in the green moss beds.

Later, as a man who had taken on the apprenticeship of a woodcutter, his family made his life even more complete.

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