The Foxglove’s Request

     Cyrus walked further into the forest, his hand around the girl’s waist. She was huddled next to him, her breathing off. He hadn’t meant to take her out for so long. He simply wanted to take Clementine out to a flower field he saw once during his daily walk— a geranium field, she told him upon seeing it. The excursion was a gift for their recent marriage; but of course, it was just like him to try and do something nice and have it fail. 
     The forest around them grew denser, more constricting with every step. The sky above was continuously losing its light, plunging them further into darkness. Worse, it seemed like tonight would be a new moon; there would be no light to follow tonight. He was reminded of the sailor in a book he had read once, alone on the sea with no lighthouse to guide him home. He had ended up stranded, resorting to any means necessary to survive. Cyrus was not happy with this comparison; he didn’t want to think of himself as that sailor, desperate for even the slightest chance at survival. He decided he would think of the book no longer. Speeding up a bit, he led Clementine deeper on their dark path into the unknown. Of course, he had to pretend he knew what he was doing lest he scare her even more. As far as Clementine knew, it was all part of the plan. 
     “Cyrus,” she spoke. “How far are we?” 
     Cyrus looked forward into the trees, squinting his eyes as he did so — a truly futile gesture in the black of night. All he could see was trees and grass, maybe a rock in the distance. He didn’t know how far they were from their home back in the village. To begin with, he didn’t even know where they were. Every shape seemed to blend together like the muddy shades on the palettes of those naturalist painters whose landscapes hung on the walls back home. Cyrus knew this forest— he loved it. He had wandered aimlessly in the greens and browns of these lands many times before; and yet, it seemed the trees had lost all familiarity. He had no way of discerning the soft, dancing ferns that grew near the ground, or the soft-colored mushrooms and the sweet berries that popped up near the base of tall, grand trees. The forest was a stranger, cruel and cloaked in darkness. He felt himself grip Clementine closer. 
     “It shouldn’t be far now,” he lied. “Don’t worry, you’ll be safe in bed soon enough.” They continued walking. 
     After an eternity of continuing down that same path with no end in sight, the scenery began to change. It was a slight change. Nobody but someone truly enamored with the forest would have noticed. Cyrus immediately caught on to it: the trees had grown sparser, there was more sign of animal life. They were coming up on a clearing, he guessed. A few minutes later, he was proven correct. 
     Clementine’s eyes seemed to brighten when she saw the sudden space in front of her. She detached herself from her husband’s side and walked into the clearing. 
     “This means we’re almost home, right? The landscape’s started to change,” she said, looking at the field around them. It was covered in wildflowers, the grass long and untouched. There were a few trees, but they were so small and so sparse they seemed to be completely alien to those behind them. These trees were kinder, they were their friends in the fight against the darkness that surrounded them. Cyrus was elated at the sight of such trees. Perhaps, his beloved forest hadn’t become completely villainous. 
     “Yes,” he said, placing his hands in his pockets. “I’m sure of it.” 
     Seemingly calmed down, Clementine smiled and sat down in the center of the field, touching the grass around her. 
     “I don’t like the fact it’s dark, but it’s beautiful out here. It’d be nice to come here again someday. You could bring one of those books you like, the ones with the adventurers. I could draw a bit.”
     Cyrus had no idea what to tell her. He felt more lost here than he had before, kind trees or not. He had never come across a place like this in his many times within the forest. He was once again reminded of the fact he was completely lost. Even if he did find his way out, he didn’t think he would ever be able to find this clearing again. He was about to tell Clementine that perhaps it would be better to draw in the comfort of their garden when she spoke. 
     “Look!” she said, gesturing to a patch of small, yellow flowers in the grass. “Cowslips!” She sat down and began crawling towards the flowers. She ripped a stem from the ground, dirt falling onto her lap. Holding it between her two fingers she inspected it: the stem was connected to a group of small yellow flowers all bundled together. Some of the flowers were completely open, their petals stretched out for the absent sun. Others looked like little yellow bells, their bulbs facing the grass below. 
     “They say that the bell-shaped ones are where fairies sleep and keep their treasure. When I was little I used to find a lot of them in my backyard, but I haven’t seen many since. My mother would get mad at me every spring because I would always ruin my dress picking them. She’d have to work for hours to remove the dirt stains. Sometimes, I dirtied them so badly she’d have no choice but to throw them out. It was nice, though, running around.” 
     Setting the flower down, Clementine stood up and dusted away the dirt that had collected on her dress. Cyrus looked at her: it was clear just by her appearance how their adventure was affecting her. Her dark brown hair — which had looked so nice this morning, falling across her shoulders in a way that seemed so effortless — had become knotted and frizzy. Her face — a face that was normally quite a nice one, in Cyrus’ opinion — looked terribly exhausted. Her pale skin had lost all its vibrancy; it looked as though she had been covered in a grey sheen, all her life and energy imprisoned underneath layers of fatigue. The dress she had chosen specifically for their outing was completely ruined. The pretty lace hemming that had once looked like thousands of little white flowers was so torn it fell limply to the floor, resembling nothing more than a random assortment of strings stained brown by the earth. The fabric of the dress was no better: the light blue cotton was so stained and torn, so covered in leaves and flora, it was almost impossible to believe it had looked so beautiful just hours before. 
     Cyrus knew he looked no better. He could feel the dirt cracking on his cheek, the way his brown curls lay limp and wet against his forehead. He was certain he stumbled into something by the bright red rash on his arm, its itching worsening, steadily with time. He had various cuts down his arms, no doubt the fault of the cruel trees that were so dedicated to making their night horrible. His feet had been aching for the past two hours and his clothes were just as dirtied and tattered as Clementine’s. Cyrus, for the first time in his life, wanted nothing more than to leave the forest behind and go home. He felt horrible for putting her through this. He could ignore his own suffering, but knowing he brought someone else along with him — his wife, who he knew was so petrified of darkness and wilderness that she clung onto him the second the sun went down, even if they were home — was hellish.
     “Clem, darling, are you feeling alright?” 
     “Yes,” she replied, though she wasn’t very convincing.      
     “We’re almost home anyway, right?” “Oh. Right.” 
     He looked around. He loathed lying to her, but it would be worse if he told her the truth this far in. He only had one choice: he had to find a way out. 
     The forest around the clearing blended together. It no longer looked like a safe haven, it was a prison, surrounded by impenetrable bars of greens and browns. He looked around some more: there was a pile of rocks to his left and a fallen tree to his right. In front of him lay a small creek. It was calm, the water flowing softly down its pebbled path. Next to the creek, he saw it: a flower, thrown to the ground. It was strange, the flower was completely alone. It looked like no flower he had seen on their way — honestly, he didn’t think he had ever seen a flower like this one. It was tall, tens of droopy, bell-shaped purple flowers hugging their stem close. Excusing himself, he walked towards it. Clementine would know what it was, or, at the very least, she’d be happy to see it. 
    Grabbing the flower, he walked back to where his wife was waiting for him. 
    “I found this up by the creek. I have no idea what it is, but I thought you might. If not, take it as my second gift to you tonight. Only this won’t go as wrong as my first did.” 
     “It’s beautiful,” she said, taking it from his hands. “It’s a foxglove, I believe. I recall seeing it in one of my father’s medicinal herb journals when I was younger. If I remember right, they’re also believed to be the homes of fairies. It’s odd for it to be all alone, however. You’d normally find it in groups. Here, take a look at the leaves.” 
     He grabbed the flower and took a look. The leaves looked just like that of any other flower to him, green and slightly triangular. However, he was not foolish enough to think that he would know more about a flower than Clementine. Surely, there was something interesting about it that he was missing. 
     “The plant is poisonous, the leaves especially so. But in medicine they’re incredible. They can cure heart disease so easily — it’s wonderful,” she explained. 
     Just touching it is poisonous, in truth. Perhaps she left that part out. It’s amusing, isn’t it? I’ve already hurt you and we haven’t even been introduced! 
     Cyrus looked up. He was sure he had heard something, but the voice was unrecognizable. Worse, it felt… off. He could hear it, but not in the way he heard Clementine in front of him. It was different somehow. Something wasn’t right. Everything around him seemed to blur together. He could vaguely hear Clementine go on about medicine in front of him, but he couldn’t make out a single word. His heart drummed on and on, seemingly trying to escape from its restraints inside himself. Something was wrong, he was sure of it. 
     Are you afraid? Already? But my friend! We have yet to even meet! 
     “Where are you?” 
     He looked around, but he saw nothing of note around them. It was just the two of them, as it had been since they first left on their trip. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that the voice belonged to someone. He just couldn’t see them. He grew even more panicked. 
     “I haven’t left, Cyrus. Were you listening? I was just talking about the poppy flower and how… Cyrus, are you alright? You’ve gone pale.” 
     “I’m feeling fine.” 
     “Are you sure?” She rested a hand on his left cheek, her eyes worried as she looked him up and down. 
     “Let’s get going.”
     He quickly pulled her to his side once again, walking back towards where they came. It didn’t matter that he still didn’t know where they were, he’d figure that out later. Right now, he just wanted to leave.
     You’re leaving already? But you don’t have anywhere to go! There’s a reason you haven’t found your way out. I’m the only one who’d be able to help you leave, but instead, you want to try and run from me. If you leave now, your path will lead right back to me, I promise. I fear I’d be quite irritated if you
made me do that, however. It’s taxing work, controlling the forest. And a guest shouldn’t leave their host in such a way, anyway! Oh, how nineteenth-century thought is a curse! The ways of civilized society have truly lost themselves. Despite your insolence, I’ll still be a good host. I’ll leave my flower immediately— I have yet to greet you in person! Oh, I’m so excited. 
     Cyrus didn’t want to go through with this planned greeting, but the only other choice he had was to run. As strange as it seemed, he was certain that the voice was not lying about the forest. He knew there was something wrong. He had become well acquainted with this forest over the years, and he was sure that nothing that had occurred that day was normal. The explanation that it was the fault of this strange, malevolent voice was as good as any. 
     He felt the flower in his hand move. Looking down, he saw it: a humanoid shape, no taller than his thumb, leaving one of the bulbs. It was horrifying. Its skin was pure white, its limbs so long and thin Cyrus was reminded of a skeleton. Its hands were much too big for its body, with long, slender fingers that looked suspiciously like claws. Its face was equally disturbing: long pointy ears, black eyes that looked as though someone had cut two vertical slits in its face, paired with an uncomfortable grin that was far too wide. Behind it, thin translucent wings fluttered. 
     Cyrus couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. He noticed that Clementine was no longer beside him, but he had no way of looking for her. He was paralyzed, staring at the creature that had emerged from the flower and now stood on his palm.
“Now I can speak normally again — how great! Ah! It’s so incredible to finally meet my guest! I don’t get to socialize often. Every one of my own kind is so vapid, so dull. I’ve always known I was above them all, though they don’t take to me kindly because of this. So I just stay here all day in my flower. Alone. Oh, how my life has been a tale of nothing but woe! Though now I’m not alone!
     All thanks to you, of course.” The creature patted his palm. “Now, shall we introduce ourselves?” “Where did my wife go?” 
     “Tut-tut!” It shook his head, looking extremely disappointed with his response. “That wasn’t an introduction. Let’s try again: give me your-” 
     “I’m serious.”
     The creature sighed and looked up at him. “I’ve done nothing bad to her if that’s what you’re fretting about. I’m not interested in her — I spoke to you for a reason. I just sent her to the creek for a bit-”
     Cyrus considered how easy it would be to crush this being between his two hands. “Oh my, you aren’t too happy with me for that one… don’t worry. She’s just going to stand there until I call her back. She won’t even remember it! As I said, I’m not interested in her. I just want to have a conversation with you,” it said. “So, now, about our introductions…” 
     “I’m not introducing myself. Just show me the way out and we’ll be on our way.”
     “Nonsense! What host would I be— what guest would you be— if we parted ways without so much as an introduction. It’s a simple request, really. It would be such a shame if you were forced to stay here for years, all because you refused to introduce yourself. Think about it: you, stuck here with no food to eat, no place to sleep… you would go mad! You might even turn on that girl over there— oh, the horrors that could occur! All because you didn’t want to introduce yourself.”
     Cyrus was growing angrier every second he had to deal with this creature. He had to restrain himself from doing anything brash, the threat of not being able to leave the clearing weighing heavy on his mind. He had no guarantee that everything would be back to normal with the creature out of the picture. He had only two choices: give in or wait here, standing about idly in hopes that the creature would give up eventually.
     He looked towards the creek where Clementine stood, a completely blank expression on her face. True to the creature’s word, she was just standing there. It didn’t look right at all. That was his wife of not even a week. The only woman on the planet who understood him, who would listen intently as he rambled about trees and dirt. The woman who knew everything there was to know about flowers, who saw no problem getting herself dirty if it meant experiencing the natural beauty of the world. He remembered when he had first decided to marry her: it had been years of him sneaking around to visit her, constantly terrified of being caught by her father. He had never spoken to the man, but just seeing him was enough to make his heart race. His decision meant having to ask him for his permission, something that seemed to be a fate worse than death. He spent many sleepless nights debating it, thinking through every option. He thought that he could go on just seeing her in secret forever. If he did that, there’d be no need to ask her father anything. But the next night when he saw her waiting for him outside like she always did, a smile on her face and a tulip in hand, he realized how foolish he had been to even consider not marrying her. The next day, he knocked on their door for the first time, one major question in mind. 
     He realized that he had to do whatever it took to leave, at least for her. And if that meant giving in to this creature’s demands, it was just the way it had to go. 
     “Cyrus. Cyrus Camden.”
     “Thank you for giving me your name.”
     The creature began to change then. Its pure white skin became darker, a more human shade. Its limbs started shrinking and growing wider. Its claws grew into nails, its hands shrinking. Its wings disappeared as its body grew in size, quickly reaching the same height as Cyrus himself. It started
growing hair: brown curls that never quite sat right. Just like his. Cyrus was staring at a copy of himself. 
     “This is wonderful! But we can’t have two of us running around now, can we? What can I do about you?” The copy of himself seemed to be lost in thought, looking him up and down.      “I have just the thing! I’ve always thought this place needed some more flowers!” The copy of himself smiled at him, raising a single finger to his temple. “You are now a… geranium!” 
     Cyrus felt the way his body shrunk, his body losing itself. He wanted to scream. Cry. Fight back. Nothing came out. He could do nothing but fall to the ground, his fate inevitable. “Poor little geranium,” the copy of himself bent down in front of him, stroking one of his newly formed leaves. “Did nobody warn you that it wasn’t wise to give a fairy your name?” The fairy stood up and clicked his finger, a pleased smile on his face. Clementine came running behind him, immediately latching onto him. 
     “Cyrus! Why would you leave me over there? I was by the creek all alone. We’re going home soon, right? I don’t think I can stay here any longer.” 
     “Of course we are, darling. I’m getting tired of being here as well.”
     Clementine turned to look at him one last time, a soft smile forming when she saw his bright red petals and pretty green leaves. 
     “Cyrus, did you remember a geranium being over there? What an odd place for it to be.” “It’s the first time I’ve seen it. How strange.”
     With that, she walked alongside the fairy down a quiet path that had suddenly appeared in the forest. Down the path, Cyrus could see the distant shape of his house and garden. The same house where he planned to spend the rest of his life. Where he planned to grow old and die, Clementine beside him. Now, all he could do was watch an impostor walk in its direction, his arm around her.

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