Stump In The Night

Ah fresh air, countryside, and a promise of witnessing one of life’s true marvels. Nice and simple. No wizards, no flickering fires and definitely nothing bizarre lingering around by ever so slightly escaping my peripheral sight. A well-earned slice of relaxation heading my way without the faintest possibility of abnormalities to follow foot. Four days, that’s all it took for me to seek refuge from the chaotic nature of Melbourne. Tasmania, here I come.

Peering back to the distant earth amongst the cotton clouds causes my palms to dampen whilst my mind’s inner vision adds to the understanding of what’s unfolding before them. All the worlds hidden secrets expose themselves to my intruding stare while simultaneously eluding my ever-seeking grasp. A peculiar sensation blends with the ringing buzz of the planes rattling engines; a perception that I comprehend both everything and nothing in the dualled thought. To have a view from the Heaven’s yet concurrently be bound in mind to a floating, eternally twirling, piece of dirt. Whilst I fly, so too does the earth, as it has no stand to rest on; drifting as aimlessly as I in this existence dubbed life. Ooo, pretzels. The airhostess breaks my chain of entrenching thought. “Coke sir?” She asks. I am flattered, ‘Sir,’ and I haven’t even been knighted yet. “No, thank you, madam.” I return the respectful title. Her face falls at my response; I suppose those of the female species do not appreciate such dubbings. Oh well, strangers come, strangers go but dreams, dreams live on forever in the hearts of those who’ll pursue their illustrious charms. My eyes are drawn back to the clouds as I heartily sigh, “Ah, dreams.” What world awaits me in this mesmerising land? What cryptic codes are stored within those tantalising clouds? Far above me, glisten the stars, out of man’s capricious reach yet where their arms cannot reach their eyes can. Well, at least they could until my natural window blinds began to shut; a new window opened to present the fantastic.

“We will be commencing our descent into Tasmania very shortly; please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts.” My ears engulfed the message however my mind still ventured elsewhere, and it wasn’t until the justle and jolt of the planes endeavour through those once pleasing fluff balls that I was thrusted back into the world of the awake. We’re here, other than the plummeting dive of the aircraft that sent hairs stretching towards the sky they just left, I’d say Tasmania does not disappoint. The rise of the earth across the ceaseless sea of turtle green marsh enchanted every creature that ever had the privilege to glance it’s way. That mountain drew closer to the one who beckoned it with each grip of the expectant tires that crawled on hands and feet to unite the caller to its called. It’s figure grew in my eyes as they devoured the rigid rocky curves presented before them. Finally, the hotel appeared in view with the mountain tucked behind it barely a days hike away. I don’t know why I am in this mood today. My heart is out ticking the clock and my mind out pacing my heart. This island holds ancient enigmas, long forgotten, yet desperate to be revived and I am as eager as they are in their revival. Lying on my bed, I am portraited with pictures of the snowy boats that sail the sky, those glowing bulbs of night beyond ones capacity to switch off, and that pimple of earth ready to burst with its tales of old. So why am I bedded here and not exploring? For this logic and this logic alone, the night came before my holidays commencement.

The moon’s broad smile is posted directly atop the mystique mountain, and had it been tilted by a styler ever so slightly, the moon’s grin would transform into the mountains warm cap. The mountain donned clothes of fog to cover its inviting base as though not to torment my imagination, however, this only furthered my intrigue for now the mountain attracted the curious and the curiously foolish. I had to explore that summit no matter what. It’s sneaky time. I delicately shut the door, leaving my mother on the other side of it’s closure. I didn’t bother weighing myself down with a backpack, if I ran, perhaps I could get there and back before the sun greeted the earth. My watched beeped, flashing 12:00, it’s midnight. I have nine hours to explore and return, better start running. By the way, for those that have a spongeless memory, it’s winter where I am posted, and if it had slipped your mind, it proved impossible to escape mine as I trolloped between the thick towering reeds that plagued the desolate location I’d retreated to. Something strange was taking place in this bitterly eerie and eerily bitter Tasmanian night. Within my undeviating sight appeared the moon, mountain, and reeds; to my left and right forests pursued the trail towards the mountain; preceding my succession lay the hotel and a lonely leafless Fagus tree, however proceeding my run stands the same Fagus tree which seconds ago eluded my vision. With my head owled in the direction of the hotel, I perceive the hotel but the Fagus… Gone. Five times has this occurred while I ravenously bolt under the moon’s widening smirk. A Fagus tree not in my future yet left in my past but then it appears and as look back it is not where it once rested. From my memory of Biology, which I will admit is hazy, trees don’t sprout legs and move! Well, I believed they didn’t.

I pick up my pace; it’s probably a trick of the moon and his deceptive light. My mind seeks to Taylor style it off, but my heart refuses to drop the case. It fuels my legs with coal to churn faster, yet somethings cannot be out run, although I’d never thought a tree would be the one to outrace me. This isn’t like the wizard’s staircase illusion where there is no advancement, as the mountain is coming closer and so is the tree! I passed it again, what does it want? Why does it keep following me? “Go away!” I yelled. Yelled, have I completely fallen from the realm of sanity? Of course the tree cannot hear me, it’s absurd to even humour the idea that it was following me. But this time I hear it. Oh, I can feel it’s piercing stare; this Fergus is pursuing a tiger dressed kitten, but it’ll soon face my claws. I’ve got the edge now. I retreat in my course, falling flat on my back. The rustle continues past and then hastily stops. “I caught you!” I scream. “You were running after me. You cannot deny it; the world may call me crazy but you and I both know that you exist as more than a simple tree.” The tree gave no reply, why would it, it’s a tree? “Ah!” I gripped my hair while gravity humbled my knees. “Please, just tell me what you want and maybe…” A sigh left me to comfort the tree, “Maybe I can help you.” I choke out my offer. The wind bends the branches before shifting on leaving it to rest again. “I’m crazy.” My knees regain their might and I expect to continue my arduous journey. Before I can leave my ears are messaged with a creak. “Tree?” I ask turning back. No answer, “Suit yourself.” I grunt. “Wait…” A girl’s voice is muffled in the icy air. Already my eyes turn into hounds, scouting their surroundings to find the source of the sound but they return with no report, instead their hunt ends at the tree. “Please forgive my ill-mannered chase. I have never been privy to espy a mortal before much less a male of youth.” The tree shyly disclosed. “Who are you and how can you walk and talk?” I needed answers and fast; I wondered if I had left reality. “Since earliest winter’s arrival, at the birth of fledgling earth, spirits of all kinds bound together; blurring the lines of two in becoming one, to partake in a perpetual spectacle. Concerning myself in the relevance of this occasion… I am…” She paused absorbing my breath and restoring it back. “I am a girl recent made… Spirit.” My throats water got caught again only this time not sounding as a gulp, instead exiting as a blaring cough. She revealed herself from the Fergus; a young girl of coal hair, pale dress, and blinding white skin. “I am so sorry. You… You know, chrrrkk.” I put my finger across my neck concluding my words meaning. Terribly insensitive, I know, but sympathise with me for a second; it’s one in the morning and a Fergus tells me it’s dead, how am I supposed to respond? “Look I don’t know what I can do to help; I can’t bring back the dead no matter how much I may want to. You seem like a decent person and maybe… Maybe we could have been fri… No how about this, if you wish we can be friends and each year, at this time I shall journey to this place to play Mr Wolf with you.” I had hoped for a living first friend in my travels away from home, but beggars can’t be choosers.

Besides Casper who can claim to have had a ghost friend before? That sure is a more interesting introduction and makes the game two truths and one lie a whole lot spicier. She giggled as her response and then disappeared. I suppose to her, like to most people, I am just a joke. The tree no longer gave a Mona Lisa staring feeling, so I guess she left. I think that is enough spookiness for one night; I suppose I’ll bestow some attention to my abandoned pillow. Before I my legs had the chance to leave the wind whispered past my soul, “You are most kind mortal, eagerness leads me to next year, but time follows slowly behind. The moon’s lowering bids me go, but I am delighted to add a friend and not a foe.” Her echo trails off with the chilling winter’s kiss. I guess abnormalities haunt you no matter how fast you run.

My pillow turns into a heater on my wintered nose, and despite my body melting in the hotels cloud soft bed, I have a feeling tonight’s puzzling ghost encounter shall ward off pleasant dreams from bedding with me. Maybe I never should have left when that mountain called?