Darkest Part of the Woods Read Online Free PDF Page A
Author: Ramsey Campbell
said.
"Who?"
Lennox's eagerness made Sam wary of disturbing him. "I don't know," he said, truthfully enough "It was just me falling asleep."
Certainly the incident resembled a dream he could barely recall, although the closeness of the woods appeared to help. He'd been sitting on the platform with his back against the treetrunk, watching the sunset sink into the trees before he crawled into his sleeping bag. At first the sight of darkness rising from the forest had only reminded him that the nights were beginning to lengthen, and then he'd felt as if a presence vaster than the woods was advancing towards him across the changed landscape-as if the night sky or the blackness of which it was the merest scrap was descending into the woods. He'd closed his eyes to fend off the dizziness the impression brought with it, only to imagine the presence had shrunk and was perching next to him. He'd flinched away so violently he had toppled off the platform. Before his eyes were fully open he'd had a dreamy notion that the night would bear him up Then the ground had struck his right foot like an enormous hammer hardly muffled by its covering of last year's leaves, and as the rest of him fell over he'd heard and felt his ankle snap. "I was just bloody clumsy," he said.
"Don't close your mind, Sammy." Lennox righted his head and turned it towards the forest while widening his eyes at Sam. "What can you see?" he urged.
There was no doubt now that a wind had risen. Leaves were flocking out of the woods to dance with their shadows on the bypass. "What am I supposed to?" Sam risked asking.
"I can't tell you. Trust your own experience." When Sam found nothing to say, not least because he felt too intensely watched, Lennox said "Go and look."
"Don't you want me to stay and talk to you?"
"There are better ways for a young buck to spend his time than listening to an old lunatic." Apparently this was meant to be overheard by a nurse, who frowned at him and wagged a finger at his choice of a
word for himself. "Next time we'll have more to say to each other," Lennox told Sam.
As Sam stood up, his grandfather swung his legs onto the recliner and propped his cheek on the knuckles of one crooked hand as though in preparation for a spectacle. "Thank Heather for her efforts," he said. "I never answered any of her questions."
"Are you going to?"
Lennox stared into his face for so long that Sam had begun to wonder if this implied he should know the answer when his grandfather said "Selcouth."
"Will she know what that means?"
"Sooner or later," Lennox said, drawing his legs up towards his stomach.
Was he betraying that he was less able to cope than he'd pretended? He reminded Sam of a wizened fetus. "See you," Sam promised, and limped to his car. As he drove by the recliner he beeped his horn, but Lennox stayed expressionless and absolutely still except for his hair, which swayed in imitation of the woods that might have been all he was seeing.
As soon as Sam was through the gates the wind attacked the car. It must have changed direction, since it kept struggling to force him across the bypass while the trees at the edge of the road bent away from it, indicating or reaching for the depths of the woods. When he swung the car into the outer lane, large trucks sidled dangerously close to him. He was gripping the wheel so hard it bruised his fingers by the time he was able to make a U-turn to the lay-by alongside the woods.
His tree had been felled to help clear the space. It was only one of hundreds the protesters had failed to save while he was in hospital. No doubt they were protesting elsewhere now; few of them had been local. He couldn't blame them too much for the destruction when he'd been unable to prevent it himself. He wasn't even certain any longer how it might have affected the environment. He wasn't here only in response to his grandfather's suggestion; he thought a walk in the woods might help him remember what else he
"Who?"
Lennox's eagerness made Sam wary of disturbing him. "I don't know," he said, truthfully enough "It was just me falling asleep."
Certainly the incident resembled a dream he could barely recall, although the closeness of the woods appeared to help. He'd been sitting on the platform with his back against the treetrunk, watching the sunset sink into the trees before he crawled into his sleeping bag. At first the sight of darkness rising from the forest had only reminded him that the nights were beginning to lengthen, and then he'd felt as if a presence vaster than the woods was advancing towards him across the changed landscape-as if the night sky or the blackness of which it was the merest scrap was descending into the woods. He'd closed his eyes to fend off the dizziness the impression brought with it, only to imagine the presence had shrunk and was perching next to him. He'd flinched away so violently he had toppled off the platform. Before his eyes were fully open he'd had a dreamy notion that the night would bear him up Then the ground had struck his right foot like an enormous hammer hardly muffled by its covering of last year's leaves, and as the rest of him fell over he'd heard and felt his ankle snap. "I was just bloody clumsy," he said.
"Don't close your mind, Sammy." Lennox righted his head and turned it towards the forest while widening his eyes at Sam. "What can you see?" he urged.
There was no doubt now that a wind had risen. Leaves were flocking out of the woods to dance with their shadows on the bypass. "What am I supposed to?" Sam risked asking.
"I can't tell you. Trust your own experience." When Sam found nothing to say, not least because he felt too intensely watched, Lennox said "Go and look."
"Don't you want me to stay and talk to you?"
"There are better ways for a young buck to spend his time than listening to an old lunatic." Apparently this was meant to be overheard by a nurse, who frowned at him and wagged a finger at his choice of a
word for himself. "Next time we'll have more to say to each other," Lennox told Sam.
As Sam stood up, his grandfather swung his legs onto the recliner and propped his cheek on the knuckles of one crooked hand as though in preparation for a spectacle. "Thank Heather for her efforts," he said. "I never answered any of her questions."
"Are you going to?"
Lennox stared into his face for so long that Sam had begun to wonder if this implied he should know the answer when his grandfather said "Selcouth."
"Will she know what that means?"
"Sooner or later," Lennox said, drawing his legs up towards his stomach.
Was he betraying that he was less able to cope than he'd pretended? He reminded Sam of a wizened fetus. "See you," Sam promised, and limped to his car. As he drove by the recliner he beeped his horn, but Lennox stayed expressionless and absolutely still except for his hair, which swayed in imitation of the woods that might have been all he was seeing.
As soon as Sam was through the gates the wind attacked the car. It must have changed direction, since it kept struggling to force him across the bypass while the trees at the edge of the road bent away from it, indicating or reaching for the depths of the woods. When he swung the car into the outer lane, large trucks sidled dangerously close to him. He was gripping the wheel so hard it bruised his fingers by the time he was able to make a U-turn to the lay-by alongside the woods.
His tree had been felled to help clear the space. It was only one of hundreds the protesters had failed to save while he was in hospital. No doubt they were protesting elsewhere now; few of them had been local. He couldn't blame them too much for the destruction when he'd been unable to prevent it himself. He wasn't even certain any longer how it might have affected the environment. He wasn't here only in response to his grandfather's suggestion; he thought a walk in the woods might help him remember what else he