text: Forest Creatures I’m frustrated looking at an empty sheet of A-4 its white virgin rectangle taunting me to write. Was my life always so inane and predictable? The page's luminosity of unblemished parchment pulls my mind back to a bedsheet blowing during a wonderful August summer school holiday. This mundane occurrence of mother washing, over time, has become a sorely missed distant place and time of simplicity. Within moments, I have sat again on my James Captain Motorcycle in the early seventies. The old maroon machines familiar aroma of petrol and oil permeates making me breathe quicker and twitch the throttle of an inactive engine. A faint whine from the neighbor’s dog pulls my attention to her, she looks longingly at me over our adjoining fence, her soft eyes begging me to stroke her and perhaps take her for a walk. I make a subtle click to her with good-girl appeasement. She slinks back to her kennel realizing that today’s adventure will not include a dog walk. A gust of wind flaps my mother’s clean washing, resulting in wafting and billowing sheets flooding the ambiance of our rear garden with fresh smelling artificial tones. This scene of domestication makes me desperate to leave this pocket of boredom to begin my ride bathed in sun, flicking the ignition with a gloved hand; followed by a quick kick of a chrome leaver brings a snappy two-stroke to life. Shoving it of its stand, I maneuver her past the kitchen window and under our house gable onto a pale concrete drive, excitement builds like a drug high, as my anticipation heightens, I look out both ways for cars and police, then excitedly scoot illegally across our public road, entering through a hedge-gap to an adjoining field. Within minutes, I’m speeding along a field track to Far-Wood, breathing deeply, the wind blowing my hair on a bright summer’s morning, serenaded by a two-stroke hum and its gas mixture stimulating all my senses, spreading a smile across an exuberant face. Mile’s flash-by and too soon I’m closing the throttle to enter the forest, cutting my speed to almost a walk helps me negotiate a thin sliver of a woodland track, dotted with stones and fallen branches. As the track widens and becomes uncluttered, a thirst for speed made me open up the throttle releasing a snappy two-stroke engine growl. Heavily laden trees flash by, as dirt shoots from the motorcycle back-wheel, these visual cues trigger adrenaline. Instinctively, I Stand on my foot-rests tensing all my muscles as the bike takes off over a bump, it lands smoothly before a steep hill, winding open the taps, digs the rear tire into the soft earth, my machine scales the incline easily! Eventually, opaque woodland clears, answering to an open field paralleling a strip of forest. Before me, a dirt track meanders and undulates between forest edge and muddy field. Regretfully my throttle has to close as the bike weaves and skips pulling my arms and shoulders. The angry two-stroke engine spits and complains as I wrestle the steering through loose dirt and thick mud. Crawling along with my eyes scouring for a good track, allows me to see and smell the open field and the greenery of a substantial forest. Eventually, a slow arching bend pulls away from the plowed loamy field through a lush green arch that leads to a hidden Dell. Without warning, my stomach turns and my heart races as a previously flat path descend sharply into an area full of hillocks littered with yellow and green hawthorn bushes, I pull the brakes sharply stopping with a skid, then I maneuver the bike behind a small hill; a deft flick of a silver key kills a strumming engine. As the engine dies all that can be heard in this eerily quiet place are cooling machine clicks. I’ve never stopped for any time in the Fairy Dell before as locals warn against it! However, being a rebel, warnings act as a siren. Moreover, what can be frightening about an ancient Dell, that local villager’s walkthrough? Encouraged by the heat I laid against lush grass, to enjoy the day's sun and balmy ambiance, I am convinced that this Dell being haunted by Fairies seems like a fanciful tale? Silence causes me to check my senses again; I can only hear a droning sound of long-distance traffic and an occasional metallic click of a still cooling motorcycle engine. Noticeably, sounds of wild-life and birds remain absent. Curiosity, makes me get up to begin a reconnoiter. I notice animal tracks go through the Dell, strangely non-lead to underground dwellings? Following, tiny footpaths cut into turf, leads to a deep shrubbed mini-gorge, its strangeness beckons further examination. I Eclipse its edge, the bank sides collapse! Falling, whilst scrambling, sliding, scrouging through bushes lands me on a grassy plateau, I look up to see how far was my descent, staring up from the gloom shows me the main path has disappeared, stretching before me, a well-trodden tiny path zig-zagging through scattered copses demands to be followed. I scour the narrow path for prints and droppings, seeing nothing doesn't worry me! Common sense dictates weathering can remove any trace of animal activity. However, I follow it deeper into a dense copse full of undergrowth and darkness. A flap and a scurry, of what sounds like small fluttering wings jolts my head to look upwards, a thud follows as my head hits a thick branch. A young woman’s laugh rings, turning towards its direction a beautiful girl is sat on an old tree stump, stroking my head to relieve the pain. I also rub my eyes checking this girl is not a fanciful wish, despite my attempts to correct my vision, she still appears to be sat and smiling at me. Before I can speak, “Hello, John.” Greeted me! I look at her every one of my hormones races. She was beautiful with blond-haired dressed with wildflowers in barrettes, complimented with a figure-hugging bottle green skirt, strangely she wore no shoes? Moreover, I didn’t recognize this person! As I stood raking every memory of village and school girls, I knew, her soft voice whispered. “Are you scared of me John? Come over here.” I walked over desperately trying to remember where I’d met this strange beauty. As I approached a fragrance of fresh forest after rain exuded from her. She Moved across the impromptu stump seat; her hand playfully tapped the wood beckoning me to sit next to her. I sat down nervously not knowing where to put my eyes, many questions concerning this young woman puzzled and embarrassed me, as I could not remember her! Her eyes sparkled green as she looked at me and smiled in a cheeky elfin way, despite my aversion to prolixity, I had to ask an obvious question. “How do you know me? I don’t believe I’ve ever met you before?” She laughed uncontrollably kicking her legs in delight. “I see you every day John on your way to school, sometimes at school, always in the woods near your home. Exasperation flooded me! Why don’t you introduce yourself? She followed this question by giggling uncontrollably, seemingly enjoying my disadvantage of her presence in my life. Stopping suddenly, she declared. “That’s what I’m doing now John, introducing myself!” May I ask your name?” Her eyes flashed with devilment! “Guess!” “I cannot guess, there are simply too many girl names. However, in my school, all the girls are called Bridget, Maria, or Mary.” She giggled again obviously enjoying her ability to remain a mystery. Slightly frustrated I proposed a solution. “Ok, I think I will call you elf. You look elfin, and certainly dress like one!” She retorted! I’m certainly not an elf!” Seeing the lady was upset I tried to justify my assumption with a voice that was a little higher through nerves. “I think elves are quite cute, at least the ones I’ve seen in paintings and prints.” A pair of green eyes steadily stared back arousing carnal interest. Swinging her legs around to face me I braced myself for some kind of rebuff. “I can assure you John Elves may look cute, however, in my experience of those trouble-making irksome creatures. Cute is the last word I would associate with them! “Sorry?” I replied with a deliberate tone that mirrored the Australian speaking pattern of a question-initiative. This rouse did not work as only a muted reply supported by sparkling eyes returned. Frustrated, I tried another ploy to make her reveal her name. “So...” No name prompt returned from her, just an air of enjoyment, it was at this stage I decided to fain no interest in whatever name she used, hence a spiel of small talk erupted. “Do you often come here? I mean what’s of interest at the bottom of a Dell surrounded by thick bushes? She stood up quickly, in a releve like a ballerina, again a waft of fresh forest filled the air. She held out her finger, a Jenny-Wren, flew to it perched and began twittering to her. Without looking at me a loud dialog between her and the bird ensued. “Jenny, he’s asking why I come here? Obviously to be with my friends, and of all my friends, you are the wisest little bird.” Excited fluttering and chirping from the little bird followed she and her feathered companion seemed to be talking the same language, then both looked at me. “Jenny does not like your motorcycle. It frightens her! What do you say, John?” In reality, what I’ve just seen astounds me Manny thoughts hatch with the ferocity of fireworks! Nevertheless, my reaction is mixed; a part of me believes this apparent bond of a girl, and a bird may be an elaborate trick? Therefore, I try to ascertain a way to qualify my position of doubt, ignoring her question I ask. “Can you tell the bird to fly to my right shoulder and kiss my ear?” She stroked her bird’s tummy while saying something, immediately the creature flew to my shoulder and lightly kissed me, and returned. Astonishment took any words of comment away; they truly had some kind of bond! Enwrapped, I kept repeating amazing, fantastic, and other expressive adjectives, which will remain unprintable. Releasing her bird into a nearby tree and sitting down on her stump again, her green eyes fell on mine. “I can speak to any animal; would you like to see my rabbit friends?” This was an opportunity I did not want to miss, yes! Spilled from my lips with childish wanting. From her mouth came a shrill whistle, within a moment's glance dozens of rabbits filled the grass plateau, all of them running around both of us, many talking to the mysterious girl. I was wide-eyed and smiling profusely having never seen such a command over wild animal! A part of me was witnessing something that seemed impossible, the other desperately looked for a sleight of hand. However, whatever this phenomenon was? It was happening before my eyes! After a few moments, she dismissed her rabbit friends, leaving just the two of us and a chirping Wren. After all the excitement my stomach began feeling empty, looking at my watch to check the time revealed an empty wrist. However, instinct told me it was near lunchtime. Before I left, I tried one more time to extract her name. “Excuse me, (With a long pause) She did not say her name but, as usual, smiled with delight! “I have to go, it's near my lunch; it's been great fun hanging out with you?” She smiled seeing another failed attempt at retrieving her name. Then her head fell like a little girl, a tear rolled down her cheek as she whispered sorry. Bemused, I blurted- "Why did you whisper sorry? I’ve had a great time!" Her eyes fell on mine. “I’m sorry for making you late; however, like you, I have to go!” I blurted out. “Will I see you again?” With an enchanting giggle, she waved and disappeared behind a bush. I ran to the spot, not a trace of her remained; my scramble to the path mirrored my mind scrambling in earnest, trying to make sense of my encounter! Was she a fairy? This erratic thought kept circulating in my head. Eventually, I cleared the steep top and began walking to where I had hidden my motorcycle. It was missing! It then inexplicably it went dark! Dismayed and confused I started my long walk home, puzzled and exasperated by all that had happened. Trying to find some logic to my present situation, thoughts of practical jokers, and perhaps the darkness falling indicated an eclipse had just occurred? In reality, I was flummoxed. After about two hours of stumbling through dirt tracks and dark forest, the street lights adjacent to my house came into view, then I noticed all the house was dark? It must be later than I thought. Nervous feet walked quietly to the door, afraid my parents would be angry, gathering my keys, I tried the lock. They didn’t fit! Trying them again resulted in them failing. No option was left, apart from wrapping loudly on the door. Anxious as to how my parents would react my first knocks were quiet; no one stirred; my next volley shook the glass. I heard a movement upstairs, above me a light illuminated, seconds later a large man opened the door wearing a blue dressing gown, gruffly asking. “What do you want!” I stood vacantly scanning around for signs of my parents, searching for an answer, I could only say the words. “I live here.” He looked quizzically at me. “You’ve got the wrong address.” He began shutting the door I screamed. “I’m John Paver and I live here!” He paused closing his door. “No one lives here called Paver. You have the wrong address!” His wife started coming down the stairs, asking what was wrong? “Some kid says he’s lives here, probably drunk; you know what kids are.” She came to the door in a white dressing gown and piled up dark hair; she smiled kindly. “Who are you?” With a stressed voice, I repeated John Paver. Her mouth dropped. “You can’t be! John paver disappeared forty years ago!” I screamed back at her. “I am John Paver!” The man reached for a black rectangle that lit-up, his fingers started whipping and scrawling over it. “We will soon find out who you are son!” His mouth fell open, he showed his wife something he’d found. Both stared in disbelief. “Impossible! I can check, what year is it son?” Astonished I replied- “1974!” Jesus, this is impossible, do you have any money on you? I raked through my pockets. “Yeah, I’ve Ten-shillings.” He looked at me checking my appearance, after which he turned to face his wife holding an expression full of disbelief, his now shaken voice proposed. “We’d better ring the station!”