13. Alice’s Horse

Chapter 13

Alice’s Horse

T he waning crescent moon cast little light. Clouds canvased the sky, attempting to suppress what little star light tried to penetrate the inky darkness. Shadows of tree trunks stood as the watchful sentinels of Wildgrove Park. Their trunks squealed as they shifted ever so slightly in the chilly fall air. Overhead limbs stretched out over the path, ready to strike at those who dared venture into the woods at night. Their skeletal like hands swayed back and forth. Snake-like trails crisscrossed the landscape as the tree roots waited to enthrall the feet of unsuspecting victims.

Hugo stepped in short strides along the path. Confidence made with each step, yet respectful of the traps set out by the guardians of the forest. The smell of musty, rotting leaves permeated the air as each step released their aromatic flavors into the sky. The sound of a screeching animal in the distance echoed off the dark tree trunks. Then he heard a stick snap. Hugo paused.

His heart slammed against his ribs. He gulped for air, trying to prevent it from exploding through his chest. Attentively glancing over one shoulder and then the other, Hugo surveyed his surroundings, looking for the familiar shadow of a stalking coyote. Sticking his hand into his pants pocket to grab his phone, he pondered using the phone’s flashlight, but he let go. He buried his hands back into his jacket pockets. As far as he could tell, he was alone in the woods.

He continued along the path.

What if this is some sacrificial ritual? The thought pervaded Hugo’s head. She must really be pissed at me. A mischievous grin painted across his face. His stride grew bolder. Hugo had journeyed through these woods so many times that he knew every imperfection in the dirt path by heart. He gathered speed. He charged forth at a quickened pace, then he stopped.

A small alcove broke the ranks of the lined trees. A familiar alcove. Their alcove.

He removed his hands from their hiding spot. His right hand clutched the left. The index and thumb twisted the black onyx ring. He gazed into the small clearing. The world faded away. A spectral image of a green and white renaissance dress floating in the air burned into Hugo’s imagination. The ring spun faster. His heart pounded, and his breath came shorter.

“Hugo!” Elizabeth’s voice echoed through the forest.

Hugo released the ring and clenched his hands into fists. Squatting down, he squeezed his eyes closed and shut out the world. He wheezed at the air, desperately trying to normalize his heartbeat with every breath. He remained balled up for a moment. His eyes snapped open. The green and white apparition was gone. He rose; his legs were relieved of pressure.

He checked back down the path where he came. A fleeting thought about leaving entered his mind. He focused down the path yet traveled. He thrust his hands into his jacket’s silky lined pockets. With his eyebrows bent with determination and his chest puffed out, he continued down the path.

A white light broke through the darkness. The faint glow grew with every one of Hugo’s steps. He slowed as he approached. The twisting shadows receded into the darkness, revealing grayish-brown tree trunks that circled a large clearing. Hugo paused. A shadowy outline of a figure stood in front of the light. The unmistakable silhouette of her rounded, pointy hat. The unmistakable curves of her body. He let the image sear into his memory.

Hugo emerged from behind the trees. His eyes adjusted to the light emanating from a rock on the ground. The shadowy outline disappeared with every step until Alice emerged in the light. Her head was tilted, and the brim of her hat obscured her emerald green eyes.

She leaned against a broomstick floating horizontally in the air with her feet crossed. Her right hand clutched the back of a padded, brown, saddle-style bicycle seat attached above the bristles. Interwoven streaks of purple and red were amongst the black broomcorn.

She leaned into her outstretched left arm; her hand stabilized her along the thick brown handle. Streaks of black markings and tan oval knots broke up the color along the smooth handle. It rose slightly toward the end and then jutted down, giving the appearance of a charging thoroughbred’s head.

Alice uncrossed her feet and raised her head. “You’re late.”

“Well…” Hugo’s voice trailed off as he removed his hands from his jacket. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. A sly smirk appeared on his face. “The thought did cross my mind that you brought me out here to be used in some ritual sacrifice.”

“The night’s still young,” Alice replied. The tails of her waistcoat hoodie nearly dragged along the ground as she stood up. Her Cheshire grin matched his smirk. “Besides, I would have done it in my basement. Saves time and effort on the cleanup.”

Hugo chuckled.

Alice gave two taps to the padded brown seat. “Hugo Dodds, I’d like you to meet my horse.”

“So, I’m guessing that was you,” Hugo proclaimed.

“Was me?” She played with the brim of her hat, adjusting it a few times.

“That night in the yard a couple weeks ago. I saw something flying through the sky. That was you,” Hugo explained. “Right?”

Alice’s eyes widened. She hesitated and finally mustered, “Did it frighten you?”

“No,” Hugo replied. “Not at all.”

The smile returned to Alice’s face. “Great,” Alice said. “Hop on up. You’re going to learn how to fly.” She gave a final tap of the seat.

Hugo approached the broom. It hovered in the air, rose and fell ever so slightly, like a boat bobbing on calm waters. Hugo touched the smooth, polished handle. The broom jerked forward at the unfamiliar touch.

“Easy, boy. Easy,” Alice’s calm voice whispered, grabbing the broomstick before turning her attention back to Hugo. “He’s not used to other people touching, let alone riding him.”

“So, it thinks it’s a horse?”

“Well, sort of,” Alice explained. “Kind of. It’s a branch from a hickory tree that grew up on a horse farm. The tree was around a lot of horses and farm dogs. It observed and took on their personalities—”

“The tree thought it was a horse?” Hugo interrupted.

“And a dog,” Alice emphasized. She petted the head of the broomstick. Her fingers glided down the angled part of the handle toward the end.

“The tree thought it was a horse and a dog?”

Alice tilted her head toward Hugo. “He is a very loyal horse dog.”

“And you’re petting it?”

“Clearly,” Alice said with a confused expression as she turned her attention back to the broomstick.

Her fingers circled to the underside, scratching its would be chin. She focused on the broom’s would be face.

“But it’s a stick?”

“Yes.”

“But it’s a stick!”

Alice leered toward Hugo. Her eyebrows arched as they narrowed, and her eyes widened. “Do you want to ride him or not?”

“Does he have a name? ”

A befuddled look overcame Alice’s face. “I’ve always called him broom.”

“Every horse and every dog has to have a name. You have to name him.” Hugo stood there, hands on his hips, with an impish grin. “He needs a name.”

Alice rose and crossed her arms. She shifted her weight to one side and tilted her head in the opposite direction. She paused. “Tell you what,” Alice said. “You survive this, and you can name him.”

Perking up, Hugo asked, “Survive?”

Alice glanced toward the broom and gave a wink. “He can be a little… temperamental. Like I said, he’s a loyal horse dog.”

Hugo approached the broom, hand outstretched, ready to grab the handle.

Alice stopped him. “No. No. Not like that. You have to introduce yourself first. Gain his trust.”

Hugo gave a discerning look and then moved around to the front of the broom. “Umm… Hi, broom.” He gave a half-assed wave. “I’m Hugo.”

“Pet him!” Alice instructed. “Pet him like you’re scratching Max between the eyes.”

Hugo placed his hands on his hips and leered at Alice. She smiled and nodded toward the broom. Hugo touched the end of the handle with two fingers. He lightly traced the handle along its nose, to the forehead, and around the neck before circling back on the underside chin. The broom waved up and down as it reacted to his touch. He petted the broom again, noticing every bump and little imperfections along the wooden handle. The broom gingerly moved forward, nudging Hugo in the stomach.

“I think someone likes you,” Alice said. “Ready to take a ride?”

Hugo nodded, and Alice led Hugo toward the seat. He placed a palm on the stick, slowly closing his fingers into a tight grip. Swinging his left leg over the broomstick, he straddled the seat between both legs. He sat back. The broom held its position in the air as it received Hugo’s weight .

“Now the basics—” Alice began.

The broom lurched forward and bucked toward the sky like a horse throwing a rider. Hugo let go of the handle and fell backward. The rich, earthy smell of damp leaves wafted over Hugo’s nose as he hit the ground with a thud. His limbs sprawled out in every direction. He was momentarily stunned. The broom flew into a loop-the-loop before stopping above Hugo.

“Broom! We talked about this. Be nice to Hugo,” Alice scolded.

The broom turned around and nudged into Alice. She held his chin and scratched his head.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. But! Be nice.”

She leaned over, looking at Hugo’s face staring up into the night sky. Her head obscured Hugo’s view of the crescent moon.

“Are you done horsing around?” She extended her hand to help him up.

“Funny,” Hugo replied, accepting the gesture.

He stood up, wiping away the wet leaves. He hesitated for a moment before delicately wrapping his fingers around the hickory branch. Hugo clutched the stick with his other hand for stabilization, not wanting to fall for its tricks again. He swung his leg over the seat and sat back.

“Now what?”

“Lean forward when you want him to go,” Alice said, mimicking the movements. “Lean back when you want him to stop. Lean into the turns. Lift up to go up. Push down to go down.”

“Seems simple enough,” Hugo replied.

“The most important thing to remember is you’re working as a team. Together. You aren’t controlling him. You’re guiding him. You have to be on the lookout for where to go, and he’ll do the rest,” Alice finished her instructions. “When you’re ready, lift your feet and lean forward.”

Hugo repositioned his hands, lightly tapping the handle with his fingers to find the right spot. He squeezed, but too tight. He leaned forward with his eyes focused. His heart raced. He paused and smiled at Alice. “I know what I’m going to name him,” Hugo said.

“Oh?”

“Galahad,” he replied before kicking up his feet. “Yah, Gally. Yah!”

The broom shot forward, increasing speed as it lurched toward a tree.

“Pull up,” Alice’s voice was frantic. “Pull up!”

Hugo pulled back on the broomstick and climbed into the sky. Branches of trees clawed out in their attempt to contain and snare the pair. The branches snapped off after striking Hugo’s leather jacket. He leaned left and right, zigzagging his way through the myriad of ash, oak, and sycamore tree limbs. Hugo leaned forward, hugging the handle as closely as possible. Their pace quickened. Hugo focused on a small opening that appeared ahead. Their escape.

He gently pulled the handle closer to his chest, rising further into the sky. His heart beat faster and faster with every second. The whacks and snaps of tree branches quickened. A sharp pain hit his cheek from some unforeseen object. He tucked his head closer to the chest. The opening approached.

They burst through the tree lines. The chilled air rushed past his reddened face. The crescent moon bathed them in a faint, bluish-white light as they continued their climb to freedom.

Hugo leaned back, slowed down, and allowed himself a moment of reflection. The soft yellowish glow of the town center appeared off in the distance. The unmistakable peak of St. Jude’s steeple. The bell tower of city hall. Small luminescent orbs dotted the landscape from porch lights left on to turn back the darkness.

The night air was quiet, peaceful. Hugo released his grip, sliding his hands back along the broomstick. He sat up to take it all in. His eyes closed, allowing himself to savor a moment of joy. He leaned back and tugged on the wooden handle.

The broom bolted higher in the sky. The inertia caught Hugo by surprise, and he fell further backward. They climbed higher. The invisible hand of gravity latched on to Hugo’s shoulders. He slid back along the smooth leather of the bicycle seat. His hands could no longer hold on. The broom shot higher into the sky. Hugo’s eyes widened, and he let out a barbaric yawp at the sudden realization that he was no longer ascending with the broom.

Hugo tumbled through the air, but the dark sky hid its secret.

“Hugo!” Alice shouted.

The trees swayed back and forth, obscuring his view of her.

His body tumbled over and over in a dizzying display. Streaks of purple energy shot out and fought back against the darkness from the woods below him. Energy crackled as the purple sparks hit their targets below. He wondered if she was trying to clear a path to save him. He hoped.

The broom vanished in the night sky. His body continued its descent toward certain doom. Hugo was shouting, but couldn’t hear himself over his fear. The treetops grew closer and closer.

The barren limbs continued to sway back and forth. They stretched as far into the sky as they could, waiting to snatch their prey. He could not see Alice below, only more streaks of purple energy. Hugo closed his eyes, not wanting to see his impending doom.

Elizabeth. The name coursed through his mind. His final thought.

“Hugo!” Alice shouted into the sky.

His eyes snapped open. Her voice echoed off of the waiting trees. Alice! He couldn’t muster the name, only the thought.

Hugo was only a few feet away from the trees. Their limbs quickened with anticipation in the chilled wind. A wood branch rose and smacked Hugo in the face. Not a tree limb, but the familiar sight of brown with streaks of black and ovals of tan.

Hugo wrapped his arms and legs around the broomstick. The inertia caused him to slide off the side. Galahad barrel-rolled with Hugo’s limp body, desperately attempting to stabilize their momentum. Hugo found the bicycle seat. He slowly rose, grabbing the handle with a firm grip. His eyes focused on the treetops zipping past at great speed. He leaned in.

Hugo kicked the broomcorn bristles. “Fly, Galahad! Fly!”

Hugo and the broom circled around the top of Wildgrove Park at a great speed. He pulled back on the handle, rising higher into the sky. He leaned forward, resting his chin on the smooth hickory. The wind rushed across his face. The chill in the air was of no concern.

They climbed higher and higher, almost perpendicular to the ground. He raised his right hand and gave a two-finger salute toward the crescent moon. With a wink, he grabbed the handle and descended.

Their vertical descent gained speed. They fell with purpose toward the trees below. Barren limbs awaited the duo.

“Not yet,” Hugo commanded.

They continued their rapid descent.

“Not yet.”

They were within yards of the trees. Their limbs quickened their pace with the breeze.

“Not yet!”

Galahad pushed against Hugo’s hands, but Hugo resisted altering their course.

They were within feet of the trees.

“Now!” Hugo shouted, rearing back on the broom handle.

They pulled out of their tailspin and sailed along the treetops. They circled around, reducing speed, before descending back into the clearing to a waiting Alice.

Hugo’s heart raced with exhilaration. His cheeks were red with wind burn. A smile… a long-forgotten smile… played across his face. He tried to catch his breath. The thrills of the night’s activities were still fresh in his mind. He placed his feet on the ground and leaned back into the seat.

“Good boy,” Hugo reassured Galahad as he patted him on the handle. “You did good. ”

“What the fuck was that?” Alice yelled as she was now deep into the thicket of the trees. She trudged back.

“That?” Hugo pointed to the sky before nonchalantly leaning back in the seat. “That is what we in the business call expert flying. Natural skills.”

Alice rushed over to Hugo and shoved him in the chest. He rocked back and forth, nearly falling off the broom if not for his left foot propping him up.

Alice hugged him, burying her head in between his neck and shoulder. “You scared the shit out of me.” Alice’s muffled voice tickled Hugo.

He wrapped his arms around her, weaving his right hand into her vibrant purple hair, gently massaging the back of her head. They held together, interwoven as one, for what felt like an eternity. Hugo had not experienced this in months. He didn’t want it to end. He leaned in closer to Alice and whispered, “Maybe I’ll teach you to fly like that someday.”

Alice relinquished her hold on Hugo and gave him another shove.

He chuckled at Alice’s frustration. “I’m kidding.”

“Gally, dump him,” Alice commanded.

“Wait, wait…” Hugo’s voice trailed off as Galahad bucked up into the sky, dumping Hugo back onto the cold, damp ground.

The thud resonated through his back. The earthy, musty smell wafted over his nose.

“Help.”

Ravenhill Drive was silent. The houses darkened as their occupants slumbered for the evening. The glow of their porch lights dimmed as the riders approached their houses from the back to reduce the possibility of being seen by any potential onlookers. They flew between the two houses before coming to a stop in between them. Alice’s feet greeted the ground as Galahad softly came to a full stop .

Hugo sat as far back on the seat as he could. His arms wrapped around Alice’s waist, head resting where her shoulder met the bottom of her neck. The faint hint of rosemary and sage perfume enticed his senses. He didn’t want to let go. He lingered as long as possible before finally releasing his hug. His fingers slowly traced around her waist. He felt the smooth polyester fibers of the coat against her body. Alice slightly arched her back.

She shivered.

He smiled.

Hugo swung his leg over Galahad. Alice followed. She bit her lip and brushed her hair behind her ears. They stood, eyes locked, inches from each other. He lost himself in the stare of her emerald green eyes. She locked onto his icy blues.

An unseen force pulled him closer and closer to her. Hugo’s desires burned in that moment. He wanted to act, but something held him back. Neither dared to utter the dark secrets of their intentions in that moment.

“Thank you,” he finally broke the silence. “Thank you for a fun evening. I haven’t experienced this in months.”

She smiled. He turned and headed back toward his door.

Alice called out his name in a panic, “Hugo!”

Her words stopped him in his tracks. He reluctantly turned around.

“The night’s still young. Would you like to come inside?”

She adjusted her hat by pushing it back. Her face perfectly illuminated in the moonlight. The glow of her purple hair. Her lips narrowed. Her eyebrows arched. A look of uncertainty.

Hugo froze. His heart raced, and his eyes widened with anticipation. He tried to find the words he wanted to say. The words he needed to say. All the years of speaking failed him at that moment. He couldn’t verbalize his heart’s desires. His heart’s wants. His heart’s needs. He wanted Alice in that moment, but something held him back.

“I had a great time tonight,” Hugo said .

Alice lowered her head, pulling her hat back down. The brim hid her face from Hugo.

Hugo’s shoulders slumped. His wide-eyed expression narrowed to contain the tears that swelled. “I want to, but I don’t think I can.”

Alice raised her head; her eyes narrowed and brow scrunched. Hugo’s stomach sank from the hurt in her eyes. “What are we? Just friends or something more?”

“I want us to be something more,” he replied.

In that instant, he wanted to bend her backward and kiss her the way he used to kiss Elizabeth. Elizabeth. Her name echoed through his mind, haunting him, tormenting him. He sank into the ground, unable to move, held in place, so he wouldn’t act on his emotions. “I… I need more time.”

Alice nodded. “Okay. I can give you time. All the time you need.” She wiped away a tear and smiled. Hugo knew that smile—the smile to mask the pain.

“Thank you.”

Hugo fought back the tears swelling in his eyes. He stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets and turned. His head hung low like he had committed an atrocity. He knew, in that moment, he had messed up. He knew with every fiber in his being he should turn around and rush toward her in ecstasy.

An invisible string pulled him, compelled him back inside. He tried to escape, to run toward her embrace. That invisible string lurched him forward into the sanctity of his house.

“Have a good night,” she said.

He turned back. Alice stood upright, perhaps hoping he would reconsider, as he ascended his porch steps.

“You too, Alice. It was fun.” He disappeared inside the faded, tumbledown home.