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If she still owned her heart, it would have sunk to her
shiny shoes. “Yes.”
“It’s not a fable.”
“I guess I knew that already.” Her sigh rippled through the
blue liquid. She pressed the glass to her lips.
“Drink up; the only way there is through this bottle.”
Despite being small-boned (with no hips, as Jerry often
bemoaned), she knew no amount of squeezing would force her
into the bottle. Even her lost heart wouldn’t make it
through the slim neck.
She sipped the drink – it tasted like rusted metal on a
frosty morning. Something wriggled at the bottom of the
glass.
“You’re not very bright are you?” He refilled her glass.
“Never mind; all will be revealed. Drink up, drink up,
unless a timepiece will prove sufficient tick for you as it
did for the Tinman in Oz.”
After about her third glass the world began to tip, with her
fourth or fifth the blue liquid darkened to a forest green,
and that was when she knew the truth. Or at least she knew
the location of the Forest of Broken Hearts.
It’s amazing what you can find at the bottom of a glass,
Ruby thought as she landed on a patch of damp leaves.
A thump-thump-thump echoed like a distant drum beat through
the thick forest. A shush-shush shivered through leaves
causing them to tremble. A bush picked up its roots and
shuffled across her path. The bush coughed. Ruby took a
step back, but then realising that her journey would be
futile if she didn’t actually journey, she walked around it.
Three children, a boy and two girls dressed in sepia
coloured clothes, sat on a beat-up trunk. They watched her
as she stumbled towards them.
“We know what you’re doing here.” Steam billowed from their
mouths, and wisped toward Ruby, as they spoke as one.
“The same as everyone else who wanders through, I expect,”
Ruby answered. She wondered why her own breath did not mist.
“What’s in the trunk?”
“Cobwebs and lost things.”
The lid creaked as they tore it open. The same white mist
fogged and obscured the contents. Curiosity did not propel
her forward; instead, it urged her to take a few steps back.
“What are you afraid of? Someone ripped out your spine as
well as your heart?” The boy spat. “Go on, take a peek, you
never know what or who you might discover.”
“She’s scared… She’s scared,” they whispered among
themselves. The sound of rustling paper issued through the
forest as they rubbed their hands together. “She should be;
we’ve seen who is inside.”
The trunk began to buckle and rock. The distant beat of her
heart drummed louder and more persistent. A windstorm
swirled within her empty chest. Ruby hated to admit it, but
she was scared and wondering why she hadn’t asked for the
route map home. Without intending to, she had stepped closer
to the trunk. The earth buckled beneath her feet. Worms
wriggled over her exposed toes, slithering under the yellow
leather. Ruby slipped her feet out of her shoes and stepped
onto the writhing ground. Bile pushed up her throat.
A man crawled out of the trunk. Sandy hair glistened with
sweat and slime and a grey pinstriped suit hung loose on his
bony frame. Saucer-shaped eyes looked up at Ruby, as a dry
tongue licked black teeth.
“Isn’t he a handsome fellow?” The children giggled, and then
they pushed the lid of the trunk back down and sat on it
with their arms folded. “Jeepers, look who I brought home,
ma. Wilcox Fisk.”
The man crawled along the path, stopping only to cup his
hand to his ear. From the way he was crawling along the
forest floor, Ruby wondered if someone had ripped the
muscles from the man’s legs
“Oh Mr. Fisk hasn’t lost anything.” The way they talked as
one unnerved Ruby. Their voices were crisp. “If you take a
closer look he has a scalpel in his hand and a rose in his
buttonhole. We believe that gentleman is out to woo.”
“Where’s he going?” she asked.
“Better be quick, he’s almost there.”
Wilcox Fisk was gone. A trail of slime led into the thick of
the forest. Jerry often accused her of being slow on the
uptake, today she would agree with him. Trees stretched
their roots to trip her up, branches grabbed at her clothes
and leaves fluttered about her eyes and scratched at her
hands as she tried to swat them away.
Thump-thump-thump pulsed louder with each step. Ruby picked
up her pace. Just as it seemed she was never going to find a
clearing, she fell into one. She spat out slime and dirt,
wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and picked
herself up.
Wilcox rapped at the door of a log cabin. Yellow light
issued from a window to his right.
The door jerked open. A thing with purple hair, sagging
breasts and a beard looked at the man with distaste.
“I have nothing to sell to you.” The thing said, then closed
the door.
Wilcox rapped at the door again. Slime oozed down his back,
and lay in a puddle at his feet. He cleared his throat. As
the door opened for a second time, Wilcox lodged his foot in
the gap.
“Go away. I’m closed for the holiday season.” A finger
scratched through the beard and picked out a dead bee.
“Okay, your persistence has won me over. I give in. Stand
well back though; my aim isn’t good over short distances.”
Having decided that the thing was a man, Ruby watched as he
pulled a bow and arrow out from between his breasts. They
emerged with a pop and his chest deflated. He then held the
middle finger of his right hand up, shook his head and
slapped his forehead. Without further hesitation, he turned
and disappeared into the cabin.
Ruby ran up to the cabin. Wilcox didn’t move, or blink, or
show any comprehension that they shared the same adventure.
She cupped her hands to the window.
An arrow tapped against jars that contained pulsating
hearts. Stuck to each jar were labels that curled to conceal
the owners’ names. Their thump trembled through her hand as
she rested it against the window. When he picked up a jar
and withdrew a medium sized heart, Ruby knew it was her
own. He skewered it onto the end of the arrow.
As the door of the cabin opened, she cried out. “Please
don’t.”
He twanged his bow and fired.
Wilcox opened his shirt to reveal a hole in his flesh. The
heart, her heart, pushed its way through his ribcage. He
then plucked out his own heart and passed it to Cupid.
“I don’t think so.” Ruby shook her head as he aimed.
Ruby Ash felt something wet hit her in the back as she
fell. It felt like a soaking sponge ball. She looked out
towards the playing fields. A man wearing a pinstriped suit
held out his hand to help her up.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“I feel a little dizzy,” she replied.
“I think you need a shot of caffeine. There’s a café across
the road. Oh, and my name is Wilcox Fisk.”
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