The Boy Who Cried Wolf

Way Down

Teddy Glover sat on the banks of a stream as it passed through the forest with his knees propped up to his chest and his shoes planted firmly in the round stones. He let his head fall onto his knees as a brisk breeze brushed across his cheeks and cautioned him against trying to touch the water. Instead, he fixed his gaze to the sparkling water as it glinted in the midday sun.

He'd gone to the forest to do something but he'd grown tired and stopped to sit down and gather his thoughts. Somehow in that time– that time to gather his thoughts– he'd managed to forget what he'd been doing originally. Teddy's mind was always scattered with a million thoughts and sometimes he neglected the ones he was meant to be focused on. Teddy hated that he was forgetful, it was one of his least favorite parts of himself, but he simply couldn't get his mind to keep track of what was and wasn't important.

Under the emerald green canopy cast by the tall aging oak trees that lined his way, the boy allowed his mind to wander and attempted to steady his breath. He'd been walking in the forest for a while, and surely had enough time to sit a moment. It was a chilly day, he thought, but not quite chilly enough to lure Teddy home before he figured out what he was meant to do. Being in the woods was a wonderful feeling to Teddy, he enjoyed his solitude far too much; being in his own company he could finally think things through clearly. It was a moment, one of few, to drink in the silence and absorb the calm energy emanating from the water.

As he let the water hypnotize him into that place between sleep and awake his problems didn't feel quite so heavy as they had before. It was a simple headspace, like a child running gaily without care over hills and brambles enchanted by every passing tree. Teddy loved everything about the forest. He loved the smell of the trees, the feel of the leaves as they crunched beneath his boots, the quiet of the wind, more than anything he loved the person he could be when he was alone. It was like everything in the world was put to right. Nobody was there to appeal to, nobody to disappoint.

In his childhood he'd spent hours crafting foot-trails and running through the shaded woods during the summers. Often resigned to himself, the boy had many such lovely afternoons. When he had nobody else the wise old trees were his truest companions.

He knew where the moss grew, how the ground became more treaded and packed down when he was nearing the town, and how to read the underbrush for his own previous steps. Navigating an abandoned forest was not a skill many people were jealous of, but it was the only one Teddy would credit himself as having. He'd learned to navigate the woods all on his own after getting lost a few times as a child. He was a quick learner, and he enjoyed the subject.

Teddy's home, not far from the outskirts of the forest, was a small town where he could rarely ever catch a moment to himself. It was called Belford Bay, and it was built into the cliffs of an inlet harbor. There, Teddy lived in a small parish rectory with a priest and his aunt, a senile old nun, who'd taken him in when he was just a baby. As the child of the priest, everybody knew Teddy, they'd watched him grow up... and now they watched for him to make a mistake.

Teddy shook his head trying to clear it of his thoughts. Letting himself worry about all the things he could be doing at home was useless. He rarely could steal away a moment to clear his head, and worrying just like he always did wasn't any help with that. Various thoughts drifted in and out of his focus in a random sequence. It was colder in the forest than in town, where the sun could warm the cobblestone streets of the Massachusetts fishing town. Usually Autumn wasn't freezing, but Teddy could clearly feel the distant threat of a dark winter in the air that made his cheeks flushed and rosy. Fall was Teddy's favorite season in the forest. He loved the way the leaves fell lazily down to the ground, carpeting it in their warm hues.

As Teddy watched a particularly scarlet leaf drift to the ground he was reminded of his own red sweater which he'd meant to grab from his desk chair but forgotten before going out. He had figured he wouldn't need it, but in the thick of things he longed for the comforting warmth it provided. Fr. Charles had bought him the sweater, and he didn't wear it nearly enough... which made him feel ungrateful. It was one of the few new clothing items Teddy owned and the boy was fond of it, yet he worried Fr. Charles might think the whole thing was a waste.