SCRIPT

SShhh...

Can you hear it? 

The Earth beneath your feet,

Breathing in and out, up and down.

Millions of communications surround you,

Yet you hear nothing.

The silence of the world is deafening, 

We scream as we are born, for everything is new,

But before long, this ambient sound of Earth,

Is something we feel safe among.

Something we forget. 

We lose touch with the world we are a part of, 

Lose touch with ourselves, 

Taking for granted all that makes our lives possible,

Not respecting all that goes unheard.

So listen.

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A raised voice from the living room. 

You're sitting on the stairs. 

Arms wrapped around your knees, 

Your face nestled in them. 

The light from the room bleeding out into the hallway.

The raised voice isn't new, and neither is the silent presence there.

Your father- not defending you.

This isn't new.

“Behave yourself child!”

Are the only words she seems to say to you.

“Just do as she says” is his only contribution.

Your Mother was warm, 

Your Step-mother is cold.

She invaded!

She made rules!

She’s cruel!

You hear the argument coming to a close as your father continues to avoid the conflict.

Ever so quietly you stand, and begin to dance your way up the stairs avoiding each creak and murmur they make.

You’re going to run away. 

Light trickles its way to the forest floor, bouncing from leaf to leaf, leaving them sun kissed and glistening with morning dew. Your eyes squint when you walk through a beam, but your skin relishes the warmth as you've walked all night long.

With each blink your eyes grow heavier, the shine of the sun fusing them shut. Never before have your feet hurt so much, all you want is to sleep- but not yet, you’re not there yet.

Fond memories come to mind of summers spent playing in the old abandoned cabin- your own special hide away- which will once again shelter you from the hardships of your reality. 

Unfortunately, that wicked woman convinced your father to move house last year and the cabin is now still another day's walk away. At the thought of more walking your knees wobble and your legs begin to give way entirely. Folding slightly to the floor your mind tells you one thing- loud and clear: water.

Full of adrenaline the night before, a packed lunch wasn’t really a priority- the focus was more on how cool you felt hanging from a bed sheet rope you’d made to abseil down from your window. You really did look cool, but god at what cost, speaking is near impossible- after just over ten hours of silence the only sound coming from you is a low screech, swallowing momentarily helps but your throat feels like clean jeans just taken off the line- stiff and dry. 

Forget the cabin, for now all that matters is finding a water source or some kind and food if possible. Food. You’ve never been taught to forage or hunt- you’re going to starve… .... no,no, you can do what bears do right, just stand in the middle of the river and grab the fish- it can't be that hard…

Let’s just find water first.

Your prayers are answered by a rustling in a tree overhead. A lark pokes its head from the leaves and glides down to a tree stump in front of you. It cocks its head and jumps slightly forward.

Pushing up from the ground the lark flies in a spiral upwards, circling around your own head, before flying off beyond. 

Your mother taught you the names of many of the birds common to the area-

It's back.

The lark lands at your feet and looks up at you expectedly.

*voice crack* "What?"

The lark chirps some more before flying off in the same direction as before. 

Can it tell how thirsty you are?

*shakes head* surely not

*considers* no…

The lark once again circles you and flies off to the same place.

Yeah, you're going to follow the lark. 

The trees part - maybe in the wind, maybe moved by a greater force… As you move forward you are able to see what they have revealed. Directly opposite you is a glistening waterfall, as if moving in slow motion the water glides down smoothly into the pond below. It makes a low hushing sound, beckoning you forward. But each step you take seems to make no progress forward, you stand exactly where you began. 

The rippling pond teases you with its dance in the breeze. You try to run to the water. Crawl to the water. Yet still you stand with trees looming at your back.

‘There is only one way to reach the water, child.’ 

‘Who are you? Where are you?’

‘Do you want to reach the water?’

‘Yes! But each step I take moves me no further.’

‘Because I have not granted you passage.’

‘What? I don’t understand’

‘I am a forest spirit. In order to drink from my waters you must agree to my terms.’

‘What are your terms?’

‘You must live your life as nature intended. Living untrue to yourself and others, will only bring you more pain. You did well to run away, but do not fool yourself by thinking you are running towards something. You must face it. Do you agree to live your life true?’

‘I agree.’ you say as you begin to be able to smell the water in front of you. 

‘Then you may drink to your heart's content.’

Wondering only for a second if that was it, you have sprinted to the water's edge, as if afraid the spirit would snatch you back as a cruel trick.

After you quench your thirst you look down to your hands, which not only have begun to tingle, but appear to be glowing.

‘What is happening? Spirit! What have you done to me?’

‘I have done nothing.’ you hear from all around you

‘Please! What is happening to me?’

Both the tingling and the glowing white light emanating from you is spreading throughout your whole body, following the water’s journey from hand to mouth to stomach.

As it progresses to more and more of you, the light becomes almost blinding.

You close your eyes from the pain, and curl up in fear as tears begin to stream down your face. A child, alone in a strange place. 

‘This is who you are, child. A fawn. Within a year- a great and beautiful stag. 

When you wake you are no longer by the water or the spirit, but nestled in a bush along a rough path. You’ve no idea how much time has passed- but you must find the cabin before nightfall. 

As you rise to your feet the world falls back down again- you’re on the floor. 

The bright light… the spirit… *spin around*       Y-you’re a deer- a baby deer! *stands up* 

*wobbles to the ground again* 

*stand up and begin to walk around the space inspecting it closely*

As the breeze sweeps through your hair, and your ears involuntarily twitch with each new sound.

Your steps become steadier.

Your stride, more confident.

Until you're sprinting down the path. 

You’re running- galloping? Through the forest, effortlessly dodging brambles and sticks on the ground which would have normally tripped you up. The world around you seems to communicate, in an ancient unspoken language, you instinctively know so much, can preempt the flick of a leaf in the breeze, avoiding it before it flaps in your face. 

Everything seems so bright and energetic, your senses are all heightened- not overwhelming but comforting. The forest surrounds you. Includes you. Yes. You are no longer a visitor to this forest but part of its world. You have a place in the ecosystem, a place in this cycle of life.  

Before long your new four legs have made up for lost time and you reach the cabin. 

Built many decades ago by two young lovers, this cabin has never needed repair... as if still inhabited by the couple. Vines and flowers grow up the walls, birds nests line the roof, and apples hang from the trees immediately surrounding the garden, but they don't make it look overrun or old, they make it look alive and they seem to belong there. 

You will belong there now. 

The night you ran away, neither your father nor step mother noticed you were missing. Come morning your father left in the early hours for work thinking you were still asleep, then in the evening your stepmother claimed you to be contagiously sick in order to keep your disappearance secret for some time longer. 

All the while concocting a plan to hunt you down. She gathered up a map of the forest and set out the next day- having tied your father to the bed in his sleep, preventing him from interfering. 

When he came to, and realised his predicament he shouted and shouted, but nobody came. He was helpless. An overwhelming wave of guilt and shame weighed him down for much time. The loss of his wife had torn a piece of him away, making him weak and susceptible to the manipulations of the wicked woman. But once you realise what shackles you- it can set you free in more ways than one.

For the whole year she hunts you, 

Burning your home, 

Destroying its life,

All to control you once more.

But blind despair controls her, she does not see all that she has and will lose.

And you have grown.

Once a scared little fawn,

Now you stand as a grand young stag.

Pure white, with striking black antlers, speckles of stars within.

You walk with all that you were, and all that surrounds you.

Free and strong, you watch her when she comes to the forest.

Until one night.

For all these months you have evaded her sight, for while she would not expect you to be a stag, she may still hunt a beautiful pure white animal, for it is unfamiliar and therefore a threat.

But tonight.

Tonight she is angry, and tonight you are ready to end this.

She is scratching at trees, marking down where she has been and when.

You approach, making no sound.

Your ear twitches with each word she mutters under her breath.

She is angry because your father escaped, *to audience* escaped?  

Your eyes meet.

As you look at her, you realise you had never actually looked in her eyes. They’re brown- almost black. Your mother’s were a beautiful green, like leaves on a tree- positively glowing in the light.

The wicked woman’s arms raise and she holds out an aimed bow and arrow.

You stand tall, she is too far to get a fatal shot- but she doesn’t know that. 

Whistling through the air the arrow flies towards you, it falls over the course of its journey slightly and pierces you in the leg. Shouldn’t underestimate the focus of a woman on the edge of sanity.

But equally do not underestimate the power of The Enchanted Stag.

As the first drop of blood reaches the forest floor, the ground beneath the wicked woman caves in. Shrieks follow her as she sinks downwards. 

As her arms flail, you drop to your knees. While not fatal, the injury certainly prevents you from walking. 

Closing your eyes you concentrate on the pulsing lives around you, each one connected to the next, each tree talking to another, each worm navigating by fungi. The trees reach out to you, fusing their branches with your antlers- they begin to glow white and dazzle. 

With a loud rustling sound, the forest around you moves, and you are once again by the waterfall and pond of the Spirit.

On the other side lies a man. 

Your Father.