[Introduction: Melanie Stormm continues her humorous series of posts about the misdirected emails she’s been getting. Stormm is a multiracial writer who writes fiction, poetry, and audio theatre. Her novella, Last Poet of Wyrld’s End is available through Candlemark & Gleam. She is currently the editor at the SPECk, a monthly publication on speculative poetry by the SFPA.]

THE GLOOMY WOOD

TL;DR: Writer X and the demon Tryxy take a walk through the Gloomy Wood to beat the heat and get good selfies, but Tryxy’s perfectionism gets them lost.

Hello, All! Melanie here.

It’s the third year in a row in which extremities of weather in New England have been the main feature of summer rather than the backdrop.

Two years ago, New Hampshire was as hot as it’s ever been. Local appliance shops sold out of air conditioners and neighbors donned camouflage face paint, whittled spears, and hid in rhododendron bushes with the aim to ambush and abscond with some unsuspecting fool’s new AC unit.

Last year, it was the flood. I dug up some actual footage of my basement.

This year brings a bouquet of yo-yo temperatures, frequent lightning storms, and a spriggy flourish of…tornadoes.

This is all fine.

We all have our ways of coping with the weather, as does Writer X and Tryxy. 

Without further ado…

---

Subject: How Do You Like Them Apples?

Dear Gladys,

Did you catch the news about the Weregophers? Are they an invasive species or something?

ANyhoo, I’m sure you’re dying to know how my writing is going, especially since I’m a local celebrity. Well, I’m very well rested after my walk with Tryxy in the gloomy wood behind Local College. PLEASE TELL TRYXY I’M A LOCAL CELEBRITY. Not only did I win a flash fiction contest, I was interviewed on Mr. Morgan’s Podcast Emporium about whether I liked the new store brand chicken nuggets just last week!!!!!

THEY’RE SAWDUST, GLADYS!!!!

Only the popular kids know this, but it’s always twenty to thirty degrees cooler in the gloomy wood than it is everywhere else. Which is good. Because after our A/C broke and the HVAC guy got a restraining order against me, I wasn’t getting ANY writing done!!!!

IT IS STATISTICALLY IMPOSSIBLE TO BE A GENIUS IF YOUR FACE IS MELTING OFF!!!! How am I supposed to become the world’s next big epic fantasy writer when two liters of sweat is trickling down the backs of my thighs every five minutes???

We decided go to the glloomy wood three days ago before my boyfriend sent out that searching party. There’s nothing like walking through a cool gloomy wood to make you feel like you’re about to write the next bestselling horror novel, and Tryxy was excited because he’s doing everything for the ‘gram these days. The photos were a little tricky, and there’s a sign saying not to take them, but we got the hang of them. It’s totally fine!!!!!

Actually, I should probably tell you a little more so that you can know where to go. You know how there’s the Local College new campus with the state of the art facilities?? Don’t go there.

Go two miles south of the campus and you’ll see a weathered sign with cracked and peeling paint that reads “Help Me, Clementine,” in a shaky scrawl with ribbons of tattered crime scene tape blowing in the wind. THAT’S THE SPOT!!!!

Tryxy and I were seriously melting when we climbed out of the car. We couldn’t get into the gloomy wood fast enough!!! Mostly because we couldn’t find the trail entrance and there was a big DOT sign that said:

____________________

Gloomy Wood Forest Trails Guide:
Visitors are advised not to leave the marked trails at any time.
Use the designated entrance. It’s three miles downhill. 
Do not speak to anyone you see who is not in your party.
Do not feed anyone you meet. Ever.
Do not take food from anyone you meet. Ever.
Photos are not advised.
We can’t believe we have to say this, but move in the OPPOSITE direction of the screams.
Trust us.
We really mean it.
Moss grows on any damn side of the tree.
Thank you to those of you who got the Gloomy Wood repeated entries in the Darwin Awards.
Leave Clementine alone.

______________________

The trees around the parking lot were so thick with birches, red oaks, and aspen, we could hardly get over the treeline. Tryxy and I crashed around for about a half hour as branches and thorns tore at our faces and arms. Whatever the sign said, we were FINE BECAUSE IT WAS SIXTY FIVE DEGREES WHICH IS THE TEMPERATURE THE GODS INTENDED FOR WRITERS!!!!

As soon as we found the trail, Tryxy celebrated the occasion with a cute selfie. I look my best when I’m sweaty—my face is nice and hot pink—but Tryxy got super picky for some reason.

“This isn’t a good one,” he said.

“What do you mean, I look amazing????”

“Yes, but do you see the severed, bloody arm hanging from the branches behind our heads. It’s RUINING the photo.”

“No one cares about a bloody arm, Tryxy, it’s part of nature just like a misty lake!!!!! Look at my cheekbone definition!!!! That’s the cheekbone definition of the next big epic fantasy writer of all time!!!!”

“And that’s probably the severed arm of the last big epic fantasy writer of all time! Let’s try again. Only we’ll turn around and put the rocks behind us. It’ll be fun. Duck lips!”

So we turned around but this time a goat on roller skates photobombed us. Then we tried again but that’s when something bit Tryxy’s foot and we were pretty sure it was a weregopher but Tryxy was determined to get a good picture and that’s when things went south between us.

“You have several good pictures of me, why don’t you want to share any of them?”

Tryxy grumbled and said something about, “Let’s just keep going.”

Instagram is a cruel master, Galdsy. No matter what pic he took, there was always something Tryxy didn’t like about it. He had a double chin. He didn’t like the silhouette of a hanging man over his left shoulder. Or the disfigured tree that bled from every knothole was too bloody. Or my eyes were crossed.

“I just don’t understand why the photos you already have aren’t good enough!!! I’m hungry and starting to get cold,” I said.

“You don’t understand. A local celebrity liked one of my photos, and now I have a lot of pressure on my shoulders to perform.”

I was instantly stabbed in the heart. How could Tryxy call someone a local celebrity??? He never called ME a local celebrity!!!! We’ve been friends all these years and he never called me a local celebrity. I demanded to know who this so called local celebrity was.

“I don’t want you to get jealous.”

“WHO’S JEALOUS???? I’m a local celebrity.”

Tryxy pursed his lips but he couldn’t stop himself from shaking his head in disagreement.

“I am so!!! I won the local flash fiction contest last year!!!!! Stop shaking your head. IT’s true!!!”

“Yeah, but she does the school closures on the radio. I just feel like that’s more of a celebrity.”

I was fuming. I could see there was no reasoning with Tryxy.

Tryxy was chagrined but hellbent on getting his photo and marched us down one trail to the next and then forgot which trails we had taken so we were stuck looking for help. Lucky for us, someone was screaming!!!!!

We moved in the direction of the screams when we found a one-armed green haired woman who smelled like a swamp and had fresh beet juice running down her face and shoulders (that’s the only explanation GLADYS!!!!) and we asked her which trail would take us out of the wood.

She pointed deeper into the wood and screamed and we said thank you and Tryxy said, “Oh, if you’re looking for your other arm, I think you left it back that way.”

Meanwhile, Tryxy and I weren’t talking to each other. I was absolutely stunned at the fact that my own BFF thought I wasn’t local celebrity enough!!!! It turns out that was mostly my blood sugar because right about then we came across a big black tree full of black apples with a make shift sign that read: “Clementine’s Apples. Don’T Touch.”

Tryxy and I were both hungry so we looked over our shoulder to make sure the one armed lady wasn’t around and picked a few of the apples. I think the site of food lifted Tryxy’s spirits because he said: “You’re my best friend, and sometimes your ego is breathtaking.”

I gasped. No one had ever told me something so SWEET!!!!! “You think I”m breathtaking???”

Tryxy gave me a sweet smile and put the apples down long enough to hug me. “Yeah. You’re the best. ”

“You’re my best friend, too” I said.

“Let’s take a pic under the tree,” he said.

And we both passed out because the apples were delicious but slightly poisonous. I don’t remember anything beyond the first bite.

Fortunately, Tryxy uploaded the photo to instagram with geolocation on and my boyfriend was able to send a rescue party after us. We both woke up with search lights angled in our faces, feeling cool and well rested just this morning and then we heard the news on the radio about a weregopher sighting and somehow that made me remember that you really love apples.

Have you tried the black apples in the gloomy wood??? SO GOOD!!!!! Bring a pillow and a blanket!!!

But no, really, PLEASE TELL TRYXY I’M A CELEBRITY BUT MAKE IT LOOK LIKE IT WAS YOUR IDEA

Pages next week, Gladys!!!!

xox,

X

CLEMENTINE

SENDS

HER

LOVE.

AND

HER

RIGHT

ARM.

SHE’S A

LOCAL

CELEBRITY, TOO.