The Consequence of Imagination

By Alexandriana Davis

I lugged my bag through the front door, feeling the exhaustion from work consuming me. For a moment, as I took the heels off my aching feet and imagined the warmth of my bed, I felt a wave of relief. Finally, I was at my place of rest. 

That wave didn’t last long, however. My little girl running up through the door behind me, asking what is for dinner, served as my reminder that I do not have the luxury of going to sleep just yet.  

“Oh, darling, I was thinking of making some homemade soup from our garden. How does that sound?”

She jumped up and down excitedly. “Okay! Can I help?”

I smiled. “Of course, dear.”

We walked back to our modest kitchen sink, where my daughter and I washed our hands. I then followed her out to the backyard, where tomatoes, carrots, peppers, and more were ripening. The sun had already set, but there were still lingering purple and orange hues resting above the trees that formed the forest around us.

My daughter immediately went to work collecting vegetables, so I took a moment to sit down on the grass. I became aware of how sore my body was as I went to sit down.  The tolls of employment grew every day.

I stared out into the night. A peaceful breeze blew past, and I felt a longing for a life where my reality was this at all times of the day. Where my daughter and I could make homemade jelly together, and connect with the nature beneath our feet. A reality where I could write poetry, find a community of other artists, and live passionately and creatively always. To exist in a place where my body could feel full and healed.

Unfortunately, as with all daydreams, this was just a wish, a figment of my imagination. I knew that world could never exist as long as work consumed my life.

This obvious drawback brought me from my daydream back to the real world. My eyes readjusted to the starry night sky. I looked around for my daughter, who I swear was just picking tomatoes a minute ago. In my daydream haze, I seemed to have forgotten my responsibilities as a single mother. I spotted my daughter’s basket of vegetables not far from me, but she was nowhere to be found.

Frantic, I stood up. “Em?  Em, where are you?” I sprinted as fast as I could around the house. I kept thinking to myself This could not be happening. 

Finally, I spotted her. Em was walking into the woods, talking out loud. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, nor who she was talking to. I sensed someone else was present.

I ran after her, following her deep into the woods. I could barely see her in the darkness of the night. Her voice rang out, almost taunting me with each step.

“Em? Em?”

After running through the trees and tripping over foliage with no success, I saw a form of light and traced it into a clearing. The moon shone brightly around me, and I felt my eyes adjusting again.

Looking around, Em was nowhere to be found. I called her name, and silence whispered back. Shivers ran down my spine.

I had never been this far into the woods before. The clearing seemed almost intentional, but I wasn’t sure what for. A large maple tree stood at the edge, beckoning. Upon further inspection, the tree had a gaping hole fit for a small human. When I approached it, I saw the remnants of a carrot Em must have been munching on resting at the base of the tree.

I called Em’s name again. With no response, I became certain the tree had swallowed her whole.  

I wasn’t sure what to do. This whole scenario seemed so perplexing, yet I did not have time to question what was going on. My daughter was missing. 

Looking around one last time, I crouched down near the roots of the tree. I felt like the world was collapsing around me, and yet, as always, I had to keep pushing through.

Wriggling my way through the opening in the tree, I found myself crawling further and further. Little did I know that in searching for Em, I was about to discover another world.