The Woman Of The Wood

Transcript

Hey. You there. Yes, you.

The key lead at the network. Come closer, won't you? Oh, what's wrong? Scared? But whatever for? It's perfectly safe.

Come into my forest and find out. Oh, you don't trust me? How rude.

Well, I can't force you. But if you want to come to me. ..

I'll have to come to you. So jumpy. Poor thing.

No need to be afraid. I have no intention of hurting you. Fair.

I don't blame your confusion. Mysterious woman just at the edge of your vision. Voice echoing deep in the forest.

I'd probably be nervous too. What am I? Oh, honey, don't worry about that.

I'd rather hear about you. Patience is a virtue. I will tell you everything you want to know.

But tell me more about yourself. This must be all so confusing, but. ..

Shh. No more questions. Be a good girl and do as I say.

There we go. Pretty, cute, and a fast learner. If possible, you're even cuter when you're shy.

One kiss on your forehead and you're as red as some of these leaves. I see you here often, staring deeper into the wood. Seeming like you're searching for something with purpose.

All with a melancholic look on that lovely face. Scribbling in that worn notebook until the sun sets. What, pray tell, are you working on? Is it a novel? A short story? Maybe a diary? Poems? Fascinating.

I just adore artists. My favourite people. Off in their own worlds.

Endless capacities for love, inspired by life in all its beauty and pain. Wonderfully dramatic. I'm only teasing.

I find artists… hmm, delectable. You could say they're my type. What were the poems about? I see.

You were drawn to the forest's edge by an eerie, ethereal voice. That, and glimpses of an otherworldly figure as you walked by. With those things and local legends of the Fair Folk, you just had to write about it.

Ah, another poor soul, reeled in like a fish on a fisherman's line. Nothing, sweetheart. Pay me no mind.

Those legends are based in truth. You see, I am one of those beings told about in myth and legend. I am one of the Fair Folk.

Say, I have a wonderful idea. You've spent so many days in quiet contemplation of my forest, wondering what lies within. If you take my hand, I can show you.

Oh, still this hesitation? You've heard the legends. If I wanted to harm you, I would have done so long ago.

Follow me into the wood, and I promise to take such good care of you. I wish to be entertained by your poetry of this woman of the wood. That's it.

Take my hand, sweetheart. Let me provide you with some more… inspiration. Ah, this clearing is my favourite.

My home isn't far, but I find bringing my mortal friends here is preferable. Well, I wouldn't want to make a mess. But enough of my past paramours.

All I want is you. Only you. Oh, such a lovely look in your eyes.

A little fear, curiosity, and want. I have a marvellous idea. Why don't you read me your work? The longing, the curiosity, the vivid descriptions of nature as the seasons change.

You bewitch me with each turn of phrase. You can have that effect on everyone who reads or hears your poems, books published of your work, accolades, maybe even the poet laureate. I've been alive for a very, very long time, and I've had the pleasure of meeting many mortals.

I know more about your civilisation than you'd expect. This is my offer. Every Samhain, you will come to the edge of my forest.

You'll spend one night with me, and come the dawn, your mind will be flooded with brilliant ideas and words to make the world weep. Glory is yours. All you have to do is to become mine.

Oh, eager? I knew I liked you. Come, sweet girl, and let me inspire you.

Strip down for me. I promise to keep you warm on this cold autumn night. Now, by the gods, you're breathtaking.

Mmm, I could just eat you alive. Lay back on the grass for me. Spread your legs so I can take in all of you.

Mmm, my, my. You're already wet, dear. I haven't even had the chance to touch you much.

Let me rectify that. Oh, no whining, little one. You will get the relief you crave.

But I savour my meals. Ah, that fear again. It's tinging your tone, and in your eyes.

Have I not gained your trust by now? What am I? Dear heart, I told you, I am one of the Fair Folk.

But, if you have to know a name, I am what the poet W.B. Yeats called Lan'an Shi. Vampire, succubus, muse.

All of these things I have been called. But I am Fae, and one who is more powerful and ancient than even the tallest of these trees. Please, let me take care of you.

The sight of you with teeth marks and hickeys on your thighs. Mmm, I may need more than just one night. Hold still.

I will be nothing but gentle. Oh, those moans. God's alive.

I could be addicted just from hearing them. Give me more, dearest. I need it.

Grab my head and use my mouth. We've made a deal. You will get the love, lust, and passion for life from me, and all that entails.

Oh, you seem like a lark when you're like that. But I do wonder if you can get even louder. How about if I add two fingers to start? Two fingers to feel you around them and stretch you out.

Tell me, dearest one, if you want that. As you wish. I'll put them in slowly.

But give me a moment. I want to see you when I put them in. And you've only seen my mortal guise.

To fulfill our bargain, especially on Samhain. When the veil between our worlds is the thinnest. I want you to see how I truly am.

Faye may seem human, but we are not. Does this upset you? Fine.

I'll answer one more question about myself. One more. But I won't stop.

Feeling your wetness on my fingers is so tempting. Fuck. I can't wait to be inside you.

But I'm getting off track. You see, not all Faye are malevolent. Not even that mischievous.

Many wish to live and be left alone. For me, that's mostly true too. But not entirely.

Feeling you around me is maddening. May I move my fingers faster? I didn't lie.

I love artists. But often, I bring men here. I take them as my lovers and inflame their passions for art and life.

But they return to me wanting more. When they do, I kill them. Their blood grants me life eternal.

I feast on it to keep me young. I don't do this to women, though. Women are a fine vintage to cherish.

Their talent's not theirs forever. It comes from the gods of the ancient wood. The primordial force of earth, sky, and sea.

And what is borrowed must be returned. I planned to do the same to you. But even as I show you my form and tell you what I am, you don't shy from me.

And this is why I'll savour you. The gifts of the gods are yours to wield, so long as you keep up the bargain. Now please, little one, I can feel you fluttering around my fingers.

When I hear the sweet song of your moans in my ears, I know you're close. When you come, swear it. Swear in this cold grove, among colours of gold, red, and orange, you'll return here.

When the veil is thinnest, you'll be my lover again.