Beyond the Forest

She smiled a toothless grin and nodded as if she understood, then gestured for Andrei and leaned toward him as he translated for her.

I took a seat at the wooden table, which appeared to have been handmade from planks from an old barn, as Adriana started to prepare dinner and Andrei reached into a cupboard and pulled out a bottle.

He poured four glasses, and as he handed one to his grandmother her eyes sparkled in anticipation.

"It is pálinka," Andrei said, "a traditional Hungarian fruit brandy."

He gave a quick salute in his native tongue, welcoming me to their home, and then the four of us drank. I shot the contents of my glass and grimaced as the fiery liquid scorched my throat. The three of them laughed as I coughed uncontrollably.

"You are supposed to sip it!" Andrei said, as I shook my head, trying to regain my senses as the warmth from the powerful concoction rippled through me.

As he leaned forward to refill my glass, I said, "Do you think your friend, Adriana, might have ever heard of Matusa Ildiko?"

As soon as I said the name, his grandmother glanced up from her brandy and said, "Ce este sta?"

Andrei told her what I'd said and her face came alive with excitement. She reached across the table to squeeze my hand and started talking rapidly in Romanian. As she spoke, he translated.

"She says that Matusa Ildiko is a powerful witch, and a terrible source of retribution. She says that if a woman thinks her husband has been unfaithful, she prays to the witch and tells her to come visit him in his sleep.

"Of course, if she is wrong the witch will not come. But if the husband has truly been unfaithful, he will never wake again. Matusa Ildiko will ride him in his dreams until he is dead."

I suddenly felt dizzy and wasn't sure if it was from her story or the brandy. I wasn't sure what I'd expected to find, but it certainly wasn't anything like what she was describing.

"Does your grandmother know anything else, like where she can be found?"

Andrei shook his head. "You do not understand. Matusa Ildiko is not real. She is a legend...a fable. The story my bunica is telling you is an old wives' tale, designed to keep faithless husbands from straying too far."

Adriana, who'd been listening to the conversation as she chopped carrots and turnips on the sideboard, joined in. "Yes, a fable! Now I remember where I've heard that name."

I listened as she explained that she'd read of Matusa Ildiko when she was a young girl, in a book of fairy tales and legends written by Benedek Elek, who apparently was Transylvania's most famous storyteller. But he'd published his book more than a century earlier. The Matusa Ildiko he'd written of had to be long dead.

"But the gypsy said I'd find her here, right here in Magura. Maybe there's some other witch nearby who has taken her name?"

"There is no one else by that name," Andrei said. "I am afraid this gypsy you speak of has sent you on a fool's errand. Perhaps she read the same book that Adriana did and found the name there?"

My shoulders slumped as I twisted my wedding ring. Had I been a fool to listen to the gypsy's words? Had I raced halfway around the world only to discover I was chasing a phantom from a storybook?

Andrei's grandmother saw me playing with my ring and smiled a toothless smile, cackling with laughter as she babbled.

"She sees you are married," Adriana said. "She says she hopes you are a good husband, or Matusa Ildiko will come and visit you."

Was I a good husband? My wife was back home in the States on her deathbed and I was in Transylvania clutching at straws, chasing after a fairy tale and foolishly thinking that somehow it could help her.

The gypsy who'd appeared at her bedside had made it all sound so believable. Travel to the village of Magura and find the witch Matusa Ildiko. Only then will you and your wife be together again.

That was all I wanted, just to be together with her again. To wake up in the morning in our own bed, sleeping on my side with her curled up in front of me. To press my face into her soft blonde hair and lose myself in it, and hear her giggle when my nose tickles her neck and have her try to move away from me, only to have me wrap my arm around her waist and pull her back. And to feel her wrap her arm around mine as I hold her close, surrendering herself to me as I kiss her softly behind her ear and whisper that she's mine, always to have her whisper back forever.

The memory of it filled my senses and sadness overwhelmed me. "I think I'm gonna go to bed."

"You will not eat dinner?" Andrei said.

I shook my head. "I'm not hungry. I'm just tired, really tired."

"Yes, of course. Let me show you to your room and you can get some rest. Tomorrow we will get up early and start the tour. The beauty of the Carpathians will make you forget all about your witch."

I nodded but I knew there would be no tour. As soon as I was rested I had to get back to Sibiu, back on a plane to the States. I'd been a fool to leave in the first place, a fool to think that there could be any truth in what the gypsy had said. I knew it was desperation that had made me believe, but now I had to make amends. I had to hurry back to my wife's side, even if only to say goodbye.

The room and bed were small, but they were all I needed. I stripped down to my boxers and t-shirt, crawled under the quilt and closed my eyes as the last rays of the autumn sun faded behind the village's mountain backdrop.

* * *

When I opened my eyes again the room was dark and the house was silent. I was lying face down on the bed, and it took me a second to realize the quilt that had been covering me was gone. Thinking it must have fallen off while I was sleeping, I groped blindly toward the darkness beside the bed.

And that was when I felt it...a chill, an unnatural cold which sent a shiver through me as soon as I felt its touch. A shiver that unlocked the doors of memory and released a remembrance of the last time I'd felt it: the ominous chill that told me a red-haired boy was crouched in the darkness at the foot of my bed, waiting for me to wake up.

I squeezed my eyes shut, just like I'd done when I was little and thought I could wish myself back to sleep. But this time I was praying, praying that this was just a dream I'd soon wake up from. As if in answer to my prayers, a nightmarish sound whispered through the dark. The sound of the floorboards creaking as something moved toward me from the foot of the bed.

I tried to turn my head to look, though terrified of what I might see, but a nameless fear had paralyzed me like an invisible weight pinning me to the bed, stopping me from seeing who -- or what -- was coming. All I could do was moan, a weak fear-filled moan that pleaded for the thing in the dark to go away and leave me alone.

And then I sensed its weight, felt the mattress sink and heard the springs groan as something crawled onto the bed behind me. I felt its hot breath on my neck as an odor like freshly turned earth, tinged with the sweet tang of dead, decaying leaves, filled my nostrils.

Terror filled me as I tried to will myself awake, knowing this had to be a nightmare. And then the thing moved on top of me. I felt its weight press me into the mattress, its skin cold and damp against my fevered flesh as it pinned me down, its long, stringy hair dragging across my shoulder blades as it moved up my body, scraping its long, claw-like fingernails along my side.

I could sense its mouth opening as it hovered above my neck, and then a ghostly voice hissed in my ear, "Who dreams of me?"

Her voice sounded like an echo whispered across the centuries, but I couldn't answer. I couldn't move, let alone talk, as the cool weight of her naked body pressed me deeper into the mattress. I tried to turn my head, tried to see her face, but I was helpless as she traced her fingernails back down along my hip. And as she did, I became dimly aware of her firm breasts, crushed against my back, and her soft lips as they brushed against my ear.

"Who dreams of me?" she whispered again, as her fingernails snuck under the waistband of my boxers and her hand slipped beneath me.

I tried to answer, but all that escaped me was another moan as her cool hand wrapped around my stiff length. For the first time I realized how hard I was and heard her sigh in my ear as she slowly stroked her hand back and forth, savoring my size.

I groaned as she tightened her grip and started to jack me even faster, and for a third time she whispered, "Who dreams of me?"

But I still couldn't answer, no matter how desperately I wanted to. All I could do was lie there helplessly, pinned beneath her as she pumped her fist up and down my swollen length. I felt her hot breath on my neck, her breath coming quicker as she stroked me faster, pushing me toward the edge.

I moaned, and with one final effort tried to twist my head around, tried to see her face. But she gently bit my ear, stopping me, the tender flesh trapped between her teeth as she finished what she'd started, her hand a blur on my stiff shaft.

It had been so long since I'd been touched like that, and the only touch I'd ever known had been my wife's. She was the only woman I'd ever been with and as I closed my eyes I imagined it was her caressing me, stroking me, and I remembered how her hair would smell in the morning as she dangled it in my face, brushing it back and forth and tickling my nose as she tried to wake me up...wake me up.

"Wake up!"

I sat bolt upright in the bed, my wife's voice still echoing in my ears. I was all alone. There was no one else in the room. It had all been a dream.

I stood up, trying to clear my head as I looked out the window. It was still dark outside, but I could tell it would be dawn soon. And as I stared out into the darkness, I couldn't stop thinking about the dream and how real it had seemed. My cock was still painfully stiff, and when I closed my eyes it seemed as if I could still feel her teeth, biting my ear.

I reached up to touch it and was surprised when it stung. I pulled my hand away and was shocked to see blood. My heart skipped; it hadn't been a dream.

Her haunting voice echoed through my memory. Who dreams of me?

And then I remembered Andrei's grandmother, warning me that Matusa Ildiko would visit me in my dreams. Had the witch I'd come here to find found me instead? And if so, where was she now?

Then I heard a noise. A groan, or maybe a moan, faint but growing louder. It was coming from Andrei's room down the hall and I wondered if the creature that had been in my room was there now.

I opened my door and tiptoed down the hall, listening to the noises growing louder. When I reached Andrei's door I pressed my ear against it, and heard a steady stream of moans emanating from within.

I rapped lightly on the door and whispered, "Andrei? Are you okay?"

The room went silent, and then I heard a thump and a bang on the other side. A moment later the door opened and Andrei, obviously naked, peeked out from behind. "Yes, my friend, is something wrong?"

I glanced in the room and blushed with embarrassment as I spotted his neighbor, Adriana, bare shouldered as she pulled up the blanket and flashed me an apologetic smile from his bed.

"No," I said, "nothing's wrong."

He glanced back at Adriana. "I apologize if we woke you. I know it is early, but it is usually best for all if she is headed back home before my bunica wakes up."

"Of course," I whispered. "I just had this..." My voice trailed off. How could I tell them what had just happened to me or, should I say, what I thought had just happened to me? I apologized for disturbing them and, as he smiled in thanks and shut the door, headed back to my bedroom.

I lay there awake in my bed, watching the darkness outside slowly lighten as dawn approached. I heard the soft, rhythmic squeaking of bedsprings from Andrei's room as he and Adriana resumed their lovemaking, and the thought of the two of them together made my heart ache even more to be back at my wife's side again. And then I heard a strange sound below, a creaking as the front door downstairs slowly opened.

I crept to the window and looked out. Someone or something was leaving the house. I could barely make it out as the first rays of dawn crawled over the mountains to the east, but I could see the creature was hunched over and draped in a black, funereal shroud.

Now I knew for sure it hadn't been a dream. The witch had found me just as the gypsy had promised. I ran down the hall and banged on Andrei's door again. He hurried to answer it and I saw Adriana over his shoulder, wearing a frustrated look as she hid her naked body once more beneath the blankets.

"What is it?" he whispered, his voice tinged with a similar frustration.

"I should have told you before, but...something was in my room earlier."

He narrowed his eyes in disbelief. "What are you talking about? You must have had some kind of nightmare."

"No, I swear, something was in my room! And I just saw it going out the front door."

He glanced back at Adriana, concern obvious in her eyes as he hurried to pull his pants on. "I knew I forgot to lock the door," he said, and I moved out of his way as he pushed past me and ran down the hallway.

I chased after him, following as he ran downstairs shirtless and in his bare feet. The door was still ajar and he raced through it, out into the pre-dawn darkness. I hurried after him and as I searched in the direction the creature had gone I spotted it, shuffling toward the forest.

"There!" I hissed, and before I could stop Andrei he sprinted toward the cloaked figure. I chased after him, our bare feet crunching the frosted grass beneath our feet, and when he reached her he grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.

"Bunica!" he whispered, as the old woman looked between the two of us, blinking in confusion.

She had a black scarf over her head and a black shawl wrapped around her. There was a bundle in her arms and Andrei took it, opening it to reveal half a loaf of bread and a chunk of sausage inside. Shaking his head, he wrapped it back up and put his arm around her shoulder to steer her back home.

"I am sorry she woke you," he said to me, as he guided his grandmother back toward the cottage where Adriana, now dressed, was waiting by the front door.

"But where was she going at this time of the morning?" I asked. "And what is the food for?"

"Who knows? Probably thinks she was going on a picnic. The stroke she had has caused her dementia and she often wanders the hallways at night. She must have wandered into your room and woke you. Again, I am sorry."

"It's fine," I said, but I knew there was no way this harmless old woman had been my nighttime visitor.

When we neared the door Adriana hurried out to wrap a blanket around Andrei's grandmother's hunched shoulders. Seeing the bundle of food, she asked her in Romanian where she'd been going. Her answer caught them both by surprise.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing," Andrei said, as he led his grandmother into the house and went to make some coffee. "It's just...she's confused by what we were talking about yesterday, getting all mixed up."

"What do you mean?"

He glanced at me and said, "You must remember, the dementia makes her mind play tricks on her. She gets very mixed up."

"I don't understand."

"She said that she was taking the food to the woods...to Matusa Ildiko. She said that last night when she was looking out the kitchen window, before she went to bed, she saw a girl that she calls 'the witch's servant', standing at the edge of the woods and watching our house."

I sat up in surprise. Could that be who'd visited me?

Andrei saw my reaction and held up a hand to stop me from getting carried away. "Please understand that all of this is only happening in her mind. For instance, she often thinks she hears music outside and insists the band is back, playing on the bandstand, but the bandstand burned down more than seventy years ago. There was no girl at the edge of the woods and there is no witch called Matusa Ildiko."

As soon as he spoke her name, the old woman turned toward me and started chatting animatedly in Romanian.

"What is she saying?" I asked.

This time Adriana translated. "She insists that this girl saved her life many years ago and that she still lives in the forest. There is a circle of stones in the woods where she says women leave offerings to Matusa Ildiko. She was taking the food there so this girl wouldn't be hungry."

I turned to Andrei. "Do you know where these stones are?"

"Please," he said, "these are old wives' tales. None of this is -- "

"Do you know where the stones are?!" I shouted.

He took a step back, startled by my outburst. "Yes....yes, I know where they are."

"Then take me there...please." I tried to calm myself down, and apologized for raising my voice, but I knew there had to be a connection between my visit during the night and the old woman's tale. Time was running out for me and I knew that, if what the gypsy woman had said was true, this stone circle might be my only hope of locating the witch I'd come here to find and saving my wife's life.

* * *

An hour later we were on our way. Adriana was with us and her mother was back at the cottage, taking care of Andrei's grandmother.

Andrei had wanted to proceed with his planned nature tour, but I'd insisted he take me to the circle of stones. He led us across the rolling pastures and down into a valley and, as we headed up out of it toward a stand of beech trees, already dressed in resplendent autumn gold, I realized I was getting the tour anyway.

We hiked through the old-growth forest, a mixture of beech, spruce and fir trees, with the massive, jagged limestone ridge of Piatra Craiului towering above us. Autumn had a firm grip on the forest, its colors everywhere, but the cold shadows stretching beneath the canopy warned us that winter would soon be there.

"I wish you could see this place in the spring," Andrei said, as we wandered into a high alpine meadow and caught the scent of juniper, "the wildflowers are a wonder to behold!"

I listened as he carried on, a sparkle in his eyes and excitement in his voice as he described the lynx, deer and wild boars that still populated the ancient, unspoiled woodlands around us, one of the last remaining wild spaces in Europe, and told me of the great brown bears and packs of wolves that still roamed free in the more isolated corners of the forest.

I listened as he told me of the strange and mysterious beauty of the ancient forests of Transylvania, a beauty that had inspired the myths and stories of supernatural beings and monsters that were now synonymous with the region. He described lonely forest glades, fit only for fairy folk on moonlit nights; isolated lakes where water sprites dwelled; and deep, mysterious caverns, whose depths were said to harbor hordes of evil spirits.

I could tell by the smile on his face he was proud of this place, proud of his home, but I had no time to enjoy the scenery or his stories. "When will we reach the stones?" I asked.

The smile faded from his face. "I don't know what you think you will find there, my friend, but you will be disappointed if you think you are going to find your witch. I have already told you that my bunica's mind...it plays tricks on her.

"The girl she swears she saw last night? She told me that the last time she had seen her was nearly seventy years ago. Her mind...it is like a book that has had its pages torn away...she can remember clearly things that happened during the war, but cannot tell you what she had for breakfast. The girl she thinks she saw, even if she ever really did exist, is now nothing more than a memory."