The Hollow's Loose Grove
By: Amanda Judge
Pronouns: She/they
Amanda Judge is an English and Psychology major pursuing the creative writing field as well as cognitive and/or developmental psychology. She grew up around TinkerBell, where everything was just shy of having a smaller meaning; she was able to lose herself in this world and ignore all the other horrors thrown her way by the playground or even her own household. It was nothing short of magic (or dissociation!), but regardless, Pixie Hollow was always there for her, and it’s time she pays her respects.
Rain trickles down in a silent grove,
a black shadow at my side,
leading me adrift.
But curiosity piques and advises me
elsewhere. An alcove?
It’s consumed by the mist, where
I peer inside– I am greeted by
a hair-rising chime.
A blood-curdling region that the shadow
advises me to ignore.
She squeaks her favorite tune!
A small creaky meow leaking from her lips;
just for her to turn back and herd me
towards the meadow, like she originally intended.
Leading me towards the well-cared for tree
oozing golden-dust!
Leading me towards the heart where
the four seasons converge!
Leading me away from the alcove?
Its small pixies fluttering around,
greeting me with their delightful wisps.
But I can’t help but wonder…
What is truly encompassed?
What is beyond those vines that encage
the banshee that sent shivers down my spine?
Why was I advised to ignore?
But! Oo, how delightful!
The nymphs and sprites dance blissfully
in the sun’s showers as they warble for
me to come join them.
They prance, they prowl, but my head pounces back
towards nook I am so curious for.
The shadow shines her delicate squeak:
“Do not go near, my dear, for one day you will fear
the day you reach that frontier.”
I tilt my head in confusion.
I don’t understand! What is there to fear?
“That place..” she shudders. “is lackluster
of all cheer! That is not what you appear
to need today my dear.”
She is right, as I know.
They hold my hand and cover me in the
golden-dust from the tree!
My body begins to float free,
glistening with glee as the laughter
aburst from my new Neverland!
Rain trickles down in a silent grove
except I still wonder who grows
beyond the Hollow where the
dreary’s acclamation brews.
They said I shall reach there in time,
but what will time permit?
Does the pixie-dust roll over or does it diminish?
Will the timekeeper force my trade of riches
for answers? Or am I an exception?
I seek for more.
Rain trickles down in a silent grove,
only it grows a vague grumble as I
reach the alcove.
Splitting the vines, I peer inside.
The rocks building the threshold
from scratch, with notches or scores
painting themselves longways.
Next to each, they have these symbols:
AGE-2
AGE-6
AGE-8
And they climb each year by twos.
The engravings climb the rock wall
with each increasing number, then one day–
they just stop. Who took them away?
I hear an increasing boom from deep within..
The unwelcoming vines become more
intertwined as I progress, and the quarreling–
no, the bickering becomes more evident–
and I slowly snoop sneakily at the surroundings:
They look familiar.
The scent is strikingly similar the deeper I get.
I close my eyes and inhale deep.
It smells like.. like breakfast before church.
It smells like my mother’s laundry detergent.
It smells like…
My heart sinks and my gasp grows loud.
It echoes down the walls and the bickering comes
to a halt! “Who’s intruding?”
The reverberant voice focuses on me!
The shadow squeaks at my side, almost tauntingly,
but she takes my hand and runs me free.
The vines reach and grab, seize and snatch, for
my limbs and limits, but this little shadow of a kitten
has some sort of power. She is lifting me free
from all that is scornful.
She is running me loose from this place
where magic is drained and it’s nothing but– but:
depravity.
Rain trickles down in a silent grove.
Only the grove is silent for a poor reason.
Because of my poor decision:
to try and leave the grove for the perilous alcove.
Tears stream down my face:
I– I’m sorry.
The nymphs and sprites stand around me endearingly.
“We know you are sincere, my dear.”
They bring me in close, brushing off my tears:
“That is why we brought you here, dear.”
My eyelids flutter aghast.
You brought me here?
“Why, yes! We brought you here to escape.”
A place of magic and pixie-dust…
To escape.
To escape the home filled with squander and slander…
Rain trickles down in a silent grove.
The grove has grown silent for a poor reason.
For a reason revolving around all mundanity.
For a reason revolving around the life
I will grown into… only they hoped I will
avoid this treacherous fate through
the magic they instilled in me from a young age.