Screaming Through the Bark
Benjamin usually didn’t sleep well but, on this night, in a deep slumber, he dreamed of his late wife, Margaret, and saw her soft brown eyes smiling from her gentle face. He heard her calming low voice, knew every crease on her rose-petal shaped lips and was soothed by the warm scent on her freckled skin; the intimate notes of La Petite Robe Noire, a perfume he had bought Margaret in Paris when celebrating their fortieth anniversary.
In his dream, Margaret was enticing him to follow her with a skip of her strong legs and an easy twirl that lifted the lace hem of her short black dress. Benjamin eagerly followed her into the woods behind their home, where he now lived alone, and was filled with hot passion. His heart throbbed as they approached the spot where both their children had been conceived beneath a 400-year-old Douglas fir that rose 300 feet into the dark sky. Margaret disappeared behind the massive trunk. Benjamin leaned back against the tree and dropped his arms as he caught his breath. A twig snapped. He instinctively steadied himself with his palms against the deeply-fissured bark. Laughing, he said, “I know where you are! You can’t get away!” He waited for the expected giggle from the other side of the tree. It didn’t come. He playfully edged along the centuries-old bark, and whispered, “I’m going to get you! I always get you!”
Behind him was a series of knots, woodpecker excavations and fire scars—features Margaret and he had often giggled at—that resembled a clown, a scared clown with a bent nose and large, surprised eyes. Benjamin continued to tease Margaret but didn’t see what was happening behind him, a metamorphosis of the bark. The knotted face was slowly and darkly starting to flow, distort and twist. Margaret’s eyes materialized in the knots but wide with terror, her red lips contorted to take the shape of a wild scream and her head protruded like a cancer from the trunk. The base of the tree expanded and fell like great straining lungs and Benjamin felt a cold pungent breath on his neck. He wheeled around and saw a diabolical sight: the distorted, satanic rendition of his wife. The massive tree shook from the roots to the crown, its upper branches snapped, plummeted, and landed with a gust beside Benjamin. The tree’s lungs filled and released—Margaret’s unearthly voice screamed through the bark, “Get out! Get out! Get out!”
Benjamin woke in a glacial sweat and sprang from bed, his bare feet landing on the frayed rug. A stinging-cold wind raged through the house as if there were no windows or walls. He rushed down the hall to the front door, which was swinging free. Twisted metal lay scattered on the floor, the remains of three deadbolts that had been installed just days before.
Benjamin bolted into the woods where he had just seen—thought he had seen—his wife. The tortured tree shook violently in the wind and its roots struggled, like a desperate claw, to grip the earth but ultimately, they could not match the wind’s force. Incapacitated, Benjamin watched the tree’s wicked descent, pulled by the earth itself, as it accelerated towards the house. The roof and walls were crushed—the roof and walls that had protected his family during the happy years before the darkness came.
The sight of the broken, disintegrated, and scattered fragments of his home—of his life—drove Benjamin to his knees, sobbing. A black rag blew from the rubble and landed softly before him, which he took, buried his face, and wept. There was a familiar warm scent in the rag, a consoling memory of Margaret. He wiped away his tears and saw that it wasn’t a rag at all. It was her dress.
Brain “Bunny” Batista
Artist
Brain Batista, known as “Bunny” is a multi disciplinary artist with a degree in Sculpture, a background in motion pictures and a love for creating art and making marks. Bunny runs the Atelier Artista fine art school in cSPACE Marda Loop in Calgary, Alberta, Canada. Bunny focuses on teaching skills based representional art making with a focus on anatomy and the figure drawing from life. More info > atelierartista.com.
I was a collaborating writer for the 2023 Ghost Stories YYC (@ghost_stories_yyc), which is "A Visual Storytelling Group Art Show & Publication".
For the bi-annual event, artists create visual art based on their original ghost story or one written by a collaborating writer. I had the pleasure of working with Brian “Bunny” Batista (@brianbunnybatista) who created a piece based on my story, Screaming Through the Bark.
During the Ghost Stories opening at The Ruberto Ostberg Gallery (@rubertoostberggallery) I purchased Bunny’s painting, and it hangs in my office.
