Off the Path: The Prodigal

“Okay. I think I can definitely say now that I’m lost.”

Ben Riker stopped for a moment and peered back the way he had come. The straggling path he’d been following for the last half-hour disappeared into the late afternoon gloom, indiscernible from the surrounding forest. Which was a problem, because ahead of him, there didn’t seem to even be a path any more.

“Okay,” he repeated. “Lost. In Uncle Matt’s game preserve. It’s nearly dark. I don’t have a flashlight or a coat. And it’s Halloween. Not that I had anything better to be doing.”

He shook his head. That was a lie. Practically anything would be better than this.

Something made a weird noise. Ben shivered.

It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. He would take a leisurely stroll in the forest, and thus avoid having to spend time with the Bob-Whites, or do any work to get ready for the lame party they were planning. And if there might have been a prank that he wanted to plan, well, they do say that old habits die hard. Except that, while his mind was occupied with the finer details of his scheme, he somehow left the main trail and now couldn’t find his way back.

“What are you supposed to do when you’re lost?” he asked himself, aloud. “Do you stand still and wait? Or is that just when you’re a little kid? Does that work if no one is looking for you?”

He shivered again. He hadn’t told anyone where he was going. No one had seen him leave. Even if they did miss him – which wasn’t a given; he’d been a pretty unsociable guest during his current stay with his cousins – they wouldn’t know where to look.

“It’ll be dark soon.”

He made up his mind. He wasn’t just staying here.

He lost the path almost at once, but kept going anyway. For ten arduous minutes, Ben pushed his way through the undergrowth before a hidden tree root tripped him up and he fell face-down into the dirt.

“Pah!” He spat out a strand of dried grass which found its way into his mouth. “Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse.”

He eased himself back to his feet, noticing for the first time that he had quite literally stumbled into a clearing. The patch of sky above had turned a deep blue. A single star twinkled. But beneath the trees, everything had turned to black.

And that’s when he heard it.

“Hello?” he called, heart beating faster. “Is someone there?”

The sound repeated. Laughter. Female. Quiet. Or, perhaps, distant. He strained his ears to hear more but she had stopped.

“Hello?” he tried again, without effect.

Ben took a tentative step forward. Instead of rough ground, he felt a firm, smooth surface underfoot. He crouched to touch it with his hand, brushing away a few dry leaves to find something cold and hard. Stone? Concrete? He couldn’t tell.

He took a couple more steps. Opposite him, he could just make out a rectangular shape roughly waist high. He glanced around the perimeter of the clearing and let out a startled yelp.

“Who are you?” he asked the figures lined up on either side of him. “What do you want from me?”

The woman laughed again, closer this time, and Ben’s gaze snapped in her direction. He could see her silhouette now, seated on the shape ahead of him. And with a rush of heat to his cheeks, he realised that the figures either side of him were only statues.

He frowned. What was this place?

“Come closer,” the woman invited. “I want to look at you.”

Her voice slid over Ben like silk, tugging him forward without conscious thought. After two steps he pulled himself to a halt. Somewhere, deep inside him, a voice was urgently telling him to be wary.

“Closer,” she purred.

Ben took one more step. “Who are you?”

“I can give you your heart’s desire,” she whispered. “Anything you want. Money. Power. Influence.”

What did he even want? At that moment, Ben’s fondest wish would be to return safely to Manor House and never set foot in this dreadful forest ever again. But he was his father’s son and he would never enter an agreement without considering all angles.

“At what price?” he asked.

“What does that matter, if you get everything you want?” she asked. “You would like power, wouldn’t you? I can give it to you; as much as you desire.”

Ben forced himself to remain still. He could see the statues more clearly, now. Their smooth, marble surfaces seemed to almost glow. Each depicted a man, just slightly bigger than life-size. They loomed over him, some of them with an arm outstretched.

“The kind of power I can give, you could satisfy any other desires you might have.” Her voice washed over him, sweet and intoxicating, drawing him another step closer. “The life of your dreams awaits. Just come to me and I will give you all you want.”

A vision arose in Ben’s mind. He could be great; a man to be looked up to by all he encountered. He could outshine his father, his uncle. He could subdue all of his many critics. He could have everything.

Ben looked at the woman and smiled. She reached out a hand for him to take. For just a moment, he reached towards her, then he darted to the side, diving into one of the gaps. The statues snatched at him as he dodged between them.

“No!” the woman cried, as Ben thrashed his way through the woods.

He stumbled onto a wide path. To his left, a light shone, warm and inviting. He ran the last, short distance to Maypenny’s clearing.

“Safe,” he whispered, as he let himself into the cabin. “But that was way too close.”

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