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Once upon a time there was a boy.

He imagined he had the kind of earnest curiosity you'd find in one who hadn't experienced rejection. He was often found in search of adventures so with him he carried a burlap bag of adventurous essentials; rope, underwear, a torch, his late fathers Swiss army knife, a comic book, chocolate and dog biscuits.

Upon this particular time he set out to the woods behind his house.

To look at the woods one would imagine all manner of ghastly beasts lurking behind the ageless trees, hiding in wait for the succulent innards of a wayward wanderer. But the boy knew the woods differently.

To him the woods were more familiar than his home.

He stood at the threshold of the woods and contemplated what adventure he might find today. Looking up at the sky he saw distant dark clouds, ruminating over their tiresome grudge. They would cast their darkness over the woods in time.

He glanced back at his house, took in its glow and stepped into the woods.

He loved the sudden hush that fell, like walking into a meeting of the Ancients unannounced. Sometimes he would scale the parameter weaving in and out of the line that separated the woods from the world.

Pressing further into the quiet he searched for signs. A broken branch, a footstep. After a while he arrived at his favourite brook of the river which flowed thickly through the woods.

The water was teal grey and meandered leisurely down, down, down.

He climbed up the old tree with the comfortable branch. Warm sunlight filtered through the canopy and hung heavily in the air. Tiny insects danced in the pockets of light, leaves breathed deep the silence and the boy fell off the branch.

He landed on his back with a dull thud. As the wind was knocked out of him his body tried to suck more back in. He raged for air while darkness closed in on him.

He woke with a start. The air was a lot cooler now.

"You ought to be more careful", came a voice from behind him.

"I was looking for you. Did you push me?", the boy squinted.

"Not this time."

The boy looked at the dog. The boy gathered his bag and balance and they started walking further into the woods.

The low sun was just about to fall of the edge. Down, down, down.

The dog towered over the boy on it's hind legs. It wore a black utility belt from which it pulled out a carrot. The crunching made the boy wince.

The dog was almost unaware of the boys presence but the boy kept glancing up trying to think of something to say. After all this time their interactions were for the most part, exhaustingly awkward.

"I brought some -", he stopped short when he saw it.

A huge undeniable it. There was a metaphor sitting on a fallen tree. It looked layered like an onion. It's outer layers were wilting. The dog approached it and peeled a section off. Inside there was a firmer and more translucent layer.

Deeper into the thicket they went and darker it became. When the boy looked back he caught glimpses of the metaphor through the net of brambles but it was getting harder to see.

The silence of the woods pressed against the boy and the dog.

"Where are we going today?"

"It's hard to say. Imagine that you are in a story and of course, you couldn't say exactly what is going to happen but perhaps you can hazard a guess"

"Who is writing the story? If I am writing the story then I want to go that way", he pointed in that direction only the dog couldn't see because it was pitch black.

"Okay", the dog replied simply and further into the oppressingly loud silence they went.

The darkness flowed over them like a silky liquid, gliding over all their nooks and crannies. The gentle ebb and flow of the darkness helped push and pull them through the woods.

They walked and walked. The boy ran through a million things he could say to the dog but none seemed relevant or interesting. After a while the boy got pissed off because why couldn't the dog make an effort?

"I'm gonna head off that way, see you".

The dog grunted and the boy walked home.