Unikum 08 October nett

SHORT STORY
Everything that I am about to narrate
here is true. Yes, I could have mixed
up some of the finer details, for I was
lost and disoriented when it happened,
but overall, this is a true
story. Whether you believe
it or not, is up to you. My
only concern is to tell you
everything truthfully, so
that, you, too, may know the forces
that live amongst us.
This incident took place
sometime around the
third week of October,
perhaps at 17:00 or 17:30
in the evening. My mind was
not at ease, filled as it was with
worries and uncertainties. I had
many things to do and little time
to do them in. And yet, a restless
spirit was upon me. I found that I
could not focus on any one task.
So, instead of wasting any more
time, I threw on my jacket, grabbed the backpack
and headed out for a walk in the Jegersberg forest.
This forest is just a year-long acquaintance, but it
feels like a trusted friend. There is comfort among
its well-trodden trails. A walk here never fails to
silence the chatter, remove extraneous thoughts
and make me feel at peace with the world. Not just
that, I firmly believe that if you want to be at one
with Norway, you must get on good terms with its
nature. For Norway is nothing but these forests and
lakes, these rolling hills and hidden valleys and
these sheer vertical cliffs that rise straight up from
the sea, overlooking miles of fjords sparkling in
the sun. There is something jagged and raw about
the nature here, but it is never brutal and always
accepting if you give it the respect that it is due.
The old gods, the trolls and spirits still lurk in the
deeper recesses of these places, and it is only fitting
that one should seek to propitiate them when one
is looking for answers. Thus, a walk in Jegersberg
is never just a walk, but a way to call forth the
blessings of the Universe.
And so it was that day. As I wound my way along
the trail that leads to the main Jegersberg lake, the
Øvre Jegersbergvann, my very heartbeats started
synchronizing with the rhythms of the forest.
The smell of wood and rain and wet earth filled
my nostrils and all around me was Jegersberg,
ablaze in the reds and oranges of late autumn.
Many of the trees had shed their leaves and their
trunks gleamed a ghostly white as bunches of wet,
decomposing leaves squished underfoot.
I walked deeper and deeper into the forest.
I had a need to get lost, and so a little way off from
Vafflebua and on the trail that leads towards Gillsvannet,
I decided to veer off the known path and follow a small,
barely visible trail that led up the side of a low hill.
The forest was gloomy here. Bare, white trunks crowded
in on me from both sides as I clambered up the steep
slope. It was the magical hour of twilight, when the sun
has already set, leaving behind some reflected light that
lights up the horizon. As I huffed and puffed my way up,
I could see the skyline through the trees ahead and knew
that I was coming to the crest of the hill soon. When I got
there, I found that it was the top of a ravine. From here,
the land sloped steeply down. Odd-looking bushes and
white tree trunks, curved into the most fantastic shapes
grew all along this slope and the bottom was covered in
deep shadow. On the opposite side was an open, grass
covered valley with the treeline in the distance.
I made my way across the ravine and as I got to the crest
on the opposite side, the residual sunlight disappeared
from the sky almost as if some giant, unseen hand had
turned off a light switch somewhere. Darkness came
crashing, and with it came a wild wind and big drops
of rain. All of this happened in an instant.
About 300 metres in front, I saw a huge ash tree standing
alone in the middle of the valley. It was enormous, with
branches spread out in every direction and covered with
dense, green leaves even in this late season. I ran for
the shelter of it’s branches, and stood there shivering,
as I waited for the rain to abate. What I could not
understand was where this rain had come from, for
there hadn’t been a cloud in the sky when I started out,
nor any mention of it in the weather forecasts.
The forecasters must have got it spectacularly wrong, for
I have never seen a storm like this in Kristiansand. For
the first time ever in Norway, I heard cracks of thunder
that made me jump and saw flashes of lighting tearing
up the sky, lighting up the inky curtain of blackness
that smothered everything around me. In the intervals
between the lightning bolts, I espied a faint, flickering
light far ahead. Hope grew within me- perhaps there was
a house or a village where I could find shelter from the
storm.
I started making my way there when the thunderstorm
had weakened a bit. However, as the rain calmed down,
the sound of the wind became overpowering. It sounded
like the howling of hundreds of huskies, or perhaps
wolves, and it had a rhythm of its own – one moment
the wind would be tearing through the valley with this
OCTOBER 2022 UNIKUM NR 8 27