The Forbidden Forest

by Clark Ashton Smith


The child Natha lived with his father and mother in a little house not far from
the verge of the great jungle. Every day he could see the ancient trees that
were taller than ebony or mahogany, and the gleaming of enormous orchids upon
their matted creepers. His parents had told him that he must never venture
within the jungle, for the beauty of the high palms and hanging flowers
concealed a host of dreadful perils, and venomous serpents and dire monsters
dwelt among them. But Natha thought that nothing in the world could be so
beautiful as the jungle; and it lured him evermore with the mystery of its
infinitude, with its manifold and silent and fantastic loveliness; and he dreamt
that the flowers would be fairer still, and the trees more high and stately, if
he could see them near at hand. And the child Natha grew to love the jungle with
a strange and fearful love.

	One day, when his parents had gone on a brief journey, and had given him
many parting admonitions to avoid the perilous wood, Natha left the little
house, and crossed the open fields in which he was permitted to play, and drew
near to the forbidden forest. His tiny heart began to beat like a drum, when the
monstrous palms and liana-laden trees loomed above him. But their shadows were
so cool and green and deep, and he saw so many blossoms, so many fretted ferns
and lovely-shapen leaves, and so many butterflies that vanished or emerged among
them, and so many saffron and scarlet and azure birds that flew away with
strange cries in the emerald gloom, that he soon lost all memory of his parents'
warning, and wandered further and further, following the butterflies and the
birds.

	And Natha was very happy for a while, and he found a million things to
puzzle or fascinate or please his childish mind; and he plucked many flowers,
only to drop them when he found others that were larger or brighter. And he
loved the rich, inebriating perfume of the flowers, and he loved their pale and
amber and opaIescent hues.

	Now, after a time, Natha became tired, and he thought of his little home
and his mother's care with a sudden longing. And he tried to retrace his way
through the deep jungle; but he had wandered far in the emerald gloom, and all
things were different and unfamiliar, and he could not find the route by which
he had come. Instead, he soon lost himself among trees that were vaster and
darker than any he had yet seen; and around him were pallid blossoms broad as
moons, that poured forth a heavy wave of overpowering lethal fragrance. And
Natha was a little frightened now; but as he wandered on, the scent of the
flowers began to make him drowsy. And the trees grew darker and taller still,
and the blossoms were huge and bright as rising suns, and he seemed to drown in
their perfume as in a voluptuous tide. And Natha was no longer frightened when
he fell among the blossoms; and their faces receded and faded above him as he
sank down to everlasting sleep.