By Ashley Simone
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The forest of one thousand truths and two lies is a terrible
place, or so they warned me.
The leaves crackle and crunch beneath my boots, like the
hundred mouse skeletons my brother collected one summer.
And yet I came here anyway, in spite of their warnings. I
had to know.
The leaves stretch farther than your eye could see, though
there are no trees.
The leaves crackle and crunch beneath my boots, like the
hundred mouse skeletons my brother collected one summer.
They are every color a leaf could be, yellow, orange, brown,
black, love red, hate red, loneliness blue, drowned purple.
The leaves stretch farther than your eye could see, though
there are no trees.
Every leaf is a truth, except two that lie.
They are every color a leaf could be, yellow, orange, brown,
black, love red, hate red, loneliness blue, drowned purple.
I reach down to pick up a leaf, cutting myself on its sharp,
bladed edge.
Every leaf is a truth, except two that lie.
You cannot save her.
I reach down to pick up a leaf, cutting myself on its sharp,
bladed edge.
Anyone else could, but you
cannot.
You cannot save her.
I know who she is, though I’ve never met her. Or maybe these
are the two lies, and I don’t know who she is, and I have met her.
Anyone else could, but I cannot.
I search my memory.
I know who she is, though I’ve never met her. Or maybe these
are the two lies, and I don’t know who she is, and I have met her.
Another leaf nears my hand.
I search my memory.
This time I am careful. I do not bleed. It would have hurt
less, though.
Another leaf nears my hand.
In every other life you would
have been happier.
This time I am careful. I do not bleed. It would have hurt
less, though.
There must be useful truths somewhere in this forest.
In every other life you would have
been happier.
I don’t buy it. That must be the lie.
There must be useful truths somewhere in this forest.
There’s hope for a better
future.
I don’t buy it. That must be the lie.
Perhaps the name is the lie, and there are 1000 lies and two
truths.
There’s hope for a better future.
Without you.
Perhaps the name is the lie, and there are 1000 lies and two
truths.
I wonder how the world would be
Without me.
In a flash I see another terrible truth or far more terrible
lie; the world burns to ash; the people smile as they die.
I wonder how the world would be
and again
In a flash I see another terrible truth or far more terrible
lie; the world burns to ash; the people smile as they die.
They hate you such that they
would rather burn without you than live with you.
and again
They love you such that they would
rather burn with you than live without you.
They hate me such that they would rather burn without me
than live with me.
or
They love me such that they would rather burn with me than
live without me.
It cannot be both, one must lie or both.
or
maybe
It cannot be both, one must lie or both.
Or maybe I am wrong and both must be truth.
maybe
or maybe both of both of both; both are true, they both lie
and they both speak the truth
Or maybe I am wrong and both must be truth.
The truth or lies or both hurts less than the iron bladed
edges of the leaves.
or maybe both of both of both; both are true, they both lie
and they both speak the truth
Just maybe
The truth or lies or both hurts less than the iron bladed
edges of the leaves.
But I came here to burn this place like the world burned, or
burns.
Just maybe
I can gather some truths and two lies
But I came here to burn this place like the world burned, or
burns.
And yet steel cannot burn.
I can gather some truths and two lies
Steel and books and the world
can burn, but you cannot burn them for you have not yet been burned by them,
and thus so for all things for all people.
And yet steel cannot burn.
but
Steel and books and the world can
burn, but you cannot burn them for you have not yet been burned by them, and
thus so for all things for all people.
The Fable of Pythagoras
but
Fables always lie; that is the
truth.
The Fable of Pythagoras
And other stories
Fables always lie; that is the truth.
There was once a fellow named
Pythagoras who promised to speak only the truth
And other stories
But that is not the truth
There was once a fellow named
Pythagoras who promised to speak only the truth
and he did.
But that is not the truth
Everyone lies.
and he did.
And he spoke to his followers
Everyone lies.
Except me
And he spoke to his followers
Trust no man
Except me
and they did
Trust no man
But as it turns out, the world
is full of women (some will tell you this is a
lie) who could be trusted
and they did
And Pythagoras’s lies and truths
fell on deaf ears
But as it turns out, the world
is full of women (some will tell you this is a
lie) who could be trusted
Who’s lies and truths did not
And Pythagoras’s lies and truths
fell on deaf ears
for there are none among me that listened
Who’s lies and truths did not
pollute the truth and the lie and the story
for there are none among me that listened
when I said to
pollute the truth and the lie and the story
And so now I see that all fables
are all lies and all truths but no story, and all stories are no lies and no
truths and all story.
when I said to
listen, you did
And so now you see that all fables
are all lies and all truths but no story, and all stories are no lies and no
truths and all story.
Who’s teaching who, and who is
teaching the truth, or the lie closest to the truth?
when I said to
learn, you taught. Though maybe
you cannot learn without teaching, for surely you cannot teach without learning.
Who’s teaching who, and who is
teaching the truth, or the lie closest to the truth?
How can you so batter me truth giver lie speaker story
teller? When you said
learn, I taught. Though maybe I
cannot learn without teaching, for surely I cannot teach without learning
Do not speak to me.
How can you so batter me truth
giver lie speaker story teller? When you said
No, no more, your time is over and
your truth has ended.
Do not speak to me.
I reach for another blood-blue leaf.
No, no more, your time is over
and your truth has ended.
And yet I am still here.
I reach for another blood-blue leaf.
You would be better off dead.
And yet I am still here.
And when I continue on, I shall live far after you have
burned.
You would be better off dead.
You shall not speak to me for
long.
And when I continue on, I shall
live far after you have bled.
But you won’t, and that is the
truth.
I shall speak to you exactly as
much as I damn well please and if there are only two truths in our world, this
is one of them.
At the end of this, I will be free
But you won’t, and that is the
truth.
Some day
At the end of this, I will be free
Another leaf
Some day
Golden as the moon this time
Another leaf
At the end of this, I will be free
This leaf shall help
Golden as the moon this time
You are not here to seek truths.
Wrong leaf.
This leaf shall help
You are not here to seek lies.
I are not here to seek truths.
and
I are not here to seek lies.
I am here to seek the one thing that actually matters in
this world and the only thing that brought you and me and her and them here: I
am here to find a story, amid the forest, and the blood, and the fables, and
the junk, and the leafs that speak and argue and hate me and love me. In
between it all or through it all, there is a story, told in the jagged edges of
a steel, treeless forest.
and
you must agree
you are here to seek the one
thing that actually matters in this world and the only thing that brought me
and you and her and them here: you are here to find a story, amid the forest,
and the blood, and the fables, and the junk, and the leaves that speak and argue
and hate me and love me. In between it all or through it all, there is a story,
told in the jagged edges of a steel, treeless forest.
Yes, and I see it now, or half see it.
you must agree
the moon looks awfully beautiful
Yes, and I see it now, or half
see it.
I should think that makes it all
worth it.
the moon looks awfully beautiful
It is a perfect half moon, though in truth it is as full as
any moon ever, half is just shrouded by darkness.
I should think that makes it all
worth it.
It does. Love
It is a perfect half moon,
though in truth it is as full as any moon ever, half is just shrouded by
darkness.
Don’t you think?
It does. Love
it is not a stranger to me.
Don’t you think?
That it is strange that I should be here all alone?
it is not a stranger to me.
Nor is this place, in truth, I have been here many time’s
before.
That it is strange that you
should be here all alone?
No. there is no other way to get
here but alone, for if there was anyone there with you, they would pull you
back, out of the forest, before you get a chance to turn over even a single
steel leaf.
Nor is this place, in truth, I have been here many time’s
before.
I am used to steel leaves.
No. there is no other way to get
here but alone, for if there was anyone there with me, they would pull me back,
out of the forest, before I got a chance to turn over even a single steel leaf.
Though the leaves are no longer steel. They feel more like
paper.
I am used to steel leaves.
As am I. As am I...
Though the leaves are no longer
steel. They feel more like paper.
They are still the same leafs,
though. They can still hurt you, but not with their jagged edges. Those where
never the worst parts, anyway. The letters, words, thoughts always cut deeper.
As am I. As am I...
Who among us is not cut deep? Who among us has not trudged
through hell? Who among us stands here with their clothes yet unheavied by
blood or fear or years.
They are still the same leafs,
though. They can still hurt you, but not with their jagged edges. Those where
never the worst parts, anyway. The letters,
words, thoughts always cut deeper.
They heavy your clothes with something more than blood, or
years, or fear.
Who among us is not cut deep?
Who among us has not trudged through hell? Who among us stands here with their
clothes yet unheavied by blood or fear or years.
We all are, but some carry deeper wounds.
We heavy your clothes with
something more than blood, or years, or fear.
Is that why they burned this place? Why there are not trees?
Is that why some of you where reduced to steel?
We all are, but some carry
deeper wounds.
There are fates worse than an
eternity of ash and steel.
Is that why they burned this place? Why there are not trees?
Is that why some of you where reduced to steel?
Then again, I suppose
There are fates worse than an
eternity of ash and steel.
At least we have an eternity
Then again, I suppose
An eternity of pain, and
inflicting pain (although those two dance hand in burned hand) is not so great
a fate.
At least you have an eternity
Not like me, or her, or them. We are doomed to walk this
earth and the dark places beneath and above it for only moments, until we pass
on into whatever is darker than darkness, whatever is quieter than silence,
whatever is emptier than nothing.
An eternity of pain, and
inflicting pain (although those two dance hand in burned hand) is not so great
a fate.
But it is better than any afforded
to us.
Not like me, or her, or them. We are doomed to walk this
earth and the dark places beneath and above it for only moments, until we pass
on into whatever is darker than darkness, whatever is quieter than silence,
whatever is emptier than nothing.
And yet, we know truths we cannot,
and were burned for it, and you know lies we could not, and were bled for it.
But it is better than any
afforded to us.
I disagree.
And yet, you know truths I cannot, and were burned for it,
and I know lies you could not, and were bled for it.
But to burn or bleed, not truly so different, and flesh and
steel can live burned hand in bloodied hand, if only one of us reaches out in
the darkness for the other
I disagree.
We are not the same, you and I.
We can not truly live hand in hand, for in years or days your hand shall rot,
but mine, mine shall weather the test of time.
But to burn or bleed, not truly
so different, and flesh and steel can live burned hand in bloodied hand, if
only one of us reaches out in the darkness for the other
if only for a moment.
We are not the same, you and I. We can not truly live hand
in hand, for in years or days my hand shall rot, but yours, yours shall weather
the test of time.
And yet here we are, living and loving and lying besides
each other
if only for a moment.
I should like this moment to continue forever
And yet here we are, living and
loving and lying besides each other
Then again, I don’t think I can
say
I should like this moment to
continue forever
Forever scares me, even as it
consumes me. With death, you are afforded an ending of things, a conclusion, a
freedom, a point. But come time or flame or the ravages of hatred or love, so
fast or slow it might be, I shall remain, steadfast, evercontinuant,
unfulfilled.
Then again, I don’t think I can say
I truly understand when you say
Forever scares me, even as it consumes me. With death, you
are afforded an ending of things, a conclusion, a freedom, a point. But come
time or flame or the ravages of hatred or love, so fast or slow it might be, I
shall remain, steadfast, evercontinuant, unfulfilled.
For what I would give to take your place
I truly understand when you say
For what I would give to take
your place
Then let us.
Then let us.
And I took your place.
And you mine.
And I took your place.
and you mine.
And so it is that I stand here as the forest. I can see now.
The trees were never burned or died or reduced to steel or slag. They were
always, though I missed them for the forest, just as I missed the leafs for
their text. I looked for truths and lies where I ought to be looking for, where
there was only beauty. I supposed I should have known, after all, it is the
forest of 1000 truths and 2 lies, not the library of 1000 truths and 2 lies.
And now I see with eyes as slits
in the bag of life that covers my head and I am lost and lost and lost amongst
the rush of time for a day of a forest passes slower or faster, or maybe easier
than the minute of a human, or something close to human. I see it all now, by
which of course I mean I see nothing. No truths or lies, just the story, the
story you promised me I had in me, though now in you, told in ash and steel and
leaves. I cannot pretend to understand, if there is a veil to be pulled back,
some inner meaning to reach, some grand message to be gleamed from it all, then
I am not the forest or form for the job. Perhaps they are. Regardless, though,
I see the second truth, and this is it, though I dare not speak it in any more
words or any fewer. Amongst the trees and leaves and blood I shall leave it, as
the home and self I leave behind.
There is not more truth beyond
that.
None left in this forest, not
for me at least. The truths, then, are all left to you.
There is not more truth beyond that.
None left in this forest, not for you at least. The truths,
then, are all left to me.
For I am the forest of 1000 truths and two lies, and I
suppose it is now my duty to find or safegaurd or write the other 998 truths.
This is your duty, as it was
once mine:
For you are the forest of 1000
truths and two lies, and I suppose it is now your duty to find or safegaurd or
write the other 998 truths.
Just as I once did, or once will
do.
This is my duty, as it was once yours:
Tell them neither the truth nor the lie, but rather, the
story they need to hear.
Just as you once did, or once will do.
No.
Tell them neither the truth nor
the lie, but rather, the story they want to hear.
For there is nothing else you
can do.
No.
There is not.
For there is nothing else you can do.
But breath and walk and love and hate and find meaning for
yourself in the stars and the mountains and the puddles that dwell in gutters
when the nights are wet.
There is not.
None but that.
But breath and walk and love and
hate and find meaning for myself in the stars and the mountains and the puddles
that dwell in gutters when the nights are wet.
I should think I should quite
like that.
None but that.
And now you are free to be a
forest.
I should think I should quite like that.
I was warned never to come here
And now I am free to be a forest.
And now I know, and know, and know.
I was warned never to come here
And yet I came here anyway, in spite of their warnings. I
had to know.
And now I know, and know, and know.
The forest of one thousand truths and two lies is not so
terrible a place as they warned me.
About the Author
Ashley Simone is a freshman currently studying at Illinois Central College for an Associates in English with hopes to transfer to a four-year school. She has been writing short fiction since early 2021 and took up poetry in 2022. This is her first published work.