Die Hel

"Hell" – that is what the woodcutters of the Dutch East Indian Company called the deep valley below Constantia neck.

It is a dark place. All plants seem to be supersized. It is the low light and being sheltered from the wind which makes the plants grow large leaves.

The trees grow tall.

There is a strange atmosphere in die Hel. Eerie, with big life and fresh decay side by side.

Witches would come here in a moon lit night, taking a bath by the rocks in the stream. And they would sing the song of the deep dark forest.

A bunch of woodcutters were camping at the top end of the valley, close to the road. Their fire had died down to a tiny glow of ember.

Some time after midnight a woodcutter woke up hearing the whispering song of the witch.

“Come my Love, come. Come my Love, come. I long for you my Love. I long for your strong hands.”

The sweet irresistible voice made him take a few steps into the forest. 

“I just want to hear what’s singing. Maybe it is the murmur of the stream. 

Maybe the stream sounds a little different in the upwelling fog.”

“Come my Love, I made a bed for you.” The voice whispered in his ear. “Some more steps and I will know what’s going on.” He thought.

Suddenly he felt some warm air flowing past his ear. He turned around, but there was nothing but silvery shining leaves in the moonlight.

“Come my Love, I made a bed for you.” As he turned back and walked a little further, he felt a warm soft hand taking his and leading him deeper and deeper.

He could not let go of the hand. One moment his mind said: “Let go, turn around, go back to sleep!” but he could not.  
He saw a clearing ahead. The ground is covered with leathery soft dark leaves.

The moon turns it in a sea of sparkles. 
“Come, love me.” The voice demands and pulls him down to the ground. It is slow loving at first, like a bath in the leaves. The scent of decay is intoxicating sweet.

“Come be mine, come play with me.” She was rubbing him with earth and rolling around in blissful ecstasy. The moon is setting at the edge of the mountain and a wind moves the tips of the tallest trees.

The morning came and the woodcutters woke up. 

They waited a while and called for their missing companion. 

He did not come back. At lunchtime, a search party found his clothing and shoes on a little clearing. The ground looked like there had been a fight. 

But his body was never found.