The Path (Male Reader)

Eyes Shut

Dark City Covered

Dark Shadows Hang Over My Head

Dark Skies Loom Over Us

Overcast clouds hung over the land as the dark car drove through the streets. It was a pitch black 1976 Mustang with silver rims on the tires. The windows were darken by tint to the point where no one could see inside the car.

This vehicle was driving it's owner to his new home. An old brick apartment building located on the edge of town. Just before the woods, where an old brick wall separated civilization and wilderness. The safe and the unpredictable. Nature could be deadly. It was unbias and relentless.

But it was also very beautiful.

Among the old building was a small playground, rusty and creaking due to years of neglect. It cried out as a young girl swung and another climbed up a small ladder into a small wooden fort. A third girl sat on a nearby bench and read a book meant to be read by someone older in age. When one heard the engine of the dark car, she stopped climbing and watched as it pulled into an empty space.

Once the car was parked, the engine died. The door opened and the younger girl stopped to see who had arrived. No one has moved to this forgotten place in years. Or, at least not in the recent memories of a 9, 11, and 13 year old.

Robin was nine years old. A very lively child. She loved playing in the forest. Only on the path, of course. Mother tells her to never go into the woods. She never says why. Robin thinks there may be fun things to play with in the forest.

She sometimes hears the creaking sounds of what seems to be a swing. Or the howl of a wolf in the distance. Robin likes wolves. They are her favorite kind of animal.

Rose was mature for her age. But there is a certain air of innocence about her that is charming and disconcerting at the same time. Barely a teenager, Rose was eleven, she was discovering the world around her with fresh eyes. And all is beautiful.

The wind in the trees, the birds in the air, the flowers along the path. Rose was taking it in voraciously. So much so that she will defend even nature's smallest creatures against anyone who might wish them harm.

The forest is a great place for adventures. And a much more fun way to get to grandmother's house. Ginger wasn't one for sticking to paths. Running around in the fields, climbing gnarly old trees, playing wild games with abandoned toys, collecting pebbles and hitting things with sticks.

The idea of growing up doesn't hold much appeal. Who'd want to give up their childhood? But Ginger was 13. The end was near.

All three were sisters, but they couldn't be any more different. They may have been raised together, but they saw the world in vastly different ways due to their age. Their own naivete stopped them from realizing the truth of the world around them.

Still, they were just children. Enjoying their childhoods as much as they could. They didn't need to hurry and grow up. The world was still open, wide, big. They didn't need to know about the shadows just yet. And hopefully, ideally, they would never have to.

Their eyes remained locked on the car as someone stepped out. A taller figure with a head of messy hair and a dark jacket that matched the car. A white shirt with a single black stain just above where the belt would be. Black Converse remained hidden under dark jeans. A faint scar under your eye and a tattoo peeking out from the top of your shirt.

You looked around the parking lot with tired eyes. You had been driving for hours now. Almost two full days. You were starting to believe that you would never reach your destination today either out of sheer exhausting or by an unfortunate accident. You were grateful that you had finally arrived.