A Whisper in the Woods

Chapter 1: Green

There is only one word to describe Amanda Fields' office: insane.  Which is particularly ironic since she is my psychiatrist.  The yellow carpet, which I am almost certain started out white, is decorated with a fake bear skin rug and all of her furniture is some shade of green.  Not to mention the walls.  Each of the four walls of her office contains a different scene from a different story, curtesy of her artistic husband.  The beige wall behind the gross green leather chair where I sit is lined with small filing cabinets and features the Biblical tale of David and Goliath.  David looks like a dwarf at the feet of the giant, with his slingshot in one hand and his deadly pebbles in the other.  The intimidating death machine towers over David, casting a massive shadow over him, and sports a sickening grin. 

The pale blue wall to the right of her desk--which, like everything else, is painted a sick color of dark green--depicts Odysseus and his cyclops fiend, Polyphemus.  Herds of white fluffy sheep shuffle out of the cyclops' den with Odysseus and his men tucked underneath. 

To the left of her desk is the much more modern tale of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. On this Grey wall is the Basilisk in all of its glory with Harry pulling the Sword of Gryffindor out of the Sorting Hat.  Although this story, well, the whole book series really, is near and dear to my heart, it is not the wall that draws me in the most.

Behind Dr. Fields obnoxiously green desk is a local legend.  The legend of Hanna-Marie and the Whispering Woods.  Snow litters the ground at the base of the tree line, which stretches along the wall, the branches almost looking like fingers.  At the edge of the woods stands little Matilda, one of the many victims of Hanna-Marie, the witch who haunts the woods surrounding our little town of Silva, Washington. Faces are painted into the bark of the trees, displaying the many terrified and lonely souls who came before Matilda, the many who are doomed to serve the woods, and Hanna-Marie, forever.

"Elizabeth!"

I jolt back to reality, which consists of a very frustrated Dr. Fields glaring at me from her dark green desk chair.  Her blonde hair is in a bun, like always, and she's wearing a brown dress that looks like a sack.  "You weren't paying attention. Again."

"Sorry, Dr. Fields. It won't happen again." It is most likely going to happen again. Probably in the same therapy session. Probably in the next five minutes. Dr. Fields can be dreadfully boring, all offense intended. 

Dr. Fields sighs. "Elizabeth, this is becoming a real problem.  How can you live your life if you're stuck inside your head?" She shakes her head and her green-rimmed glasses fall down her nose. They were the same sickly color as her awful desk. 

"I'll try to do better, Dr. Fields." If I had a dollar for every time I have said that in this office, I would be one rich woman.

"Elizabeth, I know that life is hard and that you miss your parents," 

Here we go again, I think.

"But you must live on. You were Valedictorian last year, I don't want you to be so lost in your head that you lose the class rank that you worked so hard for.  This is your Senior Year." She folds her hands on her desk and her wedding ring glistened.

"I don't know why people keep saying that to me." I pitch my voice up higher, sounding eerily like Dr. Fields. "'This is your Senior Year , Liz! You need to have fun!' 'Don't give up, Liz! Its your Senior Year!'"  I shook my head.  "Honestly, its not that big of a deal. 'Senior Year' is not going to fix all of my problems. 'Senior Year' is going to be just like Junior Year.  Same people, same school, same town."  I huff a piece of dark hair out of my face and sit back in my annoying, garish, green chair. I want to throw up.

"Elizabeth, honey, I think going back to school is going to be good for you. Maybe adding some normalcy to your life will do you some good." Dr. Fields pushes her glasses up her nose and takes a pencil out of her blonde bun. "Are you still having nightmares, Elizabeth?"

"Nightmare, Dr. Fields. Its always the same one."

"Although I think this is a way for your grief to manifest itself, you honestly look like you need some sleep."

"Thanks."

"I'm just being honest. Anyway, I am prescribing an aroma therapy treatment that should help with the nightmares. Just burn this herb in a pot or something metal and let the smell fill the room. It should help keep you calm and help you sleep." She writes the instructions down on a note, like I can't remember them. "Or, are you uncomfortable with the, you know..." 

"I'm fine." I grunt.

"I know that the smoke may trigger--" 

"I said I'm fine." I get up and take her damn freaking green note card, and start walking out the door as fast as I can. 

"Liz." 

I sigh and turn back to her. "Yes?"

"Happy birthday, Sweetheart." I can see the sadness in her eyes.  She's not my therapist at the moment.  

I look at her for a moment and then turn around so she can't see the tears prick my eyes. "Thanks, Aunt Mandy."

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