i'll be there | cyan [c]

♕ | strange

     I leaned back against the trunk of a large oak tree, turning the page of the leather bound journal in my hands. I'm usually not the outdoorsy type, but I love the fall season, and I do like to take a walk on occasion at the beginning of it all, when the leaves start changing and the pine needles cover the forest ground.

     The air smells vaguely of pine needles, but that's ever so understandable given how many are scattered about. I hear a lot of things about this forest; people in town tend to take their myths quite seriously, and the older folk constantly chatter on about fae folk and other creatures ranging from gentle beings who paint the flowers their proper colours to vicious cannibals who have driven themselves to insanity.

     I'm not afraid, though, as I've never experienced any of these things myself. My grandmother is an avid believer in the fairies, and my mother claims she's seen spirits in these woods; but I suppose the Cerulli family is just a tad bit batshit.

     Then again, my sister stays well away from it, and my brother simply doesn't care to open his mind to supernatural things, save aliens and ghosts. Nick isn't the fondest of fairytales, and Jennifer would rather focus on her beloved school work.

     I like to think of myself as a story teller of sorts, and with story telling comes listening. So, I listen to the stories anyone is willing to share with me. And so here I sit, with my grandmother's journal in my hands, in the middle of a silent forest. My only light is what manages to pierce the density of the trees.

     Inhaling the scent of pine and leaves, I turn my attention back down to the journal I hold. My grandmother's loopy cursive handwriting is proving difficult to read at times, but I'm a persistent shit. I came out here to read, and to learn; and that's damn well what I'm going to do.

     The page I'm reading at the moment isn't exactly about one of the sweeter things in this journal. A Wendigo, I see. The cannibals of the forest; driven mad from the consumption of so much human flesh..

     I'll admit, it's a bit of a downer to read about such a despicable creature. So, I skip to a page consisting a simple topic; the whispers.

     According to my grandma, these woods whisper to people, and the effects vary. Some people have run out of these woods in tears, others seeming almost intoxicated. Supposedly it depends on whether 'they' like you or not. What the woods say to you.. things like that.

     Upon instruction of the journal, I close my eyes and rest the book against my chest, inhaling and exhaling slowly. Well, forest.. here's your chance.

     Just as I thought I heard faint whispering, the all too audible sound of a twig snapping a few feet away drew me out of my little experiment. I snapped the journal shut and tucked it into my messenger bag, looking around to find the source of the sound. I saw a broken twig, indeed, but that wasn't all I saw.

     For a moment, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. But after a solid minute of staring, the image of a body became visible. It was like they were painted to resemble the forest. Anyone paying a quick glance would never have noticed.

     "What.." I trailed off softly. "What are you?" I asked cautiously.

     The creature's eyes met mine for a brief moment before it promptly darted to the side. When I turned my head, I could find no trace of the creature I had locked eyes with just a moment ago.

     Pursing my lips, I rose to my feet. I shook my head, pinching the bridge of my nose. I settled on blaming that.. incident.. on too much coffee, on top of working too late at the library. Surely that was the reason.. If I had really seen a creature of any kind, surely it would have made some move in attacking me..

     As I smoothed out my clothes, I began my journey back to the path that would lead me out of the forest. I couldn't help but wonder, though.. Hypothetically.. if that creature was real, would I see it again?

     Maybe my mind was simply showing me something I wanted to see. Regardless, it was quite astounding. I continued trying my damnedest to pin a reason to it, though. After all, that couldn't have been real..

     Humming, I made my way back to the library. Ricky greeted me with a mumble of 'hello' as I walked behind the desk I typically occupied.

      Ricky is a few years younger than me. Why he chose to work at a library is beyond me. I'm almost positive his girlfriend works at the animal shelter, though. They're both sweethearts; they look happy together. Now that I think about it, Ricky looked miserable until he met her.

     I've only met Jaime once, but she seems like a peach. She's always so happy; it must be contagious, because when she smiles, Ricky smiles. It's quite cute. They'll probably raise cats together. Ricky was pretty clear about not wanting kids- but, he likes cats. A lot. I wonder if he volunteers sometimes at the shelter as well..

     "You look pale. Paler than usual," Ricky said, sipping his coffee and quirking a brow as he glanced at me. "See a ghost or something..?" He asked with a slight frown, leaning back in his chair. He had one leg crossed over the other, bouncing it slightly. A nervous habit of his, and an obvious one at that.

     I waved a hand and hooked my bag over the chair behind my desk. "No, nothing like that." I said casually, tucking some hair behind my ear. "Just something I read." I mumbled, sitting down and cracking my knuckles.

     "Right." He mumbled, rolling his eyes and going back to the book he had been reading. I just snickered and shook my head, humming. Maybe I'd pay my grandmother a visit tomorrow afternoon..