❝ i'm jealous of the rain, that falls upon your skin.
it's closer than my hands have been, i'm jealous of the rain. ❞
Laurel had 3 things that she enjoyed doing in her small town. Read, listen to music, and gaze at Nancy Wheeler. Apart from the fa...
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WARNING; DEROGATORY LANGUAGE
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Trepidation. That's the only way Laurel could describe what she was feeling. It was a strange word, since more common ones like fright or terror should've come first. But somehow the complex word she learned that week in English class came into her mind as she stood alone in the dark woods, knowing that Nancy was in danger and she could probably do nothing about it.
Trepidation; a feeling of fear or agitation about something that may happen. In times of crisis her mind explored the most random parts of her brain, which explained why she couldn't stop thinking about this word.
She was afraid. And as if Nanch knew that, she spoke to her.
"Laurel!" Nancy's voice echoed through her ears, as if it was a distant whisper.
Laurel called out for her friend many more times, hearing the same response back, they were coming from all different directions.
It was as if she was here, and not here, at the same time.
"Laurel where are you?"
This couldn't have been her imagination.
Sprinting into the direction of the voice, she called out Nancy's name again. It was like a children's game of hide and seek, but a little more dark than usual.
"Laurel, I'm right here! I'm right here!" Nancy's scream was so close by the hairs on the back of Laurel's neck stood on end. She had to be nearby.
"I'm right here Nancy, I'm here! Just follow my voice!" Laurel shouted in between breaths, using her inhaler for what felt like the 100th time that night. "Follow my voice I'm right here!"
Suddenly she stopped calling, and a scream emitted from the echoes. Laurel turned, glancing at the one tree it had came from.
"Nancy!" She shouted again, her voice going hoarse, as she ran to the tree, fell on her knees and inspected the area. her eyes warily trailed down the trunk to see it strangely moving, but slightly open. It was otherworldly.
"Nancy..." she called out again, a little more quiet this time, her hand cautiously trailing along the infected looking trunk. It felt bumpy and wet, which made her incredibly uncomfortable. As her light shined on the middle she could see that it was a hole covered in goopy webs.
