Ink
What was I, but a fallen leaf in the embers of November? Left, browning, on yellowing grass, wilted, shrouded in frost, so like the others I was now tracing over?
The walk, out of town and into the surrounding wild country, had never seemed so quiet, so solitary in its bearing. It was late, already far past sunset and rapidly approaching the darkest hour of dead calm. Even the moon, high and frigid, was fainter than I had seen it before; its rays barely touching the highest of trees branches, though enough light permeated down to the forest floor, allowing me to see murkily through the gloom. A biting chill, fraught with ice, descended around me as I made my way further away from town, deeper into the darkest trenches of the wood.
I rallied against the cold, shoving my fists deeper into my heavy overcoat’s pockets, picking up my pace, my boots crunching hard and fast over broken twigs and dried leaves. I followed no known path, simply cutting across the wild land, sidestepping logs of fallen trees, pushing aside low hanging brambles.
My mind was racing, my heart, surely would beat a bruise on my chest. I turned my thoughts over, asking myself if this was right; I had promised to return, if and only if, I was ready. Was I though? I had said my good-byes, the few that were left to be said, and I had made arrangements- everyone at my school and job thought I would simply be going on a three-day trip downstate to visit my parents. What would they think, when I never returned?
What would they do, when they called my parents, who I had told nothing to; would there be shock, a scandal; student, 24, missing and presumed dead? Well, they would be right in one sense…
My lips had turned numb, cracked from the bitter air. I licked them, wiped my nose on my sleeve, all the while staring ahead, to where a glimmer of dark was broken by soft waves. I slowed my walk, my eyes never deviating from that small chink of swirling mass ahead. I picked my way over a large tree that had fallen, blocking my way; the old proverb struck me, if a tree fell in the woods, and no one was around to hear it, would it make a sound? A splash of normality amidst the backdrop of a nonsensical night.
Perhaps it came to me as a faint reminder of what I was leaving behind. What I was willingly giving up, leaving, ceasing to exist in the world into which I was born, perhaps, to be reborn into a strange new one, passing over the sense of deliriousness that carved its initials onto my skin, slit crossroads over my eyes, a wreck of havoc that had, seemingly, dreamily floated awry, my eyes glued to the flickering expanse of water before me-
I reached the edge of the wood. I emerged gingerly from the trees, my eyes taking in the vast lake that churned before me, glimmering palely in acknowledgment of the weak moon. I ghosted towards the very edge of the water, looking down in a delirium at my own reflection, my messy, chestnut brown curls, square, set jaw, my dark, almost piercing dark eyes.
“Come again, have you?” a soft voice said, right behind me.
My breath shallowed and I felt weak. I spent a moment or two gazing down at the liquid mirror, until, I felt better, and so turned to face her.
Though right behind me when she spoke, she was not there now, though I didn’t hear her walk away.
“Hello?” I whimpered, sounding completely pitiful even to my own ears. I cleared my throat and tried again, louder. “Hello?”
The dense darkness rippled ever so gently in front of the trees. I focused on that, and I could dimly see the outline of a tall woman, hooded, robed.
“Have you given any thought to what he discussed?” she asked.
Yes, yes, I had thought. A multitude of things, and I had finally, willingly come back. I tried to stand, and found to my surprise that I could. She must have sensed my answer. The inky fog swam before my line of vision as she stepped forward. The night, extinguished.