Greenhouse Effect

2.

My feet propel me through the woods towards the only spot I know I'll be untouchable in. I've navigated my way through these trees a dozen times with the sun up above to show me the way, but the sun isn't here to protect me from getting lost right now.

It's eerily quiet out here, making it distinctly worse that every step I take is marked by the loud crunch of the dried leaves that coat the ground. It's almost as if I'm wearing a bell; anyone within earshot would know exactly where I am. The thought that I might not be alone out here is only just now crossing my mind. Worse, the longer I walk the more vulnerable I start to feel.

I'm pretty sure that this exact scenario that I've put myself in is how the majority of horror movie characters get murdered. Maybe this wasn't such a bright idea.

Just as I start to beat myself up over not thinking to leave a trail of breadcrumbs, my eyes catch a slight movement through the trunks. I freeze and every nerve ending feels like a needle beneath my skin, threatening to fill me with holes if I were to so much as take a breath. My wide eyes lock onto that same opening, waiting for another sign of what moved in this incredibly still forest.

Then something sways in the opening again, but I recognize what it was this time. My body slumps back into its normal posture as I now know it was only what I was out here to find: the mysterious swing set.

I stumbled across them on one of my daytime expeditions. They earned the all too creative title 'mysterious swing set' because they clearly don't belong here, nor do I have any idea who would have assembled them in the middle of the woods and just left them to be overgrown and rusted. Maybe someone else once used them as an oasis too.

Needless to say, they quickly became a regular place for me to visit. A place where I could be all alone.

As far as I knew, I was the only one who knew that they existed. Apparently I was wrong as I look ahead of me now and see that my lonely swings aren't so lonely anymore.

Perched on one of the swings is this girl with sleek black hair that slips all the way down her back. Her wide hips look out of place on her thin frame and the way she smoothly glances over her shoulder strikes me as almost feline. Then when her bright blue-green eyes meet mine curiously, it only completes that image in my mind.

I freeze under her stare and she holds me there for moments or hours before she finally speaks.

"I'm sorry, are these yours?" Her voice is almost as silky as her hair.

"N- no. I just... found them here awhile ago," I explain, hoping I don't sound as awkward to her as I do in my head. She pats the swing beside her, offering for me to join her. It occurs to me I've just been standing awkwardly far away for a little bit too long now, so I force my feet towards her. When I sit, she looks out into the forest. I look with her.

We sit like that, neither of us speaking, for a long while. What I expect to feel is disappointment that I had my alone time stolen from me, but instead I feel grateful. The silence that fills the air is heavy but somehow comfortable, reminding me of what it feels like to slip under my Mom's weighted blanket; the one she says uses 'pressure-therapy' to help with anxiety. I wasn't sure how well that worked until now.

Did this girl come out here to be alone too? I can't imagine it's ever a good sign that someone wants to wander out into the woods at night by themselves...

I turn to her and she flits her eyes to me in response.

"Do you ever think you're okay with something and then find out later on that you're actually not okay with it?" I ask vaguely. She ponders this.

"Sure. It's human to change your mind about things. Also, so incredibly valid. Anyone who isn't behind you whenever you change your mind needs to get behind you or get out," she says with such confidence that I'd believe anything she said using that tone.