He motioned to the stream beside us. Then, images started to surface from the dark murky waters. The details, slightly distorted by the ripples. A bottle, a wine glass, a table. From the window, specs of dust danced on the rays of sunlight then a woman was seated holding a phone. She stood up to leave the house and get in her car but she wasn't alone. A child sat behind her. The intoxication was obvious in the way her head bobbed and how she'd wipe her forehead with one hand. She'd occasionally turn to her little passenger and when she faced forward, a flash of light.
After that, we are taken to a scene in the forest where the child was running after a small creature. To her misfortune, she has slipped by the cliff. A boy hovered above her. One hand reached out, the other holding a flute. Just like in my dream. My grandmother's words echoed in my head. Some come to see them after having one foot down the other world — death. When I came to realize the child was me, the images became crystal clear. It was him and I but we were not alone. I could see every creature around us just like I do now. As children, we'd often meet in the forest and afterward, I'd tell my dad my stories to which he responded with an odd look. The last scene was me, slowly becoming unable to see the other creatures.
It numbs my senses, dulls the voices I hear, and erases the passing shadows in my peripheral vision.
When the projection stopped, we were left staring at our own reflections.
"Inclan." His name slipped from my lips as if it had always been in my memory.
YOU ARE READING
Where the Woods Call
FantastiqueVoid of her past memories, Ami lives with the dread of the real and mundane crumbling under her feet. With her medication, she dulls the voices and watchful eyes on every corner. But on a summer vacation at the foot of a mountain, when she encounter...
