I caught my breath. This was so strange...the page kept fluttering just out of my reach and before I knew it I was in the mouth of the woods...actually further than even that. I stood up straight and looked around me. All around me were trees, huge dark things that seemed to loom like solid shadows. They crowded out the morning sun and I was bathed in the gloom of a seemingly innocent forest. I looked around for my sketch, about to give up and re-draw it later when I heard a crinkle of paper. I looked up and there HE was...my sketch. Come to life. Holding my art in his hand. The paper was worn from earasings and being tugged and stuffed in and out of my bag. He opened it up, smoothing the wrinkles from it's windswept journey and smiled.
"It's a very good likeness. You have a wonderful talent for detail. You even captured my smile." He said mockingly and then flashed the jagged smile with it's tiny filed teeth. I gasped and backed against a tree. It felt like cold stone behind me. I spoke through trembling lips.
"W-who are you?" I whispered brokenly.
He laughed lightly and stepped toward me. He was right...he was exactly like the drawing. His eyes that were narrow and wide again like a cat. His thin yet toned body, dressed in a flowing robe, and clothed underneath I could see with scarlet tunic and midnight blue hose and ornate black knee high boots with a dangerous point at each end. His thin hands ended with nimble pale fingers with pointed nails painted silver. His thin face was framed by that shining russet hair that glowed with shots of dark gold and black. My eyes went wild in the filling of his image although I knew it all by heart already. He had been the star of my dreams and nightmares since I could remember.
"Don't tell me you're that shocked to see me?" He laughed lightly. "I have sent you messages and don't tell me it isn't so. This is the proof." He held the sketch. Then, he clenched it, crumpling. "This by the way, is dangerous. Did you know that? Well it doesn't matter now," He unclenched the ball of paper that was now just dust in his palm. "It's gone."
I couldn't even reply. My tounge felt thick in my mouth. I knew what was coming next. He had told me a week ago, in a dream. In a place much like this. He had stood before me and told me plain as he said it now, and as he walked foward and came face to face with me, his cool breath falling heavy on my skin:
"You belong to me now, Renee."
