Invigoration

- Chapter 3 -

Chapter 3

LUCKILY, BRODY WASN’T HURT. He had plunged in to a deep pool of water; he felt the cold darkness envelop him as he frantically swam to the surface.

He was in the most spectacular place: saplings shadowed over the blue sea still around him, separated by rough cobbled paths, dearly manicured. Brody went on to notice some boulders surrounding the circular pool he had fallen in; he was lucky not to have fallen on one of them.  The overhang he fell from caught his eye next; it was hollow underneath; dark and deep.

It was all so perfect, so secluded, a whole level beneath the rest of the forest floor. Brody couldn’t work out why it appeared this way: the water feature encompassing him obviously wasn’t natural, nor the paths or even the saplings around him.

Brody laid back, the water, which was glistening under the sunlight, kept him floating on the surface. He had certainly found the most striking view possible over the valley.

Abruptly, a thick rose-tinted smoke began to enclose him, billowing from the direction of the overhang. Brody chocked as it continued to dance around him; he wondered if he had passed out; smoke couldn’t be pink. Its scent was acrid and putrid: Brody could no longer breathe.

Soaked, he climbed out from the water, and kept close to the forest floor, trying to find a way out through the smoke. As he was doing so, the smoke began to float away in the gentle breeze, becoming thinner and thinner.

He had to leave: he frantically tried to find his phone to call someone, before remembering that he was, probably, one of the only nineteen year olds not to have one!

Something strange was happening.

Brody could now see that the smoke was, indeed, coming from underneath the overhang. He froze in his tracks as he saw the spectre emerging through the smoke, towards him.

Once again, he felt warmth and comfort as it moved outwards. Therefore, he decided not to move: he wanted to confront the spectre at last.

It was an old man: very old. Sporting a thick long beard, whiter than snow, it disbanded into many curls as it reached his waist. His eyes, staring sharply at Brody, were small like beads, but yet large with wisdom. His dry face was cadaverous, as was his body; a scar ran across his left eye down to his cheek, its broad size, depth and ghastliness suggesting a painful past and the lack of care given. His head hung from a noticeable hunch; his body was crooked; but yet he moved effortlessly, as if he were centuries younger.

He almost tripped over his beard as he continued to walk towards Brody; a smile slowly began to emerge on his face, forcefully pushing his wrinkles, and scar, upwards.

Brody wasn’t sure how to react; he worried something would happen to him.

The spectre paused a metre from Brody, before his smiling lips began to boldly utter words.

“What brings you to my corner of the woods, young man?” he asked, perking his chin up, as he waited for an answer.

“I-I-erm, I don’t mean to trespass, sir, I’m sorry, I think I’ll be going now” he stammered, as he began to inspect ways to get back on top of the overhang. “Don’t leave!” the spectre pleaded, finding his way over to hold Brody back, as he walked towards a bank. “You can’t!” Brody stared blankly at him as he rolled his eyes in dismay – he no longer cared – he just wanted to leave, quickly. “I’m sorry, I really don’t want to bother you, and I must leave… NOW!” Brody replied, forcefully breaking away from the spectre as he began to scramble up the sheer bank.

“NO! Come back! I’ve bothered you, so you can do the same to me!” he cried, as his voice began to croak. Brody swung back, feeling that he had just confirmed that he was indeed the same the spectre who was haunting him. Reluctantly, he slid back down the bank. “You’ve bothered me?” he questioned, casually. The spectre didn’t reply. He turned back, and returned to the dark hollow, now clear from smoke, but still pitch black within.