There was a sweet smell of dew in the air. The park grass glistened iridescent against the pale moonlight amidst the shivering winds. The grass stretched along the cobblestones so tight that they seeped into the cracks between. The Mayor had half a mind to have them trimmed but Hazel was thankful she decided to keep it that way. “Has a natural charm to it.”
Hazel jaunted merrily along the cobblestone road. She was barefoot, feeling the grass and smooth stonework road that arched around the lake. She didn’t really like the lake, she didn’t know why.
She eyed the benches that lined it with a sudden familiarity. Something about them beckoned her for a moment. Strange how such an inanimate thing could be so alluring. She shook her head, ignoring it, then left the lake without a second glance.
Her eyes traced the shadows against the thin forestry. This was a beautiful place in the park. Light, day or night, would seep through the apertures between the trees above. Even now it was a breathtaking place.
She was mystified by it, the moonlight rays that peeked timidly along the road and throughout the miniature woods.
Again, she felt that sudden surge of familiarity. Her mind almost went blank, trying to draw the scene that came so close to mind.
With a silent grunt, she hastened. She didn’t really want to think about it. Hurts to think sometimes.
She found herself in an opening. There was a playground in the distance with a lonely swing swaying lightly in the wind. A tall hill banked against the road and ebbed closely to the forest. On the other side of the road was a field of grass with signs of a soccer field faintly etched along the grass.
Off on one side of the soccer field were green bleachers. They looked unfamiliar… and inviting. With a relieved sigh, she took a seat.
She sat there with a solemn look in her eyes, thoughts drifting into the past few weeks.
“Umm... evening, Hazel.” Belle poked her head out of the corner of her eye, waiving timidly at her.
“Evening.” She smiled pleasantly.
She liked her. Belle sold some of the most beautiful flowers in town. Cared for and bred right on her own backyard, or so her tags would say. Doctor Wyatt would give her a bouquet every year on Valentine’s Day or whenever he felt like it. She had gotten so many that reading the tag just came up when there was nothing else to do.
There was even that air of familiarity with her. She was a good-familiar, not like everything else that her grunting with duress-filled steps and shunning her thoughts that now seemed so precious in her madness.
Isabela took the seat beside her, giving her a genuine smile. “What are you doing out here so late?”
“Wyatt told me that I should try getting fresh air every once in a while. I don't like everyone staring at me every time I leave the house so I take my walks at night.”
She looked at her a little incredulously, then laughed. “Do you always refer to him so informally?”
