The Dreamer's Curse

The Visitor

[Chapter 8]

Joe's antics had gotten us stranded in the middle of nowhere. As much as I found his spontaneity endearing, he has clearly gone too far tonight. We had taken a detour after a picnic in Maryhill Park, and Joe had literally run off into Templehill Wood with his camera, leaving me to follow after him. I wrapped my winter coat tighter around me and looked about. My date was nowhere to be seen. What kind of a bloody person simply abandoned their date in the middle of nowhere? It was not decent—Joe or not.

"This is not funny, Joe!" I called out. As if he can hear me. I rolled my eyes and trudged through the snow. "Honestly, how do you expect me to find you in these woods?"

"Try," his voice rung faintly from the trees.

There was something eerie in the woods, and I desperately wanted to head back home. "Joe, come on, it's late. Let's go back to the car."

The trees shivered unnaturally behind me, and I turned around, hoping to see Joe's devious face. Instead, an unfamiliar boot emerged from the foliage. It was followed by a two metre tall (perhaps not two metres exactly) scrawny young man with short brown hair. He shoved his hands in his pockets. His square jaw was set, his lips were pursed, and his eyebrows raised, as if daring me to explain why I was there. My imagination went wild, and I did the most sensible thing I could think of. I ran as fast as my legs could take me.

"Wait! Hold on a moment!" the stranger called out. I ran even faster, snapping branches under my feet in the process. I emerged from the woods and bolted straight for the car. Joe was leaning against it, his camera still snapping photos. His well built frame quaked from his laughter.

"Not funny," I gasped. "There's someone there – in the woods. Let's go, now!"

Joe turned around. “There’s no one there.”

“Well, you obviously didn’t see him because you were too busy gallivanting around God knows where.”

Joe shrugged. "I could take anyone on," he winked. It did not calm my nerves this time around.

"You might be well built, but he's half a head taller than you are!" I snapped as I jumped into the driver's seat. “And can’t you be the slightest bit concerned?”

"Half a head? I'm five feet and nine inches, you know," Joe said doubtfully as he slithered into the passenger's seat.

I looked at him quizzically. "You Americans and your non-metric system."

He shrugged. "If he's six feet, it doesn't matter—unless he's burly. I'd be worried if he was burly."

I revved the engine and pulled us off the trail. "He wasn't," I said absently as we made our way to the cement paved road. "He was skinny."

Grandma Caroline was waiting out on the porch when we got back. She smiled sweetly as we approached. "It's a little late to be out, even for your generation, don't you think so?"

"I couldn't agree more, Grandma," I said as Joe nudged me with his elbow.

"Now, off to bed, then! Oh, not you, dear Jane, we must have another chat. Shall we?" Grandma Caroline pulled me into her room and shut the door, leaving Joe to fumble into the house on his own. She sat me down on the couch and tended the fire. It's a wonder Grandma Caroline was so healthy. Despite her wrinkled hands and her white hair, Grandma didn't seem all that old. "Jane, what happened tonight?"

"Joe's very spontaneous," I sighed. Grandma Caroline's lower lip tightened, asking for more information. "We ended up in Templehill Wood, and he just ran off."