Summer's Frost

Chapter 2

I don't own the image

Note: I have changed Eric's hair to brown.

       Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

       Groaning, I roll over and let my hand slam onto the alarm clock, shutting it off. My head hurts. I rub my eyes, and I focus on my alarm clock. It flashes 12:30 A.M. The flashing means I hit 'Snooze' instead of 'Off'. I fumble with the alarm clock in my hands until I find the 'Off' button and click it, and it stops flashing. I put it back down. Then I do a double-take. What is the time again? 12:30 A.M.?! That is not the time I set it for. "What the....?" I mumble, still tired. A malfunction of the clock, maybe?

       It's hard for me to back to sleep after waking up, as is normal for me. As I usually do when I wake up at an unusual time, I drag my feet down the carpet stairs to the kitchen. I fill up a glass of water and have it gone in seconds. Everything in the house is silent, the only noise is crickets outside. Looking out the window above the sink, I can see the Norton County Woods. We live on the edge of town, along with the rest of the houses that line our street, all facing the big park across the road. There's a big gap between two houses not far down the line, with a square of stone. It has a bulletin board with various pieces of paper pinned to it, all talking about either the woods or planned trail bike rides or walks. It has a glass cover over the front of it to make sure nothing happens to the papers. Next to that is a informational sign about the woods. A path leads from the stone to the woods, and deep into the trees. I can see the well worn path from the window in front of me.

       I put my empty glass in the sink and return to my room. I think about climbing back into bed, until I see a note on my pillow. I pinch the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. Please don't be Eric, I beg. Please don't be Eric. I pick up the note and read it.

       Stream. Arrow. Hand on mark. Meadow. ~Eric

       Eric. Of course. It has to be Eric. I don't even know Eric. We just met -- sort of -- at the cafe, and then he just appeared in my dreams. What the heck? I shouldn't be dreaming about a stranger.

       But something is tugging at me to so something, and I don't know what.

       Now I'm getting the feeling the dream and the note have a connection, as crazy as that sounds. I think for a moment. I can toss away the note and go back to sleep, or I can chase after the "Meadow". I know the obvious choice I should make. Sleep. I can't believe the decision I make instead. My reasoning is that I wouldn't be able to sleep if I didn't check this out. I have too much energy now that I haven't crawled back into bed. I have internal timer -- if I'm not back in bed soon enough, I'm awake. Completely awake. I'll just go, see no one is there, and leave, I tell myself.

       I change into jeans and boots, not bothering to change my pajama shirt. I throw on my jacket, thinking. The dream and note have two things in common: Eric and a meadow. What about the rest? What about "Stream" and "Arrow" and "Hand on the mark"? I reach the bottom of the stairs and turn left. I sneak quietly across the living room, knowing how squeaky the floor can be -- but also knowing where to step to prevent squeaking. I open the garage door, and close it softly behind me. I find my bike in the dark and wheel it out the back door.

       I speed across the grass behind our house until I meet the path into the woods. I ride along, trying to avoid branches and rocks. I'm doing this without any proof that I'll find something, just a dream and a note. Does the dream even count? I'll just go, see no one is there, and leave, I repeat to myself. This is my plan.

       After what seems like an hour, I come across a bridge over a wide stream. I cross the bridge and keep pedaling. I check off "Stream" in my head. Hopefully it isn't another hour before I come across the "Arrow" or "Hand on the mark."