Where the Water Leads

~*One*~

   Truck tires turn right onto a dirt road, traveling further within the rural areas of remote forests.

   Dust trails behind Jared's blue Ford as it picks up speed. Trees continue to pass in a steady rhythm outside his window. Even after thirteen years, he can still remember the way; twenty-nine miles East from the city, through a little village called Gunther, right on route J, and another seven miles till he reaches the set of woods that his family owns.

   The truck bumbles along, coffee mug long empty and moving boxes shifting from the uneven ride. With the glass rolled down, Jared idly taps his fingers to a silent tune -radio untouched since he lost frequency after pulling off the highway, earlier. It's one of those perfect days that people tend to fantasize about...

   Mild heat, a cool breeze, and not a cloud in the sky.

   It allows his mind to wander, floating absently from one thought to the next. It's strange being back in these parts again. Once upon a time, he had slung a stuffed bag onto a shoulder, and took off without looking back. Neither aunt nor uncle could sway Jared to stay after the death of his mother. Accepted with a scholarship to an art school across state, he had easily made an escape from the burden of a shattered childhood.

   Now, just a week from his thirtieth birthday, Jared's returning with an old truck, a few boxes of junk, and twenty thousand dollar debt in student loans.

   It wasn't but two days prior, that Jared realized his dilemma and was somewhat shocked when both roommates admitted that they too, couldn't hold onto the apartment. Teetering on panic, he reached out to relatives through social media. Aunt Andrea, settled all his prominent fears.

'Come home.'

   Just thinking about those two words recieved through his phone's app, causes Jared's throat to tighten. Swallowing harshly, he withdraws his arm from the window and clutches the wheel. "Keep it together."

   Somewhere between his hormonal teen years and frustrating entrance into adulthood, there's a side to him that feels constantly exposed. It's easy for himself to get caught in mounting feelings and plunge into a torrent sea of whirlwind emotions. It comes to him unexpectedly or even foreboding. From within or outside factors. Whatever the source, it gathers Jared together, crumbling his control and leaving him lethargic afterwards. From years of combating this personal issue, he's created ways to face his problems.

   Yesterday, Jared packed his belongings with deliberate vivaciousness. Choosing to ignore any dread or stress in favor of drowning in hope. The false blinders helped him empty the checking account for gas and that loose change collected along the crevices of his truck paid for a swig of coffee.

   He's extremely grateful that Aunt Andrea is opening her doors to him. Even if Jared holds a share in the land and is nephew by blood, he never gave her any indication that he might ever visit, let alone stay. There's a lot that Jared's going to have to work through, between dealing with family relationships of the living and the dead. But if there is anything that his passion of art has taught him so far, it's that the choice of his own success rests with himself.

   Just ahead, there's a sharp fork in the road. A gaudy, purple mailbox stands proudly beside the left path, black cursive forming the surname 'Brair' on its side. He takes the turn, pale eyes appraising the trees that have grown right up on the trail. The forest density deepens as he steers along the curve that bends away from route J.

   Jared breaks while going over a creek, the makeshift bridge appearing newer and more sturdy than the one he remembered as a kid.

   Curling into the cab, a sinister breeze causes the hairs on both arms to prickle and rise. A strange tangy scent reaches him, along with an intangible weight that presses against all senses at once. The moment is gone as soon as his foot hits the acceleration. It isn't until the trees taper away into two pastures of condensed undergrowth, that Jared notices how hard he's gripping the wheel. Heart racing. Body awash with chill.

   'That was odd.'

   He hasn't felt such a creepy sensation since trying to sneak into condemned houses in his youth. Too quickly though, Jared's unease subsides, the event slipping into shadows as the further he drives, the easier it is to forget.

   What lingering impressions were left, disapate when Jared crests a hill and meets the handsome image of an a-frame cottage, it's stone side extending into the earth and the top level of dark wood built out onto a lake. Suddenly his chest swells with a tangled mass of joy, longing, and homesickness, all the feelings he's bottled from years ago.

   A smile stretches across Jared's face as he can see the figure of his aunt waving on the front porch. Thunderous barking from three Great Pyrenees reaches him and Jared blares the horn in celebration for all the world to know, he's finally come home.