Delirium (Creepypasta x reader)

•3•

The rest of the week was pretty normal, to say the least.

Work was busy - what with a shipment of new books needing to be stocked and general register management. Your shifts were comprised mostly of organizing the boxes in the back and slowly filling the shelves with their contents. You also covered one of Charlie's shifts at one point so she could make a doctor's appointment. Typical bookstore upkeep.

University kept you on your toes as well, new assignments, essays and tests that you were just able to juggle. You made sure to meet with your study buddy at the library to compare notes and complain about how many words and stupid rules there were in the English language.

You also went to Cathy's apartment, spending the visit eating fast food and watching the Labyrinth for the umpteenth time. The two of you spoke the lines alongside the characters, seeing how long either of you could go without messing up.

On top of all those things, you also spread a few hours out during the week to go to the gym, putting your membership to good use.

Customers; stocking shelves; tests; muscle strain; studying - everything was slowly wearing at you, weighing you down and making you weary; fatigued. So you went to do something about it.

Sunday was your day off, so you slept in; and when you finally got up you prepped yourself for going outside.

First thing - clothing for a long walk. You put on black t-shirt and sweatpants with your favourite jacket thrown overtop, and slipped on track shoes with a tightly woven double bow.

Second thing - your equipment. You dug around in a drawer and pulled out the cloth bag that held your camera, including the strap that you clipped it to and slung around your neck.

With a yell to your mom that you were going out and would return later, you shut the door. That action solidified the idea that the afternoon was suddenly yours, agency wrenched from the jaws of your carefully scheduled week.

When life got to be too much, when human interaction was a burden, your escape was the forest. It had been that way since you were in middle school; the boughs of the trees welcomed you, moss comforting your footsteps and little animal trails promising fascinating journeys. You could spend a whole day sitting in orange pine needles, watching the animals go about their lives and listen to the trees sway in the wind.

Where you lived was close to the lesser developed suburbs, large swathes of land left unsold and untampered with. There was even a whole street with only three houses on it - this was where you were going. Yes, it was technically illegal to walk on the property, but as long as you didn't start a fire or have a rager in there, no one really cared. And that certainly was not your intention today.

Your intention was nature photography, a great stress reliever and your second major hobby. Disappearing into the forest to photograph plants and animals and drink in the seclusion held such a great appeal. Though you only kept the photos to yourself, it was still a calming and rejuvenating experience.

You entered the forest through a lot that you frequented regularly, so familiar with the land that you knew where the animal trails went and ended.

This time, you found yourself in possession of a few interesting photos: an old felled log crawling with carpenter ants, a chickadee with sticks in its beak, and a cluster of small yellow mushrooms, among others. The trip was successful, and you could feel it in how your shoulders slowly lost their tension, how your chest grew lighter.

You had just stood up from capturing the scene of a snail leaning from one leaf to another when you heard the skittering of claws against bark right beside you. You turned your head up to see a small grey squirrel hop across a few branches, stopping to chitter down at you.