Ethan Windfall and the Keepers of the Lost Realm: The Calling

Chapter Five: I Bullfight with a Bird

The claws of the shadows seemed to reach out from their hiding places, trying to grab me as I crept through the dark, gloomy forest. My only source of light was the sudden bursts of lighting that would seep through the gaps between the tree limbs, illuminating the towering trees that seemed to watch my every move. I had been walking through this cursed forest for at least ten minutes, but I was already miserable, tired, and completely terrified. If you've ever been out in the forest on a stormy night (and I hope you haven't), you probably know exactly how I feel. The rain was starting to soak through my clothes, and my calls were only by the howling of the wind.

With every step I took, more and more doubts filled my mind. Mom had told me many times to think and consider the consequences of my actions before I do them, but that's one of my flaws. I seem to barely ever think. That's usually what got me in trouble with my teachers and other kids, and now, I was stuck out in the wilderness searching for some wounded old man who was probably just apart of my imagination.

For the first time since I'd entered the forest, I stopped walking. What was the use? I needed to face the facts; there wasn't anyone who needed help in the woods, and my imagination was fooling me when I heard that voice. I had wasted my time out here. I decided that it was best to turn around, march straight back to where I came from, and..."

"I-I need help!"

For a moment, I could've sworn that my heart had stopped completely. The voice was so close that I felt like I could reach out and touch it. Before I even knew what was going on, I made yet another stupid decision; I ran towards the voice. I batted the limbs and branches of the trees and pushed away the undergrowth that seemed to be trying to stop me from the dreadful fate that I was headed straight for. My eyes were glued ahead of me. I was so close, I could feel it.

But the anticipation didn't last for long.

Suddenly, I hit a wet spot, and my leg was jerked violently out from underneath me. Everything after that went in slow motion. The colors of the forest seemed to swirl as I lunged forward. I had a glimpse of hope in my grasp as I reached out to grab onto the limb of the tree in front of me, but nothing could stop my fall now. I wrapped my hand around the branch before pain shot up my arm and coursed through my body, forcing me to let go.

You know how in movies one of the characters does something stupid, and there's always some terrible concequence waiting for them? Well, most people call this fate. Of course, I think fate is only for weirdos who have nothing better to do with their life. But of course, if fate was real, it was definitely kicking my butt.

Another sharp pain exploded in my shoulder as I collided with what just happened to be a huge, steep slope. The torment wasn't over yet. As soon as my arm came in contact with the ground, I started to roll, picking up speed as I shot down the grade. Somehow, I managed to not crash into any trees, but the thick undergrowth in the forest whapped my skin like a whip. The next thing I knew, I was on my back, staring up at the dark gray clouds stirring above my head. All I could feel was the wet grass brushing up against my skin, the cold raindrops streaking down my pale face, and the throbbing of my wounded hand.

Why was I so dumb and impulsive? Why didn't I just call 911 and let them deal with the problem? Whatever the reason was, I knew one thing for certain. I couldn't just lay here and pity myself until Mrs. Potter returned. She would freak if she realized her daughter was home alone, and the guy who was supposed to be watching her wandered into the forest and fell head-first down a hill.

I lifted my hand up from the grass and reluctantly held it in front of my face. My fingers were trembling and my skin was stained with mud, but the thing that caught my eye was the open wound that stretched all the way from my pinky to the left side of the bottom of my hand. I cringed, but it was less because of the pain and more because of the gruesome look of the injury.