(A/N: A little something that came into my mind during class. Couldn't help but write it. Hope you enjoy this random ficlet of mine)
Title: Apparition
The dull crunch of the snow resounded through his ears, his boot sinking foot-deep into the thick, white slush underneath. His inhale was a shaky draw and his exhale, a fading mist. The crowd of trees flanked him in all directions, stretching out as far as the eye can see; bold and thick, blank lines against the tender ivory of the snow. The closeness of the trees seemed to catch all sound as well, absorbing it and deafening any unsuspecting soul that happened to wander in. It was far too quiet for a forest, he concluded, holding his breath and straining his ears for something, anything that could hint that there were other forms of life around. The grey-tinged sky above him was a background to intricate silhouettes, ebony lines sketching out and carving abstract art against the clouds. He wasn't the type to admire nature, but, when everything seemed so dead, even the most insignificant things managed to spur mild interest.
The cold border of dead trees hindered him from the lush, emerald pine forests ahead. He could see the deep green spires reaching out in the horizon, distastefully obstructed by the mass of spindly, naked branches.
It was when he was just a few dozen steps from the livelier forest that he had to remind himself why he was there in the first place. It wasn't too easy with the wind whipping at his neck and the winter air biting at his fingertips. Even despite the thick outerwear he had carefully picked out, the icy coldness still managed to slip in. Needless to say, he was uncomfortable.
Hey! Hey, hardhat!
For some reason, Scout's annoying exclamation was the first thing to slip into his mind. Many other voices followed: fragments of conversation, unanswered questions and the boy's constant urging to be paid attention to. Gradually, as he shorted them out, he pieced together the discussion his team had been so engrossed in the night before.
"You wouldn't believe what I heard!" Scout had stumbled into the living room, his sneakers squeaking loudly against the linoleum before quieting down to soft thuds upon the carpet. Whether intentional or not, the boy had managed to catch everyone else's attention in the process.
"Well, now," had been the Texan's casual reply. His fingers still plucked at his beloved guitar, continuing to play his soft little medley. "What did'ja hear, exactly?" Everyone listened in, even Spy, who was trying to feign disinterest.
"I heard," he paused for dramatic effect, a smug look on his face. "That the woods 'round Coldfront…" a bandaged-wrapped hand motioned to the window. "Are haunted."
With that, most of the mercenaries continued their own conversations, no longer interested in what the runner had to say. Needless to say, not many of them were enjoyed his pointless, attention-seeking tendencies . Noticing this, he gave a small furrow of his eyebrows.
"Naw," Engineer said simply with a small smile on his lips. "You know ghost stories ain't true, boy." Even though he had said it so matter-of-factly, the strumming had stopped.
"But," he protested. "But it's true!"
"I von't hear any of zat, Scout," Medic had frowned disapprovingly. "Ezpecially zince ve just transferred."
"Let the laddie tell us 'is story, doc, you dun't hafta worry a'but any of us havin' nightmares," Demoman had slurred from the corner. The physician had remained silent at this, turning back to his book with a 'hmmph'.
"Yeh, I'm a tad interested as well," Sniper spoke up, his hands polishing the barrel of his namesake rifle. There was a round of approval as a few of them either nodded or murmured some form of "go ahead"s to the boy.
Much to Spy's disgust, the Bostonian seemed to glow at this and the Frenchman could've sworn he saw his head inflate.
"Well, this old man in town told me," he began. "That if you got to the forest of pine trees east of our base." He pointed north. "You might bump intah the ghost!" Scout fell silent after this exclamation, proudly beaming. Spy coughed and cleared his throat, but was paid no attention. Instead, the boy trod over to the crackling fireplace, casting a long and lanky shadow across the carpet.
"Don' leave us in suspense nah," Engineer commented, humouring him. "Did'e tell you how this ghost looked like?"
"Yeah, I was jus' gettin' to that," the boy grinned. "The man said it was the ghost of Little Red Riding Hood!"
And with that, all seriousness of the conversation had been promptly shattered like a rock to a stained-glass window. Half of the room erupted into loud guffaws – the loudest contribution obviously Demoman's.
"Dat be a good one, laddie," he snorted. "That be a good one."
"But that's what the man said!" he seemed crestfallen, though Spy didn't see a reason why. It was the most absurd ghost story he had ever heard.
The resounding crunch of his muffled footfalls caught his attention, the man re-emerging from his recollections to find the bold, strong trunks of many a pine blocking his path. The narrow, sloping routes between the trees were slightly daunting as he eyed the virgin snow in consideration. He hadn't known what had spurred this 'little walk' through the woods, but he wished he had now as he stood at the mouth of the forest, watching as the swaying shadows danced on the glimmering earth. In between the green branches overhead, the afternoon sunlight had slipped through, causing the icy snow beneath to shine brightly amongst the morphing greyness. Silence seemed to echo from the woods, he couldn't explain it any other way. It was as if the quietness itself was resonating, rippling from an unknown source in the heart of the cluster, decreasing in intensity and non-existent volume, to brush against his face along with the winter breeze.
The eeriness caused him to hesitate slightly.
But just slightly.
Berating himself for feeling intimidated by the inanimate trees, the Frenchman gave an exasperated roll of his eyes as he proceeded forwards. He knew this little ghost-hunt would probably prove fruitless and he was just wasting a perfectly good ceasefire morning, but an indescribable urge pushed him forward. Spy was usually not the type to follow instincts, instead relying on fact and probability, but a certain something told him that he should continue. The invisible sloping trail through the pine trees was an awkward one and the man found himself stumbling more times than he would have liked.
It was when he was a good way into the forest when he heard the second pair of footsteps.
Out of instinct, he pressed his back against a nearby tree, his wrist held out and his sleeve rolled back. The blue-ish green light of his cloaking device glowed in the semi-darkness of the shadows. He kept his eyes moving, scanning the area to catch a glimpse of the additional presence. Was it the RED team, out hunting again? Or was it just the BLU Scout, having returned from another day at the nearby village?
Or maybe, it was the ghost.
He scoffed immediately. That was stupid, ghosts don't walk. Or did they?
There had been no time for more unanswered questions, a lone figure had appeared and spurred him to hastily activate his invisibility watch. Spy had to hold his breath to keep himself from making any sound. His eyes widened.
Little Red Riding Hood.
Surely enough, a young girl had emerged from behind a tree, the characteristic crimson red cloak hanging from her small shoulders. He could see gloved fingers – slender and small – grasping at the edge of her hood, obscuring most of her face from view. All he could make out of her visage were the tender curve of her jaw and her pale, pink lips. They were neither smiling nor frowning, he noticed with mild interest. With purpose, the ghost seemed to stride forward, snow clumping at the toe of her boots as she walked. Behind her, she left a trail of irregular stripes against the ground, the tip of her cape brushing over the small mounds as she advanced. As she neared his hiding spot, Spy realised an intriguing feature of the phantom: there was an orb of pulsating light encasing her frame. He had never seen anything like it.
C'est magnifique... he thought, watching as sparks of purple-tinged lightning surge across the sphere. It was as if she was stuck in a snowglobe, an eternal winter.
His awe was short-lived, though as the unmistakably hum of his cloaking device filled his ears, catching her attention as he unwillingly reappeared. Mentally cursing his luck, he gave his watch an angry glare before looking back at the ghost.
She was gone.
"Violet, what did I tell you about wandering off on your own?"
The girl heaved a long sigh as she made her way back to her family's winter cabin. Her mother stood on the wooden porch, arms folded and foot tapping against the floorboards. The accusing gaze she gave her caused her to pout in return.
"I was just exploring, mom," she retorted, lowering her hood to expose her face, her cheeks tinged pink from the cold.
"Well, it's dangerous," her mother lectured lightly, a disapproving look on her face. "Hurry up and get inside before someone sees you." She turned on her heel and stepped inside, leaving the girl named Violet in the middle of the silent clearing.
With one last glance over her shoulder, she gave the scenic pine trees a knowing smile.
(A/N: I honestly don't know where this came from, but yeah... Though I'd share it here. Please review or fave if you liked it)