Ghostwood
As she slowly made her way up the mountain road, she decided to roll the window down and let the cold air fill her senses. It had been a long time. Over twenty years had passed since she left this town, and as she let her blue eyes scan the mountains, all those lonely memories came back to her. Had she really been that lonely? Or had it been her teenage mind and heart playing tricks on her? She smiled to herself. Even if she hadn't changed that much, she still knew the difference of being alone and feeling alone, and she knew that this town would include both.
Driving passed the sign, now modern with electric lights flashing and a population almost the double, she felt a sudden worry overwhelm her. But she had come prepared this time, she could fight whatever trouble she would get into. Whatever was lurking there in the shadows of the lonely Ghostwood, she would find it, and she would fight it.
The mill was gone. Completely. She looked with sadness in her eyes as she drove by a very modern-looking mall, with very modern-looking teenagers buying clothes and cigarettes, in the exact spot where the mill used to be. The river seemed smaller, as if it had dried into a mere stream, and it made her wonder if the waterfall had vanished completely.
But the trees were still tall and majestic, lining the road perfectly, waving slightly in the wind. Those trees had never been still, she thought. Not even in the driest, stillest of summer days, no, those trees had moved, as if telling stories. As if dancing to slow, slow music.
She reached to turn the radio off and a glimpse of a buddhist tattoo on her lower arm gave her a sense of calm. Someone had once told her a story about Tibet and it had given her more strength than he'd ever know. Him. The lost soul, lost, lost, lost somewhere deep inside Ghostwood. Him with his dark eyes and his kind words, his shy smile and his wise heart.
When she had woken up from the explosion, confused and lonely in the cold, green hospital, she had asked for him. Asked why he hadn't helped her, asked why he hadn't visited her. And they had told her the truth, but it hadn't made any sense. "Agent Cooper was traumatized in the the forest, he hurt both the Sheriff and doctor Hayward, as well as himself. He is in isolation." It had taken her aback.
She will never forget the eyes she looked into when she saw him through the isolation window. At first, she thought that they had taken her to the wrong room, but then she saw more of him. His cheeks, his hair, his lips. It was him. But it wasn't him. He screamed. And she backed away with tears running down her cheeks, rushing down the hall and never looking back. Something in those woods took her Special Agent away from her.
And it had taken her over twenty years to figure out how to get him back.
Parking the car outside the Sheriff's office, it looked exactly the same. She wore a black suit, and tucked her badge into her pocket. Her hair was a bit longer than her 18-year old self had preferred, her eyes just as blue and her skin just as pale. Stepping inside the police station, she pursed her lips as an older, but still very familiar Lucy greeted her. "Hi," she said, reaching out her hand, "I called you from the car. I'm Agent Audrey Horne, remember me? I'm here to take all the ghosts out of Ghostwood."