Breathe in. Breathe out.
The greenery of the forest blurs at my sides. My legs pump faster, faster; my arms propelling me through the trees.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.
It becomes a chant in my head. My chest aches and burns with the build up of acid. Everything in me is screaming to stop as my breath becomes more and more labored.
Just a little further. Almost there...
My eyes catch the familiar blue chalk scribbled on the base of a large tree and I feel almost immediate relief as I slow my rapid sprint, leaning against the rough bark. I glance down at the black athletic watch wrapped around my wrist and press the "finish" button, already very proud of the numbers frozen on the screen: 18:42.
Not bad. Not bad at all.
Sweat is dripping down my forehead and my back, stinging my heated skin. I have to say, I'm beyond satisified with my time. It took me the longest time just to break twenty minutes a month ago, but I trained hard and long, not that there is anything else I can do. Life, for me, has been exceptionally lonely these past few years. It seems all I ever have is time; time to waste, time to do anything and everything I can possibly do. To some, it may sound incredibly appealing, but too much time can drive one mad. I would know.
I allow myself to rest for ten minutes before stretching a bit and, eventually, I start the three and a half mile walk back to the house. If there is any place I'm happy to live, it's here. My entire backyard is a vast forest, not a neighbor for miles. It's peaceful, solitary, albeit a bit too solitary at times, but I have grown used to it. I know this forest like the back of my hand, every tree, every pond, every stream. On nights that my dad wasn't home (which were and are still quite often) I would pack a bag of supplies, a tent, and camp out in the one of the many clearings that littered the forest. It was fun, I felt like I was on an adventure, like the ones I read about in books. I always wanted to go on my own adventure, visit lands I've only ever dreamed about, fight off villainous pirates and explore the world.
I sigh loudly. Only in my dreams will I live out my dying wish. The break in the trees comes into my view and I begin a light jog out of the forest and towards the large white house standing proudly, but, may I say, completely out of place in the rural setting. I debate on going inside and taking a shower; however, my eye catches a quiver of brightly colored arrows leaning against the paneled backside of the house. A grin spreads across my face. It has been quite a while since I've picked up my bow. It is a rather heavy thing, very mechanical and complicated looking, but it is much easier for me to actually precisely hit the target than using a traditional bow.
The first time I thought about picking up archery, I felt a little...embarrassed. I mean, I am living in the twenty-first century, the time period where taking up archery as a sport is closely akin to LARPing on weekend evenings (which I don't do, just so you know; I'm not that weird). But then I thought, whose going to see? It's not like I have many friends considering I was home schooled for the first eighteen years of my life. I attended the local community college for the next two years, learning quickly that I had absolutely no idea what I wanted to do with my life nor do I have any idea now.
I am currently an almost twenty year old woman still living at home and dreaming of things that will never, ever, come true. What a life it is.
Some may call me a loser. I prefer the term misguided introvert. But let's not bother with formalities. The truth is, I am a lonely girl who craves action and excitement. Let's face it though, nothing exciting ever happens to me. Unless you want to call making record time in a 5k race only consisting of one runner exciting.
God, I sound pathetic.
With a shake of my head, I draw an arrow and skillfully place it on the string of the bow, swiftly bringing it to the side of my face. I aim, I breathe, I fire. The whizzing sound of the arrow cutting through the air lasts only a second before the tip embeds itself smack dab in the middle of the bulls eye. And, of course, I smile in victory.
For the next hour, I shoot every arrow I own until the target and the ground surrounding it is littered with multicolored feathers and black sticks. The wind picks up a bit, freezing my arms that are completely bare due to the t-shirt I'm sporting. The chilly November air is crisp, my favorite atmosphere of the year. I always loved the transition from fall to winter. More importantly, I always loved hiking during this time. Which is why I quickly decide that maybe another hike today would be lovely.
I shower first and allow my long, dark hair to air dry while I grab a backpack and stuff everything I need inside. Considering, my dad is gone again (surprise, surprise), and I've always hated sleeping in this big house alone, I hesitantly debate on whether or not I want to bring along the tent. I mean, it's not as though I have anything to do or anywhere to be for the next few days as my job is less than remotely demanding. I'm lucky if I get three shifts a week at that damn convenience store, but it's not like it really bothers me that much.
Why not? It could give me a chance to venture a bit further west, a section that I am not as familiar with as the rest. I bring along toiletries and snacks, making sure that I do not over pack in any way as a heavy backpack is not very fun to lug around on intense hiking trips. I dress warmly, leggings under skinny jeans under slim, athletic pants, an Under Armour shirt under a thermal sweater under a rain resistant, black North Face coat. It may seem a bit excessive, but from what I saw on the weather channel, the temperature is supposed to drop to at least twenty-five tonight. No snow, hopefully, if I'm lucky.
After doubling up on socks and throwing on a hat, I lace up my hiking boots, slip on my gloves, and I'm out the door. It is a bit colder than I expected it and darker, much darker. Nevertheless, I venture into the forest, all the while ignoring the slight inclination that something was off. I can't quite put my finger on it, but my stomach feels weird, anxious. I feel very anxious. Waving it off, I continue along through the path I have walked more times than I can count until I get to the fork in the road where I kept to the left, going deeper and deeper into the darkening forest.
Almost two hours of me walking and the anxiousness would not disappear. If anything, it becomes stronger. The woods feel different this time. It's almost as if I'm being watched. By what, I don't know. And it is really creeping me out. Maybe I should go back, try again another day...yeah, I'll do that. The thought of sleeping here tonight is not settling well with me at all. Which is weird because I have never felt this before. Never once have I felt scared in these woods.
Just as I'm about to turn around, the wind picks up speed. And I mean really picks up. My hair is blowing wildly around my face making it hard to see. The sky darkens so quickly it seems as though the light was just...switched off. The branches of the trees crack and shake. The dried leaves scatter across the ground, some whipping me in the face or tangling in my hair. I don't know what is happening and it is freaking me out. I feel like I'm in a scene of Harry Potter or something.
That's when I hear the growl, low and feral. My head whips around to find the source, expecting to see a panther or a mountain lion appear from the shadows, but my eyes see nothing. Only darkness. Slowly, I back away from the noise, hoping that it is just my imagination playing tricks on me. I'm scared. People hear and see things all the time that aren't real when they're scared. It only makes sense.
Apparently that isn't the case for me at this moment because I hear the growl again. And it is loud. It rumbles lowly through the air, almost blending into the haunting moan of the wind and I waste no time in running as fast as my legs can possibly go. More growls fill the air along with the ear splitting whistle of the wind. My heart is thumping against my chest, my legs are burning, and all I see in front of me is a never ending void of darkness. I feel as though I'm suffocating, as the road stretches before my eyes like in those nightmares where the hallway gets longer the more you run down it. It's terrifying.
I'm running so fast without looking at the ground and the next thing I know, I'm face planting into the dirt ground. But I don't even bother to get up. All I can do is wrap my arms around my head and block out the frightening noises that sound throughout the forest. I don't know how long I stayed like that, curled up on the ground, hands covering my ears, and eyes tightly shut. My body is cramping and my mind begins to drift off. It's not sleepiness that is taking hold of me. It's almost as if I had been shot with a sedative, my body just shutting down without my consent.
I'm almost about to lose consciousness. Almost. But as quickly as the feeling came, it leaves, and all is silent. I make no move to get up, too afraid of seeing something I'd rather not see. Ten minutes go by before the muffled sound of footsteps gradually approach me, stopping only a few feet from my huddled form.
Do I see who it is? What if it's a serial killer? What do I do? Hop up and make another run for it?
All of my questions die down at the sound of an old, grumbling, yet comforting voice.
"Excuse me, my lady, but may I ask what you are doing?"