Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
This world around me is stunning.
It makes me realize coming out here was the right decision. Getting away from the city, away from my abusive asshole of an ex, and everything that was dragging me down back home was absolutely the right thing to do. My mind and my heart already feel clearer. I feel like I can breathe. And I feel like I can smile for the first time in a very long time.
I’m able to take some photographs without hearing his voice in my head, telling me how amateurish and pathetic I am. Without hearing him tell me I’m not good. That I need to give up this dream because I don’t have what it takes to make it. Telling me I’m a failure and chasing my artistic dreams is stupid and ridiculous.
This stillness in my head is powerful. The lack of that voice telling me all those horrible things I’ve grown so used to hearing is jarring. It hasn’t been this quiet between my ears in so long that I’m almost not sure what to do with myself.
With a smile on my lips, I raise my camera and take a few more shots of another buck I spot downstream. A moment later, he’s joined by a doe, and together, they stand side by side on the riverbank, drinking their fill. It’s such a beautiful moment, and my heart is filled with such an abundant and powerful happiness that a tear of joy spills from the corner of my eye and races down my cheek.
The sharp snap of a branch echoes through the trees, as loud as a gunshot, shattering the serenity of the moment. I nearly jump out of my skin, and the two deer downriver turn and bound away.
“Oh,” I gasp.
As I sit on the rock listening, I hear a furtive footstep rustle the undergrowth. I don’t know how, but when I hear it, I know it’s not an animal.
There’s somebody out there amongst the trees.
Goosebumps crawl across my skin, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. Being a woman in the city, I’ve learned to trust my instincts, and right now, they’re telling me to get the hell out of here. That somebody’s lurking out there. And in my experience, people don’t lurk in the shadows like that with good intentions.
Quickly gathering my things, I stuff them all into my bag and climb down from the rock. My skin is tingling and my heart thunders in my chest. The forest has fallen silent. The birds overhead have stopped singing, the insects have gone quiet, and none of the critters that call these woods home are skittering through the undergrowth. It’s like I stepped into a vacuum. And the sheer silence around me is eerie.
My stomach twisting into knots, I follow the path back the way I came, keeping my eyes moving as I scan the trees around me. As I walk back along the trail, I hear somebody shuffling through the undergrowth, sending a white-hot bolt of fear shooting through my veins. Whoever is out there is following me! I stop and turn in a circle, searching the forest. The footsteps stop.
“Hello?” I call out.
I wait for a beat but get no reply. Swallowing hard, I start to walk faster, and the footsteps resume. But sound is distorted out here, and I can’t tell where they’re coming from.
I start to run.
But whenever I look over my shoulder, I can’t see anybody back there, which only terrifies me more. As I run, I feel like I’m teetering on the verge of a panic attack.
Tears stream down my face, the joy I’d felt just a moment ago melts away as terror grips me. I sense whoever is back there is closing the gap between us. The back of my neck tingles like their fingertips are brushing my skin. A choked sob bursts from my mouth as I lower my head, grit my teeth, and pump my arms and legs harder and faster, running as fast as I can.
They crash through the bushes behind me, and they sound even closer. I try to bite back my sobbing, focusing on putting all my breath into my lungs to fuel my flight. And when I finally round the bend and burst into the clearing where my cabin sits, I let out a cry of relief. I dash across the clearing and up onto the porch, throwing the door open, then slam it behind me. I throw the locks then press my back to the door, my breath ragged and the tears flowing once more.
I move to the window and peer around the corner. At first, I don’t see anybody out there. There isn’t anybody lurking in the clearing or among the trees that ring it, and for a moment, I start to worry that I’d imagined the whole thing. That my imagination got the better of me and I mistook an animal in the woods for somebody chasing me.