|OUT OF THE WOODS|

Branch, tree, stump... That's all I allowed my mind to think of, getting out of these woods. It was dark. I couldn't see anything but black outlines. It took everything I had not to run into a tree, or trip over a log.

Larson was behind me, I thought. The last time I saw him, he was frozen solid staring at the beast.

There was a house in the distance. I could see the white siding.

I dug harder, pushing myself towards the house. I shoved the terrible image from my mind. I keep thinking about it's red eyes... Stop it Harley, focus!

No more woods. I was in a clearing. A backyard. My eyes danced over the yard frantically, accessing my options.

Grill, patio, chairs, umbrella, one window on the second floor. Not much to work with unless I plan to barbecue the beast.

Something caught my eye. Vines. Maybe not strong enough to hold me, but it's worth a try. I need to get in that window.

I grabbed one and pulled hard. Nothing happened, I'm good. I focused on my hand placement, choosing the thickest pieces.

Suddenly, I felt booming. The house was vibrating. It was familiar to me, I know what's causing it, I just can't think of it.

Then I heard what was supposed to be words, but my ears could only process the muffled sounds. Music, with bass.

I recognized the song. I've heard it before. Here, in dead people land. My memory! It's the song from my memory!

My excitement ended too soon when I realized that if I'm hearing the same song, then I'm in the same memory, just a different part.

Apparently my climbing triggered it. I knew from experience with the last one that I had to let it play out. I decided not to fight it, I needed the information from it anyway.

Climbing. Music still booming. People laughing in the distance. I was almost to the top. This memory wasn't that bad.

I could feel the burning in my arms from the intense climb. My hands slipped a few times, but I caught myself. The ground was too far away for a safe fall.

My feet finally found a small ledge to rest on, and my left hand dug in my pocket. It reached something cool to the touch, and sort of grainy.

I pulled it out in front of me. It was a white stone. The size of my palm. I had taken it from the flower bed below me. The reason though, I was unsure of.

My body continued the actions of the memory, whether I was paying attention or not. A crack followed by glass shattering ripped me from my previous thoughts.

The window in front of me was larger than most, and split into only two sections, a top and a bottom. I had broken through the bottom part of it. What am I doing?

My right hand chiseled away at the remaining shards, while the left held my balance. This is crazy, why did I break into someone's house?

Both of my hands held tight to the window sill while my legs attempted to swing through. Finally one sneaker caught onto the sill, and I was able to pull half of my body through. I felt a sharp pinch on one leg, but I concentrated on getting in.

I fit through the window, but just barely. My foot touched down inside the house, relaxing my pounding heart a little.

I reached down to grab my injured leg. It was moist and hot. Memory Harley didn't bother to bandage it though, she kept moving without a second thought.

Ghost Harley needed to be on the look out; I could see my killer in this memory, maybe solve my whole mystery.

My head turned to scope out the room, but I could barely see anything, it was so dark.

My hand dug a phone out of the purse that hung by my hip. My phone I assume. I used the screen light to maneuver through the dark room until I reached a dresser.

I shuffled through papers, finding a blank one. I looked around until I found a pen, and then I removed the cap.

The point touched down in the center of the paper, and I carefully began to write. The pen flowed slowly across the page, only lifting up a few times.

When it was finished, my hands held the edges of the paper tight. I imagine the first time I wrote this a lot was going through my mind.

But now, the only thing going through my mind was why? Why did I write this all too familiar phrase?

It's your fault this happened..

My blood was suddenly a thousand pounds of solid, unmoving mass. My heart wasn't beating anymore, and my veins felt as if they would explode.

The memory moved right along without me, folding the paper a few times. My fingers found a tiny drawer, and they placed the note in, closing it back up.

The drawer had a glass front, and memory Harley took another second to take one last look at her strange message.

No way. No way this memory is what really happened. I refuse to believe that.

Suddenly the door swung open, startling me so much that I stumbled over. Instead of landing on a nearby chair, I landed in Larson's arms.

"Harley, what are you doing here?" He asked.

"I...I...memory." I said. My eyes were wide open, surfing through the tidal wave of dark thoughts. This isn't still a memory is it? Larson is here now. The music is gone.

The light from the hall flowed into the dark room, shedding light onto more truth, or rather adding more mystery.

We were in my old room. The crime scene room. But, I'm starting to second guess the clarity of what I previously thought.

If this is my old room, then why did I break into it? Why did I leave myself a creepy letter?

The real question now is whose house is this? It can't be mine now.

Larson lead me to the bare mattress, and we both sat down. I tried to explain to him what happened the best I could.

"Maybe this is your house, you just left the note behind for someone else to find." He offered.

"Why would I break into my own house?" I asked.

"Why did you break into it this time?" I could hardly see him, but I knew he wasn't smiling. I could tell he was wearing his concerned face.

"I was running from the beast. I didn't know where else to go.." I answered.

"Then you could have been running from your killer the first time you broke in.."

I hadn't thought of that. Maybe I wrote the note to him. I started to relax a little, to think more rationally. There is probably a perfectly good explanation for all of this, I just need to gather more information. No one can piece together a puzzle with only a few pieces; it would never make sense.

I need to focus on getting new memories.

"We walked all that way for nothing." Larson blurted out.

"Walked where?" I asked, confused.

"Around that whole lake. We walked all the way from town to the dock, when it was right behind your house the entire time."

I giggled. Leave it to Larson to think of something stupid like that at a time like this.

We were quiet for a while. I was snuggled into his chest.

"Harley, are we gonna talk about the beast?" Larson said. His voice was almost a whisper, like he was afraid the beast would hear him if he spoke to loudly.

I had almost forgotten about it, though I'm not sure how. It's image flooded back into my brain.

I could barely see it from the hill top, but I knew it was huge. It had no color. It was just dark. It couldn't even be described as black. It was somehow darker than the blackest of blacks. It was more of an absence of color really, like a black hole that sucks things in. Perhaps people's souls.

The only color it had was it's fiery, red eyes. Even though I was so far away, I knew it was looking dead at me, through me to the core.

It didn't howl anymore once it saw us, and that's because it knew it had caught us. The beast could have taken us if it wanted to. I know that for a fact. The way it moved, it was so fast. Almost invisible. It was everywhere. To and frow around the lake.

It's pointless to hide. How do you hide from something that is everywhere? How do you run from something so fast?

You don't, that's the answer. You wait on its decision, because when the beast decides it wants me, it will come for me.