Shadowbrook - 2021, Present day

ɆⱤł₭₳

The smell of freshly cut grass drifted across my meadow, clippings scattered over the turf. The branches of my giant oak tree swayed to and fro in the wind, shedding leaves like raindrops.

A cordate leaf landed on my shoulder—the green fading into patches of brown, signalling the start of autumn.

I'm dreaming again, aren't I?

The meadow was my happy place, a destination that filled me with joy as I spun in circles, trying to catch the leaves with the palms of my hands. From the momentum of twirling around, a few leaves ended up in my unmanageable hair. I tried picking the leaf from my short strands, but it flaked into tiny fragments, crumbling against my fingertips.

I dreamt about spending time here because it reminded me of Mum and the happy times we shared. We would visit the local park not far from our house. All the other children would run to the swings or the climbing frames.

Not me, though.

I loved watching the different seasons unfold. The way the sun turned the vibrant green leaves to a golden brown, curling around the edges.

I used to hunt the playground for the perfect set of leaves and crunch them with the bottom of my shoe, hence why my favourite season was autumn. For me, it was the process of change that I admired. Our surroundings undergo a constant transformation, bringing me closer to nature. I cherished being in the present moment.

The meadow looked picturesque, like one of those John Constable paintings. The scenery had the same balance of colour with light and shade in all the right places.

It was perfect weather for an outdoor picnic as the sun shone and no clouds were in sight. I imagined the sweetness of the strawberries on my tongue, satisfying my cravings. Dad would bring sliced pineapple, and we would eat them together. The contrast between the two sent my taste buds into overdrive.

A dull ache formed within my chest as I reminisced about days gone by and wondered once again why I was alone. Heartache, perhaps? Or is it not knowing what the future will bring?

I kicked the grass clippings with my converse and pulled up the sleeves of my woolly jumper, letting the rays of the sun soak into my washed-out complexion. A collection of trees and bushes guarded the perimeter of the spacious meadow. The colours of the leaves and shrubs mixed like a well-used artist's palette.

A figure between the olive-green shrubs caught my eye, and as soon as I noticed them, they vanished from sight. I furrowed my brows and stared at the empty spot where the figure stood a few moments ago.

Okay, I'm officially hallucinating.

I fiddled with my oversized jumper and hid my hands underneath my sleeves.

My aunt Adalee bought the jumper when she was on vacation in Switzerland and thought I would grow into it.

News flash, Aunt Adalee, I'm still a short arse with tiny arms.

I stopped growing when I hit fifteen.

What can I say? Puberty hit me early.

An insect flew past and landed on the bark of the oak, its turquoise wings spread out to show off its beauty. I crept up to the oak to get a closer look at the dragonfly without scaring it away.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" said a masculine voice behind me.

I jolted; my sudden movement caused the dragonfly to flee as I spun around to face the stranger.

"Did you know there are five thousand species of dragonflies in the world?" The boy in front of me raked his fingers through his hair, tucking his blonde curls behind his earlobe.

I rubbed my eyes with my fingertips, hoping he was part of the dream.

Nope, he's still here. Great, he's staring at you like you're a freak. Say something.

"Have you been watching me this whole time?" Stuffing my hands into the back pockets of my jeans, I tensed my shoulders in defence. I focused on the dandelions as I squashed them with the tip of my shoe, afraid to look him in the eye. It didn't help the matter that he towered over me, for he had made me weak.

Clearly, this guy has no clue about personal space.

"No. Of course not. I like to take a moment and witness the miracles nature brings." He lifted his hands and touched the bark of the tree, tracing his finger along the rough indents. "It's easy to distinguish the type of tree by its specific bark."

Somebody's been paying attention in his Botany lessons.

I was on full alert, scanning the vast area for other pedestrians. He could be here as a distraction, reeling me in with his quirky facts until his accomplice puts a bag over my head.

What if he kidnaps me and places me in the boot of his car? If only I had listened to my dad about the pepper spray.

A primitive warning sounded in the back of my mind like a voice of reasoning.

If he isn't the same guy that was watching me, then that means he is still out there.

"Wait, Erika." The boy held his hands in the air, surrendering. "I'm not here to hurt you."

Oh God, I knew I should have made a run for it.

I jerked backwards and found the courage to stare at his captivating cobalt blue eyes. "Who the hell are you, and how do you know my name?" My voice sounded confident, but inside I was nervous. I never did like confrontation.

Maybe he goes to Bromley High? The school is big, so it's easy to forget somebody's face, but how could I forget a face like his?

The boy tilted his head to the side, watching me with deep interest. "We've met before. My father is friends with your dad. I was at your dad's fortieth birthday barbeque, remember?"

I couldn't remember seeing him there, but it was a large venue with dad's family and friends. Perhaps he was sitting with a bunch of dad's friends and their children.

"Oh, I'm sorry." I wiped the layer of sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand as the increasing fear simmered. Even though the guy had an explanation, the threat was still present.

Raising a brow, he gestured with his thumb. "Your nose is bleeding."

Using my index finger, I dabbed at my nostril, needing to see for myself. Specks of blood coated the tip of my finger. The nosebleeds occurred more often than they should.

They're a real pain in the arse.

"I'm sorry, but I don't have a tissue." He patted his empty pockets.

"It's okay," I said and leant forwards, pinching the soft part of my nose.

Clouds of grey mist seeped through the trees and headed our way, making it harder to see into the distance. The atmosphere turned colder as the powdery layer of fog covered the sun, casting a gloomy aura. The balmy days of late summer became a distant memory as wintry weather took dominance.

Once the boy saw the invading blanket of mist, he panicked and grabbed my shoulders. "They're watching us."

"Excuse me?" I wriggled from his grasp, disliking his closeness and his invasion of my personal space. "What are you talking about?"

His eyes darted around manically, waiting for something to pop out at any second. "Do you trust me?"

"Absolutely not."

A black silhouette stood in the distance. The dense fog made the shape blurry and distorted as if my eyes were playing tricks. What the boy said was partially true.

Someone is watching us. 

"I believe you." My voice quivered as his fingers wrapped around my wrist, leading me half-blind into the unknown.

The mist crawled along the ground, forming puffy clouds and dispersed into the air as we sprinted past.

Dragging me across the meadow, I tried keeping up with his long strides. "What are they?" While I was conflicted about the boy's intentions, I could see that whatever was lurking in the mist had made him on edge. His complexion took on the same ash-white colour as the haze.

"Something you don't want to mess with," he replied.

My breath hitched in my throat as we ran across the uneven ground, stumbling over my feet in the process. A warm sensation spread through my chest, constricting with each breath. The burning crept up my oesophagus and threatened to leave my mouth.

I slowed down to a jog, my lungs on fire. My shoulders heaved as I rested my hands against my knees, gasping for breath.  "Wait. I can't."

"We haven't got time for this," he ushered, tugging on my sleeve.

The loose strands of hair framing my face were damp with sweat as the mist circled our legs, knee-deep in thick vapour.

The guy yanked me towards him, bumping into his sturdy frame. "Erika, wake up," he said, urgency in his tone.

A/N

Word Count: 1,502

What are your thoughts about the mysterious boy? He's a bit of a weirdo, right?

Do you think she was actually dreaming or could it be real?

Have a fangtastic day!

(㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

(One of John Constable's paintings I used as inspiration for this chapter)