Prologue This documentation, sincerely told through a story, is my inherent search to be free. As decades compile through addition to sum up the simple word life, there seems to be clutter along the fray. Stragglers occupying shelves and rooms, sneaking throughout my thoughts during moments of solitude. It would seem that nostalgia knows where to find me. Yet as I categorize each fragment, dripping with its own name and a full persona, I slowly identify each intruder within myself. A knowledge that becomes the flint I dream will erupt new flames surrounding daily routine. And as I loosen my grip on the past and imprint each ghost into a story, I notice freedom. I dedicate this book to the very real cast of my life. My partner, my friend, my plant, and my family. Thank you for the collection of scenes I hold dear. For life is a movie, always. Forest City Shoreline Concept I have chased an aesthetic that defines life with two basic words, beautiful and haunting. For a while I guessed that science fiction would prove as a useful setting, allowing a blank canvas to illustrate both feelings. It would appear that my desire to often be unique, through any expense, has finally and potentially paid off. I have imagined a setting where an ocean, later turned lake, collides with a forest. Viewing the collision with a film noir aesthetic, placing emphasis on antique amber lighting, simple but futuristic technology, and this idea of two worlds living next to each other, Forest City Shoreline was conceived. Fog, traveling by canoe to little patches of sunken land, life on and off of the water, all surrounded by large evergreen trees tell my story. Please enjoy as this will be my fifth attempt at storytelling, each growing from the other in both writing and the overall concept. Chapter 01 - Let’s Start at the Beginning Somewhere lost is an open ballroom, with walls draped in windows. Evergreen trees mask peering beams of sunlight that dance across the forgotten walls with the moving wind. With each exhale, gusts paint joyous silhouettes of potential, swaying aimlessly as if an aged song conducts their movements. I have fumbled through the years to find the keys that open such an interior, but tired are my efforts. I dream of the sunshine that will capture my discovery of its utopia. My thoughts travel back through the foggy, misty air outside and land just as the digitized time on my workstation recycles itself to 17:00. I watch as the quirky symbol decorating my name on our work’s online chat changes from a green dot to yellow, emphasizing the superficial boundary set forth by Owl Architects as now time for oneself. Today this occasion of color changing signifies much more though, for it is Friday and alas my lips are parched. Wave after wave of birthday celebrations have slowly meddled with the days I find myself able to twist off a plastic cap and pour myself a stiff one. Perhaps responsibility was home schooled, projecting envy and control as it slips into one’s life. I turn off a collection of electronics on my neatly organized desk and internally analyze which exit route will be adorned with as few personnel interactions as foreseeable. Life has a back door and so does this building, but which to pick? I motion to my desk mate, aware of the anticipation growing inside of me, and decide to partake in one last conversation. I point at his security card and utter a familiar talking point between us. “You know when they wrote Sails Strathmore on your ID card, they should have written ‘not an experienced sailor' below your name.” “Very funny Atmos, I forget did they add ‘not a comedian’ below yours?” “Hardy Har Har. Anything eventful for you this weekend?” “If hours of music supplemented with filling up a sketchbook counts then hey maybe I’ll call a news reporter. What about you? Oh wait you’re too predictable on a Friday to even ask. Same as usual right, Deep Pines, searching with blurry eyes?” “Don’t make me sound desperate. I’ll head out to the Deep Pines tonight yes, but I’m going for me, not to try and find her. I know she’s not there Sails, I just like going. Nostalgia is always strongest in the evening.” “Well, as always, be careful. I don’t want to get an email Monday morning saying that I am now managing West Commons all on my own. It’s my workload I’m concerned about, not your safety.” Sails winked as he delivered the closing to his sarcasm. He was right to worry, the Deep Pines is dangerous and has been for a while. Long ago, before the economic boom that grew Forest City to the place it is today, locals like myself enjoyed the uniqueness of the small town. Positioned within an evergreen forest, the town harbors an ocean sized lake. A body of water so large that during the early settlement era, much discussion was had on what was actually past the horizon, an unexplored line seen by all. Trees begin to lose density as water replaces land at the shoreline. Posing as an accepted challenge, many decided to build within the lake, traveling primarily by canoe. The city limits spread far past the shoreline and created a town of two worlds, one that requires fish legs and one that finds comfort in white laced sneakers. All was well for decades, small businesses became clad in ivory towers and the population slowly grew. Then one day a bad apple appeared, a national pharmaceutical company that made sure to inject the slogan ‘for the people, by the people’ in every sentence uttered publicly. As those with money do, the company decided to set up a research and development facility far out on the lake, claiming that the integration with desolation suited the work they were to perform. As if striking a movie deal prior to ‘the incident’ a series of events unfolded that would forever change our landscape. A cargo sized ship carrying their research capsized. It would appear that the large roots of the forest had the final say on their plans. Their ship went down about two miles past the shoreline, into an area that is now known to all as the Deep Pines. Involving a little less conspiracy and a little more theory, whatever went down with that ship was rather toxic. The government acted quickly to prevent anyone from embarking out into the Deep Pines, constructing public service announcements regarding hallucinations, fatigue, and a handful of other ‘just safe enough’ words to release the company from responsibility. Out I would have stayed, scout’s honor, but I lost something during that time of glory. Exploring a wilderness where the forest harmonizes with deep blue water is intoxicating. I, as the four others that typically accompanied me, would journey out into this utopia often before the spill. Myself, my deskmate Sails, my good friend Sev, my sister from another mister Red, and my adolescent love Carmine. Adolescence turned teenage, and Carmine and I were placed on a path of tangled souls right before the spill. Yet a flaw existed, so devastating and urgent that it would usher in my demise, Carmine was stubborn. The accident surely altered our willingness to travel out to the Pines, but Carmine refused to come back. She stayed out there, she never came back, and I have been searching for her now for three years. Three steps left I tell myself to heaven. We were all changed after the renaming of the Pines to the Deep Pines, Sails and I ended up starting at the same architecture firm together inland, Red took the opportunity to leave town and remove her rear view mirror so as to never look back, and Sev took the most dramatic route. Riddled with courage induced vices, Sev opened up a bar right at the City designated line of the Deep Pines, coined with the name Sev’s Starling. He lived above his bar and found himself lost in the sauce of a good time. The others did not know that he and I still remained great friends. I stop at Sev’s Starling each and every time I venture out to the Deep Pines, looking for particles of the past. I grab the handle to the exit door and rifle through a checklist of what is needed before my voyage out tonight. As a true blue friend, Sev provides the night’s mixology, but I still tend to prepare for an overnight stay. I understand that I am at the age of certain unacceptable practices, such as passing out outside in the wilderness, but I have good reasons. I decide to stop by my neighbor Cameron’s before I head to the dock and as per usual look for an excuse not to leave tonight. “Atmos, whattup chief?” “Friday night jitters is all, how has the week treated you?” “I just got back from taking the train out of Zone B. Some kids were on board causing a ruckus.” An old steam train ran all over the city, it always has. Running through areas inland as well as a few newer stops out on the lake. An engineering accomplishment by all means, with the furthest train stop being to the research facility created years ago. The last two stops for the train were limited to only those who had the clearance to proceed forward, but as hatred of the pharmaceutical company grew, most train conductors would let anyone pass as a means to stick it to the man. Cameron worked at the research facility, taking the train from the shoreline out into the lake each and every day, having a collection of stories to tell of the nuisance that occurred on his rides. “Any spare fares you might have to get out to Zone B tonight? I could always use a break from my canoe.” “No go, I might be at top security clearance, but that doesn’t mean that bring my neighbor to work day exists just yet.” “Well, keep me posted. Farewell for now Cam.” Blame does not fall on those who look for a way out, halting their efforts temporary until they are proven unsuccessful. I pack my overnight backpack full with munchies, a flashlight, and a tattered map and take out my steel toed Friday boots for the night ahead. I rent a house only a half a mile from the shoreline, a perk I will gladly throw an entire paycheck at just to keep. Turning my porch light on, I signal to Cameron that I might not be back tonight but upon my return, I will turn off such a beacon of trust. The walk to my canoe, Caroline, is short lived, the shoreline is ground zero for the commercial district of town. Bars, clubs, and retail stores that are open far too late plead their case for you to indulge in their commerce. I stick to the plan and ignore all seductions as my first stop is Sev’s. It amazes me each time I am within sight of Caroline, as she is a faithful gal. The vessel is aged, worn, and loosely guarded by a cheap lock at the local dock, but somehow still remains. A combination of all 7s allows access to her hull and the murky water that will lead me to an evening of search and rescue. I produce a moment of hesitation before grabbing my paddle, maybe tonight will be different, maybe I will find something. They say love is in the details and when the moon hits just right, I feel in love in the Deep Pines. I pose for a demonstration on how to not row a canoe and chart a course away from the shoreline. The water feels gentle tonight, caressing my ore as I massage each wave. I find myself in the same thought each Friday night that I depart. Will this cycle find its broken tree limb, a chaotic circumstance that leads to a fallout with a different outcome? I fish for a snack as I allow the current to drive my canoe for a brief moment. An endurance snack bar rests in my hand, poking fun at my definition of endurance as it loses composure with its demise. As the amber beacon of light grows noticeable in the misty distance, I am relieved to know that Sev has not yet been shut down. Shades of grey he lives in, providing different shades of hue for his most beloved customers. I tie what I think is a boat knot, consisting of loop after loop of assurance for knowledge I have never gained and place my feet on the aglae-covered dock. My hand graces the door knob as jukebox music finds my ears. “Atmos! You had me concerned that I had the days wrong, but alas it is now certainly Friday!” “Sev, a pleasure as always, I’ll take three house specials.” The house special was a combination of high end liquor that needed to be purged from the top shelf. Drops, sometimes even less than an ounce of liquor left in a bottle preventing a new bottle from taking its place is emptied into a glass, shaken, and garnished with a twisted lemon. Few knew of such an order. “Three house specials for you my friend.” “Sev. May I ask you. Does tonight feel different for some reason, something in the air? Aside from all of the toxic fumes?” “Different? I’d frame it as special. The night sky is graced with a full moon tonight.” “Special is my specialty.” I watch Sev serve eight other patrons and proceed to empty all three martini glasses that once laid full in front of me. I motion for my departure and Sev kindly grabs a bottle of gin for my explorations tonight. “I swear I’ll return the bottle in one piece Sev.” “Take care of yourself Atmos, don't go chasing ghosts all night, come back for a few more drinks will you?” As I exit Sev’s Starling I bid Caroline farewell for the night. At some point Sev understood that it would be good for business to build a pathway to the Deep Pines from his establishment. Buoyant planks provide faulty rope railing a place to call home for roughly one mile until the Deep Pines. As I leave the makeshift entrance behind I notice that the accomplice in my left hand is now one third empty, quite the accomplishment depending on who you tell. I halt my movement and reach for the outdated flashlight in my backpack, along with the tattered map I have asked myself to throw out times prior. I declare purpose heading further into the deep pines, in areas still unmarked on my map. Perhaps the only other soul that may cross paths with me tonight is the one they refer to as Lee. In the thick of night, when darkness has blinded even the nocturnal, one can hear the whistling of exhausted lips, proclaiming a presence of comfort for the inhabitants of Forest City. A phoenix risen night after night, silently protecting those lost in the Deep Pines. Although it is common practice for everyone in Forest City to know the full legend of Lee, simple details regarding the story assimilate with each story teller. Beginning a salty conversation with a shop keeper on the subject will lend the fable to describe Lee as a tradesman. Take to a street corner and ask a gutter punk who the famed Lee is and they will tell you that Lee started off as a pan handler from the murkiest streets that Forest City offers. Regardless of the lips that sew the story, Lee is in essence a well regarded legend. Belonging as a statue one day in the city square, Lee is still the single greatest search and rescue operator for the Deep Pines. Those that are saved by Lee do not know much about their savior. They find themselves lost and in trouble, at times unconscious, and awake back on the shoreline with Lee’s signature moniker placed nearby with a hand scribed note. At some point an abandoned gas station was selected as the breeding ground to place such relics; it currently boasts 67 letters of hope. Each is simple in nature, but compelling enough to place conviction within its receiver. I continue further into the Deep Pines, noticing the air around me adorning a thick chemical stain. A fleeting feeling of uncertainty carousels around me once more in the playground of my thoughts. Throughout the years I’ve taken to get to know this ruined landscape, one area in particular has always been avoided, the Cliffs. Journeying in a group brought confidence in traversing the 50 foot rock face, but being here alone reduces my willingness to search its uninviting crevices. The Cliffs are noticeable from most angles of the forest, playing big brother to the trees that compete for the skyline. I pause for a moment and scan the monument for anything unique from my last trip out. Small trees with exposed roots litter the cliffside and proclaim their mistake in living. My eyes focus on a small glow coming from a dark patch ten feet above the ground, something I have yet to notice. Curiosity dictates my movements as I note the reduction in nimbleness I currently have. A side effect of the toxic air around me always includes regret, I fail time and time again to bring sobriety out with me to the Deep Pines. An accumulation of small water droplets welcomes my journey to this new mystery and adds a molasses lens to my vision. Not enough effort for an umbrella, but just enough magic in the air to polish the landscape in an oil-esk sheen. I take out my map to understand exactly where I am in the Deep Pines, mainly how far I am away from ground zero. Most modern maps will show in bold a large X, stating the approximate location where the tanker boat capsized. I don’t dare to venture out to that area, stories have circulated of people not coming back. My current location has been marked by some distant cartographer as a small creek running along the Cliffs. During the mornings that follow these Friday masquerades, I am at odds to decipher what was real and what was a hallucination. The oven timer alluding to when the walls will begin to cave in on me tonight has grown tired of constantly beeping, I will need to concentrate on reality soon. I approach the mysterious glow and notice what appears to be an anatomical heart, placed carefully alongside the roots of a small tree. There is a cleanness to the obvious hallucination, no cold blood or revolting urge to look away. A beautiful symbol, crafted by my mind tonight to clearly mean something. Whispers begin to enter my ear and I fear yet welcome what is to come next. My visitor, grown through the illusion I have chosen not to let go. I close my eyes and concentrate on the voice that is cluttered within the noise, strengthening her grip. An external noise appears and I look around for where the new actress will appear on stage from. “Are you familiar with the saying, Dearheart?” Only a silhouette can be seen in the distance, little streaks of light from the moon glow above illuminates the backdrop of a ghost. I focus on the question, and search to grasp the hidden shelf that holds such information. I grab the nearest foot stool and reach out for a once tucked away volume off my mind’s shelf. The moon becomes red, at least for me, and I begin to walk towards the shadow, a shimmering outline follows. Carmine red is wearing all black with not a hint of color found on any cloth draping her body. She had been facing the cliffside initially and begins to turn to face me, her smokey black hair rippling with the gesture. Her green eyes proceed to gaze down for a moment, before darting back up at me. Caught in a trance, I begin to speak. “Dearheart. I remember when a young girl once told me that it meant love eternal. It wasn't a definition she gave, she simply called me it. I somehow knew instantly its meaning.” An excitement bloomed in her eyes, my memory backtracking drew the blinds to some sheltered room where she kept her lesser known pleasures as her actions became further animated. “I want to go on an adventure tonight with you Atmos, somewhere special, somewhere new. I can be your tour guide and you can be my first customer. We’ll pretend all of it is real, ticket fares, a long line, and of course my charm.” “Perhaps I’ll want to speak with your superior first?” “Wouldn’t you just want to speak with me instead?” She made use of the little effort placed by both of us and stole the spotlight. Trained from conception, a thief in the act of role playing, portraying nothing short of a soon to be fantasy. A reassuring smile delivered her next remark. “I’d love to catch up, I really would but the train is departing. Are you in?” Her needle pointed eyes glowed as she awaited my submission to her request, a piercing gleam. I tend to lose control of the hallucination quite early, each time holding on to the hope that it is actually her that I am talking to. I never make it back out with her, but I explore the landscape by her side as if I never had left. Carmine walked out of the small covered spot we stood in and out into the rain, stopping in her tracks the moment water started pouring noticeably down on her. The small rain storm had picked up during our moment of introductions, reminding me how much she loved the rain. A forgotten fragmented thought that only appeared when cast. For an instance she seemed to be converted to a liquid state, an ice cube minutes before it was about to expire, yearning to return to its original form. Her back was to turned to me, but I had the faint idea she was smiling, marveling at her own unnecessary nature. Clearly this was her form of an invitation, seeing if I had it in me to follow her lead. Without any hesitation I moved out of the cover and towards her, we were both now under the cover of the rain. A barrier soon became placed around us, allowing the collection of spoken words to dissolve as they left our five or six foot circle of pattering noise. This curtain of water, unwelcome by most, felt as if to bring us both closer. She was beginning to turn around when I spoke up. “I’d ask if you forgot your umbrella tonight, but I’d wager that you don’t own one.” To elude she had been smiling was an understatement, her face could barely contain the smile bursting out, a voluntary explosion. After twirling her dripping body around once, eyes fully closed the entire duration, she continued with the exchange. “If I did own one, it would be envious of the times I didn’t spend dry. Enough small talk, the tour has begun and our first stop is by the overgrown edge of the Cliffs, somewhere unexplored by all. I’d be quite impressed if you’ve seen anything like it before.” Doubts began to seep in, quickly crushed by intoxication. This couldn’t be her, could it? Was I remembering her independence, conjuring an accurate duplicate of what was lost or was this real. Even the best hallucinations I’ve had out in the Deep Pines have solidified the notion that I can’t control her, even if she is of my creation. She wasn’t walking, nor was she skipping either. She had created her own version of an in between, mimicking the landscape around her as she explored the entire spectrum of capable motions. This presented me with an ongoing distraction, prying my eyes away from the scenery I was supposed to be touring. Minutes went by while I followed closely from behind, maintaining the ability not to stray. By this time my entire body had become drenched, the two of us now absent from possessing anything dry. A silence overcame me and I noticed the simplicity of it all. The red lit horizon began to disappear from view as an overgrown pasture soon stole our view. The openness making the rain appear overall quite stronger. This is where it nourished, behaving primal as it claimed ownership of what was below. Carmine halted, her hand raised to chest level, extending each finger towards the sky. A muffled noise could be heard up ahead, bouncing off the atmosphere the rain drops created. It had a repetitive nature, low on the decibel scale, and sounding similar to that of a snap. “Not too many people of this small ravine, but the excess water this rain creates does something marvelous.” My eyes followed her finger as it pointed to the distance. “And just what is that?” I asked with a hint of intrigue. “Some things aren’t meant to be described Atmos, I’ll have to turn you down at the moment.” Although I would not know the point in time where the toxicity would become too much, ushering a loss of consciousness, it would appear that patience would be a valuable asset at the moment with her. We had begun heading downhill and my mind chased several scenarios of what awaited us at the bottom. One last outcropping of foliage stood between us and the mystery Carmine had so elegantly been hiding. I arrived to an unobstructed view, water pouring into the landscape from every direction. A mini cove of water stood before me, the current of which was swirling clockwise, losing its composure by flat boulders that stood sporadically in its way. Each ripple adding its fair amount of bubbles and mist amongst the air. Towards the center of the mass, the water seemed to end its journey, dropping into an unknown cavernous ravine, small in size. Although up until now none of this seemed quite out of the ordinary, I did begin to notice an unusual presence about the center drop, the rain was accommodating the water to its demise. Without warning, a large eruption occurred from the center ravine, sending water straight into the sky. The liquid continued to eject outward, filling the entire area with a constant stream of upward flowing water. Little pops could be heard throughout the air, creating a symphony of noise. The collisions occurring between the two streams of water traveling in opposite directions making a noise similar to that of a snare drum. The newly airborne water must have mixed with something in the cavernous area below to create such a reaction. Each pop beginning and ending as a new one took its place. We had been standing there for a mere instant when she provided a short narrative. “They are disagreeing with each other, each raindrop. The ones just arriving collide with the ones caused by the eruption. The irony is….those drops, the ones that never reach the ground, their haven, are destroyed by the ones that already have. It’s quite seducing.” She didn’t seem to show any interest in waiting for a response to this rather scornful observation, but in a sense fleeing the scene instead. It was becoming clearer my role as a passenger in my own adventure. Bearing the sole title of catalyst, an excuse for her, or my vision or her to travel to this abandoned cove. Putting all motives aside, I found myself yet again ill prepared in the judgement of sightseeing or tracking her gentle movements. She began using the flat rocks as stepping stones, balancing between motions as her body pivoted to each landing. The mist that collected right above water level gave the illusion that she was floating, sandwiched between the parallel water streams. The eruption was beginning to die down allowing the rain to take its territory back. I took this opportunity to follow her lead, trying to memorize the succession of stones recently acquainted by her soles. I felt a small slip as my boots adapted from damp foliage to wet stone. I moved slow with the strong belief that should I fall in, this rendezvous would undoubtedly end. She never was the compassionate type, but she had dealt me in before I had even asked how to play. I was trailing behind, applying too much care with each step I took in pursuit. Carmine had been leading us closer, the rapid sound filling any void left between us. A faint vibration could be felt below us, it seemed as though this phenomena occurred more than once. I decided to brave one last step, leading into the bracing of my lower body. She didn't share my cautious reasoning skills as she was continuing her path to the center. It wasn't the swirling water or the rain that led any indication of the actions to come, but Carmine, she was unraveling. Not bothered the slightest by her soaked attire, she started with the less essential items, her leather jacket, boots, and began removing them. Her hands motioned towards her jeans, which were thrown in her newly made pile as well. The cardigan was next, although at this stage of water damage it was hard to tell its origin. She became almost bare as she willingly accepted the dampness of the situation. One foot after the other, she dipped herself down into the running water. Remembering that she had brought another companion along, she glanced back with a smile. I dared myself to get closer, disregarding the new level of wetness my boots might become as I debated stepping into the apparent shallow water. My gestures earned me another response as she began further explaining. “You’d think I’d be cold, out in the water like this, but maybe you’re the one who looks cold standing there by yourself. It all looks quite unbearable.” With the water level now at her knees, she continued to stare in my direction. “I bet you’re probably having mini conversations in your head at this very moment about how right I am. Just give in Atmos, to all of it. Get a little cozy getting cold with me.” The punchline delivered, and the cavernous hole erupted for its second time. I was much closer now to accurately judge these collisions for myself. Everything seemed to slow down around me, catching each crackle as it gave off a faint glow of light. She had been right, it was intoxicating, tilting my head in every direction to be greeted with the same scene. I stepped down to her level, through a combination of the constant rain and my now quarter submerged body I was upholding the definition of being wet to the fullest. I had accepted her invitation but unfortunately not much changed in our interaction. All around us the mini sacrifices were slowly exclaiming their desperation for something, anything to happen between the two of us once more. I suddenly ached for her to scream how she had brought me out here to seduce me, to tell me that she had been safe all of this time waiting for my return. This demonstration with water had been planned by her, the stage set for our interaction in the middle. Yet there we both were as she continued to twirl around in the waters current, stealing my lulled eyes with each movement. With a disobedient turn, I focused my attention as the pandemic died down, shorter lived than its predecessor. I had been far more wrapped up with her during its performance to truly enjoy it. As the rain muffled the sound, Carmine brought her attention back. “Now be a gentlemen and hand me the rest of my clothes” It seemed an absurd request, but I handed her each article of clothing she carelessly had removed prior. To really no amazement, she took each piece from my hand, but neglected to put them back on, maybe there was logic in her bones after all. The actions seemingly offending some foreign power watching over, as the rain began to intensify to a whole new level. The added circulating water made it hard to even see what stood in front of us. Fright itched along my neck as I worried that these hallucinations were growing out of control, the idea of leaving the Deep Pines sprouted in my mind. My thoughts were interrupted by her soothing voice. “I think that’s our cue to exit.” She motioned her hand due north. Getting out of the pond proved easier than I had imagined, but once out Carmine began to sprint. “Hey! Wait!” I could not help taking a desperate tone, my vision losing further focus. My clothes sloshed together as I ran after the assailant, running to some apparent freedom. She was quick, and her familiarity with the terrain aided the sudden flee. In the midst of the rain, I made out what appeared to be an abandoned shack in the distance. Its depleted features becoming more clear with my proximity increasing. Carmine ran up the stairs and poured in the front door without hesitation. After making it up the stairs, the open door granted my view of the interior. Someone had been here before, but I don’t know if it had been her. “I hoped you kept up! This place is so dull for just one person.” “Carmine. My head is spinning, I don’t know how much more I can be out here, following you. I had half a mind to turn around after your little sprint” “No one told you to chase after me, but I’m really glad you did.” She was doing a superb job of not necessarily apologizing, but somehow expressing joy in the situation. I was having a hard time distinguishing the sincere nature of the subtle gleam in her eyes. We were out of the rain at this point, but that didn't necessarily bring any comfort. She began to speak as she lit a candle in the center of the shack. “You’ll have to pardon if I skip all the boring details, those seem to be reserved for me in full attire. I’d guess that this evening's late night conversations will make an exception to those habits. You know I've been here before, this dirty shack. I've been to a lot of places that resemble these walls, hidden away from the world. I’ve come to enjoy them, and appreciate their shortcomings. It’s believing that these illusions are the true marvels of our lifetime, the pyramids, the ancient monuments, they all reside here. They provide an escape, and become your favorite…..well…..pleasure. Not just when it rains, but all the time. For a while it wasn’t just me inhabiting these walls though, two shadows used to dance to the chorus of the rain here. The man I came to adore, he grew tired, grew weak, but he couldn’t stay away forever, it was unavoidable. I knew he’d come around, back to where he belongs with me.” I lost sense of knowing what she was saying and what I was internalizing for her to say. Who exactly was speaking? She got to her feet as well, and began to make her way closer. She was at a whisper's distance, when I drew the line. “I want this to stop Carmine. Right now..” My back was against an old wooden dresser which didn't seem to show any recent use when both of her hands went into motion. Each hand was now gripping the sides of the furniture, trapping my body between them. “These last few years have been hard, they really have, but I've craved your pitted intentions, your thoughts scribbled all over these walls like old times. I wasn't sold on the idea that I hadn't become enough for you, that you'd leave me alone.” Her hips pressed hard into mine as her lips grazed my face. Not choosing her marks just yet, her eyes appeared to be staring into me, seeing the molecules and bonds that I was composed of. “I'm so happy you followed me darling.” Her lips showed a sign of impatience as they surged onto mine. I didn't want to further increase my feeling of not knowing what was going on, but new territory emerged. I matched her movements, and almost instantaneously our bodies became in sync. Predicting each other's motions as we lowered to the floor, I had no need of removing the clothes Carmine had already done herself. She had no intention of being gentle by any means, as each action used a fair amount of force. I was starting to find it hard to keep up, she knew exactly what she was doing, and what she wanted. The dirty floor provided us with a canvas, painting the portrait of unbalanced desire. Her hand made it around the back of my neck and dug deep into my inner scalp. Two hard pulls were used to mimic the conversation our evasive body parts were having down below. Not much time had passed before my body decided to end the confrontation for me. Her movements began to halt and in one swift motion she managed to remove herself from my body. It had started and ended in mere minutes. What seemed an overload of primal movements that had been stripped of all virtues. Still catching my breath and to my amazement, Carmine stood straight up. As if familiar with the carnage, she simply moved on to her next task. Rifling through an old dusty drawer she pulled out a pack of cigarettes, it would appear she did know this place after all. With no hesitation in her eyes, she lit the cigarette between her lips and gently introduced the commodity to where a fire had just blazed. After one large inhale she let out a great sigh, her pleasure from the action felt through the air. I must say I didn't share her forethought, as I still lay on the ground battling with my desire to leave this place. I focused my gaze on her, hoping to somehow provide a dose of sobriety, she stood peering out the window with a cigarette in her left hand. I grabbed my pants and was met with a sudden chill that ran through my body. It had gotten cold in this room. No longer relying on the body heat of my fleeting partner, I stood up and pointed my body in her direction. Maybe in a past life our bones had been acquainted after all. Somewhere warm, they grew accustom to the trail maps of one another. “Is there any way to light a fire in this shack of yours?” A disjointed slew of words and convictions joined my question. Coldness joined the collection of ailments I currently felt. “No fire has ever burned here Atmos.” She walked back to the drawer she had initially opened and scratched another cigarette out of the pack. Without asking, she lit another one and placed it in my hand. I don’t recall expressing my desire to join her in this after hours snack. She glanced over as if to say something, but instead produced a smirk. I reluctantly took a drag from the cigarette newly presented in my palm and kept my eyes on Carmine. “Have you forgotten what’s behind door number two?” She announced as if her next action was that of running a game snow. I shrugged my bare shoulders and made my way closer to her. All of a sudden she filled my mind, as if something had taken place. My waterways were all colliding in her direction, I had no choice but to follow the current. Her hair, still wet from the outside endeavours clung to her body as she turned away from me. Resuming her rather upbeat epilogue nature, she floated towards the rear of the cabin to what appeared to be another door. After a slow turn of the handle, a tattered door reintroduced the rain to the rather dormant room. It’s patter echoing throughout the area, meeting our ears with comfort. Carmine continued outside, cigarette still in hand and stood there. My hallucinations allowing smoke to steaming from the cigarette clutched in her hand. She had been outside long enough to extinguish the flame, but it remained lit. Her head tilted towards the sky, acknowledging some of omen for her sudden actions. “Carmine if this is really you, we need to leave this place immediately.” Spinning around almost instantaneously, the cold water newly introduced to her hair became airborne. Droplets praised my presence as I stood against the entrance of the back door. As if contemplating a second question to ask in its place, I remained motionless. “I’ve always felt as if the rain is like all of these mini conversations happening around me, all containing my endless thoughts. Come, dance with me.” As if ignoring my request, she began to sway side to side, awaiting my body heat next to hers. I looked over my shoulder at the front door to the shack and thought through the twists and turns we had taken to get here. I felt as if I was losing tonight and wanted at least the comfort of getting back to the entrance of the Deep Pines. Her head began to turn and she continued to what she was doing. “Offer has…...expired ! There is no room for doubt tonight.” I stared down as the moment passed by and took a final drag from my cigarette. Almost on cue, she came back inside, grazing my skin, and pulled clothes from out of the dresser. Not seeming to piece together what we had just accomplished on the floor, she shouted in my direction. “Hey ! No peeking!” In a state of appeasement, I stumbled to face the wall. How I had neglected to notice the imperfections it had to offer. I began to hear her footsteps approach the door and in a panic I spun around. “You’re leaving? Now? And wait, you’re leaving?” Her actions halted momentarily, and with a gleaming smile she faced my direction. “But of course darling, I have to keep you on your toes.” Exiting the shack, I began to sprint after her when finally my limit had been reached. My senses begin to close their doors, ejecting me off a spinning carousel. I am able to summon the courage to continue after her, but slowly I notice the horizon beginning to glow a sinister shade of red. A new found brightness blinds me, as if my hallucinations have leapt towards new effects on my consciousness. I fall to my knees searching for some sort of comfort on the earth’s surface as noises scatter the plane of my ears. As my sobriety exits this affair of confusion, the stage begins to grow dark. I call out one last time and hear footsteps, these bearing confidence. The glow around me pulls the closing string as the curtain drops and a crimson storm lulls me into a slumber. For one final second I open my eyes and see a bulky figure emitting a bright flame, outlined in a different hue that contrasts the horizon. This new warmth acts as a thick blanket as my lips echo my departure to the Deep Pines once again. “Who are you….? “..........” “........Just Breathe.” End of Chapter