1. Stranger in the woods

            “Don’t panic. Don’t scream. Don’t move.” The boy’s voice is different than the shadow’s, but has a vague resemblance. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”
            “How do I know that?” My voice is unsteady, and my arms are crossing over my torso in a defensive position. “You’re a stranger. You could have a gun. Or a knife. Or even-.  . .”
            He is takes a step towards me, his dark brown eyes mesmerizing. “Sh.” He puts a finger against my lips.
            I feel my heart jerk and my mind scream. This is a stranger! What am I thinking? Why am I letting him touch me? Why am I still here? How long would it take to sprint to my house without turning back? Then again, he could be a major running athlete or a wrestler, given his strong build, but thin body.
            My thoughts get executed after attempting to process because I find myself lost in his eyes. Of course I’ve seen brown eyes before, but this shade is so unique. It’s such a dark shade with still so much light.

“I don’t.” He mutters.

I feel a nagging inside me. A forbidden, wanting nagging. “Okay.”

He takes his finger off my lip and I feel a mental loss. What a strange thing to feel towards someone I just met.

“I’m Jared.” He says, holding out his hand.

“Twill,” I say, taking his hand and giving it a weak shake, then my thoughts dart back to the shadow and how it knew my name. “Um, what was that thing? The shadow? It said my name. . .”

Jared’s gorgeous brown eyes turn from warm, chocolate brown to a dark, intimidating brunneous color, but even with this angry expression, he still looks amazing and unimaginable. “It was nothing.”

“Oh.” I say quietly.

            He gives me a dazzling smile and his perfect white teeth flash. “Don’t worry about it.” His tone is calm now.

            I return his expression with a sheepish look, but look away from his now dominant eyes. That’s when I am a lot more aware of my surroundings. I gasp when I realize how dark it’s gotten. I can barely see the tops of the trees as the sun waves its last good-bye’s.

            “Oh! It’s gotten a lot darker than I thought. I should probably head home. . .” My mind leaps briefly to the thought of Jared pulling out some weapon and pointing it at my head, or maybe even a potato sack bag to put over my face, but the atmosphere is calm and his tone when he replies gives me no hint of threat.

            “I didn’t mean to keep you so long. I guess we just think alike, wandering around the woods! Sorry I spooked you at first. Not my intention. I hope you return home safely. See you sometime.” He casts me another smile and a quick nod before turning and disappearing.

            What an odd stranger. Offering such calm domineer in what at first appeared to be a cause-for-caution situation. Who knew wondering around the woods would open me up to someone I didn’t know.

            I tread evenly into my backyard and sigh, feeling the peak of exhaustion from a long day at school, encountering someone new and mysterious, and gunning it home. Thankfully, tomorrow is Saturday, and I get to spend it however I like.

           

 

            I wake up groggy. Having eaten little last night, only twirling my fork around a bowl of pasta, I bounced in and out of consciousness, awaking to a nauseating hunger that gnawed at my stomach.

            I sit up too fast, and know that the second my vision blurs out for a few seconds. With the knowledge that my body will be slower to wake up than my brain, I very carefully inch my legs to the edge of my queen-sized bed, but with the odds against me, it seems like my bed has expanded. After a few minutes, I’m on my feet, and decide this slow moving morning is too steady for me, so I speed it up. I walk over to my dresser; pulling out a pair of skinny jeans. I stare at them with an observing gaze, then nod to myself; mentally accepting them.

            Unlike most spontaneous, overly compulsive, fashion radical girls from my school, I only care if my wardrobe isn’t me. Pink; off my favorite cloth color pallet. Pink is “The Big Thing” at Connor Monroe Art School. Not for me. Blacks, grays, whites, navy’s, and maroon’s are my pinks, if it needed to come to that. My artwork wasn’t exquisite like theirs. But it had passion. Just because I didn’t always get a face absolutely spot on when sketching a drawing didn’t mean her rounded face with menacingly crisp blue eyes and fiery red hair wasn’t still beautiful.

            With fluid movements, I take a scoop neck, medium fitted navy shirt off a hanger in my closet and click the light off. I feel adventure wagging its tail by my leg and I can see the bright day ahead. Today will be a good day.

            I skip to the bathroom and grab my brush. This part of my morning would not be fun. I flinch away from the tangles as the bristles harshly yank out strands of my pin-straight red hair. Once I get past the painful wrath of my worn out brush, I dare not look in the mirror; afraid of how bad my pained eye-tearing up caused my freshly applied make up to run.

 

Author's Note

Tell me whatever you think of it.

Reviews

[Owlgirl]

You need to keep going Bryn! This is great! Speed write!

[TheAdamBryant]

nice first chapter ...... i am waiting for the next