Birth of a Drifter

There's a house deep in the woods that everyone talks about.  I had never seen it myself, but I had vaguely dreamt about it.

People tell me to stay away from there, that there's a ghost.  Others laugh at the thought, saying it's just a figure of an angel in the window, an old decoration from a Christmas long ago that had become worn out, the paint dull and pale.

On All-Hallows-Eve, I decided to see for myself.  I was scared but I was also drawn.  It must have been my dreams.  Dreams always make things feel magical, even if they're vague.  Maybe its the haziness of particular dreams that have this effect, that they leave me wanting to know the full scope of my sleeping journey.

Our small town trick-or-treats in the day time.  I never knew why.  Everyone here has always seemed over-protective.  I lied to my parents that I was going out with friends.  I was going to the woods instead.

Despite the fact that it was daytime, it was grey; the sky full of dark, looming clouds.  When I got to the woods, a slight fog arose.  I felt like I was dying.  That probably seems like a strange thing to say, but it was true.  It wasn't a painful feeling, it was peaceful in a way.  The atmosphere seemed mystical, like I was disappearing into the foggy nothingness to my eternal rest.

The journey was dream-like. It was also much shorter than I expected.  It is my belief that time and distance did not exist there, not in my usual perception.

I walked to the house from the side.  Or maybe I was drifting there, I don't know.

They were right, it was an old Christmas decoration, but in no way did that make anything normal.  It was one of those mechanical, moving decorations.  The house was abandoned, and there was no reason for the angelic figure to be moving.

I can't say much about the appearance of the house, other than that it was old and painted white.  My focus was on her, the angel.

The closer I got, the more life-like the angel seemed.  Once I came within just a few feet, she was no doubt something more than a decoration.

Yes, the repeated, mechanical movements remained, and her dull appearance was still present.  But she appeared as a living, breathing being.  Her eyes stared emotionless ahead of her, far into the distance and beyond.

I just stood there, myself staring.  I can't say how long.

Then I started to cry.  I don't know the reason.  Tears ran down my eyes, I was sobbing uncontrollably.

Having my face buried in my hands for awhile, I looked back up to the angel and noticed the glass in the window was broken.  When I saw this, I felt fear, extreme fear.

Everything went dark.

The next thing I know is it's morning and I'm in bed.

Of this story, that is all I have to say, and this is the last time I'll speak of it.

7-19-10