Chapter 4

Silence broke suddenly. Joey laughed. Histerically.

“Why are you laughing?” I asked with a smile.

“I hate silence,” he wispered in my ear, and then began to run. And for some reason I followed. I ran beside him laughing. Histerically. Everyone began to follow along. Also laughing like hyenas.It was fun. Rivetting, in fact. We felt free. We were free. Alone.

And then I remembered: were we really alone?

The first time I entered that fortest I did not feel alone. I felt like I was being watched. But this time something was different. I really was not alone, but I felt alone. So alone yet surrounded by people. Joey and I kept smiling at eachother. Something was different. I was different. I was happier. I was free. I was american. Ha, yes that was it.

I started to imagine eagles flying along our sides. They were not really there, I knew it, but I still saw them. But then I saw something else. Something I’ve seen before. A girl. Me. Just standing there in the woods, watching back at us. Like a ghost. Then I began to laugh again. What bull. That was not me. It’s just my head.

Chapter 3

As the trees began to endulge us, we were silent. No one saying a thing, but the breath of eachother’s lungs. I was still not done with my cig. My fag. My lover. My medicine. I had chosen not to bring any of my anti depressants. I was with friends, some that did not know I was SAD. Really sad. Only two of them knew: Joey and Steph. They were the only ones that knew that I once came to this forest for a different reason. They were the only ones that knew that I had tried to give up. But at that moment in which I was so close to giving up, something told me to stop. Something told me to not give up. So I left the forrest. Promised to never return.

I broke my promise. I broke it for them. For the thing that was pulling me back in.

Chapter 2

It was time to go. Something told me not to go, but I had to go, because at the same time something was pulling me in. Something made me have to go. The wind was blowing strong. The trees began to mosh. Like a mosh pit at a concert. Kind of like the mosh pit you would imagine at a Wavves concert. WAVES. A mosh pit that resembeled waves.

“Grab your bags, everyone,” said Steph grabbing her Care Bear duffle bag. I grabbed my cat shaped backpack, and my 80’s Barbie duffle bag, and began to walk. Slowly, but surely. I just followed. Walked behind everyone else. The grass was still squishy. Squishy and squishier as you walked closer. As though there was a pond we were about to step into.

I wanted to smoke, I brought two packs, just in case. But I knew it was not a good time to smoke. But my body was nervous. It needed one.

“Hey, do you guys mind if I smoke as we walk?” I asked.

Some of them stared at me like WTF no?

But Steph nodded in approval, and asked to join. So did Joey. He always smoked along with me. He and Steph were my smoke buddies. They were the only ones that actually approved. Kitty did not care, but she would never try one. It was not her thing. She was too much of a goody two shoes. I used to be a goody two shoes, when I still had a God. When I used to pray everynight. “Please God, don’t let anything baad happen to my family, my friends, my pets, and everything I care for,” is what I used to say. Sometimes when I was really scared I still said it. This reminded me of my parents. Of their preiching. Of how my father goes to church twice a week: once for himself, and once to makeup for me not going. He was afraid of me going to Hell. He was afraid of himself going to Hell. My whole family was afraid. That’s why they still believed. It was there ticket to heaven. It was there ticket to a longer life. A happier life. But what was my ticket? I did not need a ticket. I had my own faith. Faith in myself, and faith in the world. Though it was awful. Dreadful at times. But I still kept faith. I had to. It’s the reason I never called myself an athiest. I couldn’t. After years of believing something sticked. Believing in something stuck. Let it be myself, the world, or superstitions.

I kept thinking about what they qwere talking about. The clown. The suicides. I felt like everyone who had died in htat forest was watching us. I felt like the Clown was waiting for us. He had to be. But part of knew none of this made sense. How could they be watching us? How could he be real? How could he still be alive? How could I be so foolish to believe?

But sometimes faith attacks you. You believe the foolish, because something inside you forces you. Something inside of you pulls you in. Just like the forest was pulling me in. I believed in the forest. I knew it was there, but that’s different. That’s realism.

Let nothing bad happen.

Please let nothing bad happen.

Chapter 1

Here I stand, ready to embark on a somewhat rivetting adventure. But it’s cold. Really fucking cold. There’s a frightening breeze that sounds like a screech. It feels harsh, but somehow soothing. There’s a bristle in the trees that reminds me that that is my future. Those trees will soon be my home. They will surround me, and they will save me.

I am just standing, no movement needed.Waiting for something. Anything. Not saying a word, but my friends, they are loud. They are screaming, not like monkeys, but more like lost souls, telling me random things. Like how there has been murders in those trees. Someone says that the trees are alive, and that they will snatch you as soon as you stand on their turf. They tell the story of the suicides that go down in the forest. About the thousands of people that just come to this same forest to die. How back in the 1800’s people would desert their dying family members there. They talk about the myth of Circus Andy, a clown that came to town during a festival back in the 20’s. One day he was being laughed at by some kids, and for some reason he went mad. Just went stabbing along, as though clowns are not meant to be laughed at. They say how he ran away into a abondoned cabin in the forest, and lives there to this very day. And when he hears laughter he comes back out to stab again. Which does not make much sense, because if they knew where he was wouldn’t they have caught him? Then again the cops are pretty stupid in this town of Saintsville. They rarely catch anyone, but not much happens here. Only a ton of suicides, that echo in the streets. They repeat multiple times that Saintsville has the most suicides in the country. But me: Silence. I am listening to them, but honestrly trying to ignore them, because all their doing is freaking me more out.

I am trying to listen to the things around me. To the bristling trees that remind me of the sounds crowds make at concerts. Swaying. Slowly. Feels like a dream. Not one of those trippy wtf is going on dreams, but one of those perfect dreams where everything just fits. Almost like it’s reality, but it’s so much better. Then there is the grass below my size 8 feet. This green and slightly oramge grass that reminds you that fall is near. They make a squishy sound. God, they even feel squishy. Squishy. Squishy. Squishy grass. It feels like it rained in the near past. I begin to sway like the trees. Like the crowds at the concerts. My friends begin to make fun of me.

“Why are you just standing there?” Says Stephanie, whom is my best friend since kindergarten. She is model pretty, tall, thin, long wavy blonde hair, and doll faced. Always being told she looks like Allison Harvard, but really they are total oppostites. She’s a little strange, and little slutty, but I love her. Dressing in black jean short shorts that barely cover her ass, black tights, and a striped tank top. Even in this weather she dresses as though it is summer, but in her mesh backpack she failed at hiding a jacket. Everyone was wearing stripes. It was the theme of the day. Done especially so we would not get lost.

“Have you forgotten how to talk?” says Joey with his to his shoulders black hair. His eyes were large and green, and he was sweet. I secretly had a crush on him, and apparently he secretly had one on me, but we did nothing about it. We were too scared, but I planned to make my move of this very adventure. But my head was telling me no, yet my heart was telling me go.

“Remember it’s just one syllable at a time” says George with his hands in my face. George was a chubby boy. Loved his pizza, but all of us loved pizza. Pizza was the thing. We worshiped it. We call our group of 6 pizzatarians.

“Then some sounds” says Ezra moving his hands in a mystical jazz hand menover. Ezra was a muscian, and always brought is vintage guitar from the 60’s along. It was signed by Lou Reed. Now he worshiped Lou Reed. Well Lou and pizza. Ezra has short curly hair, and dressed as though he was from the 60’s.

“And then, all of the sudden,”says Jane, a great silence followed and then loudly and out of the blue, “WORDS.” Jane was a tad punk. You know as punk as you can get in 2011. Which isn’t very punk. I like believe punk died after the 80’s, but she would crucify me if I told her. Her favorite bands include: The Ramones, Violent Femmes, and Nirvana. She has short horizontal black hair, and always wore red lipstick.

“Ha,” I say still standing there, “don’t worry about me.”

“That’s hard,” said the final friend Kitty. Kitty is not her real name, but she does love cats. Like really loves cats. She has five: Cat Stevens, Luna, Salem, Moodshadow, and Daria.

“That’s what she said,” I say, smirking.

“Ha ha, but really,” she says with a stern serious face, as though we were not just joking around a minute ago.

“Yeah, we worry a lot,” says Steph widening her eyes..

“Like about this grass,” says Jane looking at the grass as though it was the enemy.

“Yeah, it’s so squishy,” says Joey tapping his feet..

“It might just ruin my shoes,” says Ezra looking at his feet.

“Oh no, not your 50 dollar shoes,” says Kitty in the most scarcastic tone of voice you can imagine.

I sniffle. Trying to remember if I brought clinex or not.

“It might just all be a lie,” says Steph

“We might just fall into nothingness,” says Joey in a very soft tone.

“Everything is nothingness,” I say looking at the grass.

“Ooh deep, ” says Ezra doing that hand thing again. He does it a lot.

“Deeper than the darkness that awaits us in that forest,” says Jane.

I smirk. Remember I did bring some clinex.

I love my friends. They always force me out of my comfort zone. Just the other week they forced me to go to a club. Most bazarre thing ever. I danced, yes, but I did not know what I was doing.I felt like a bafoon, and probably looked like one. I even tried dancing with Joey, but we both got so nervous that it just turned into Twilight Zone.

I begin to sneeze, a deep relaxing, but distraughting sneese. They all look at me. The trees shift. The grass shuffles. And my friends laugh. Then there are even birds, flying, but still noticing everything I do. The way I breath deeply and athsmatic. As though it’s the last breath I will ever have. Who knows, it might just be. They notice the way my hair shines green in the light, and slowly ruffles. With those few frizzy strands blowing in the breeze. My feet unable to stop moving, because I am nervous. I am scared. I am impatient. You can see it on my skin. My face. My bones.

My face is squinting, my mouth is slightly opened, and my nose is in distress. Allergies. Evil and wretchid allerigies. I should have taken my medicine, but I worried that taking it would waste my time. We begin to slowly shift. I move last. Wait for them to be infront of me. I just follow. Like a lost dog. One thick leg in front of the other. “Time for adventure,” is all I can think.

Prologue

Today I am parched, and everything is moving slowly. I am sitting in my bright green room, that is covered with vintage posters of bands like The Velvet Underground, Janis Joplin, and not so vintage Bright Eyes. My desk is cluttered with empty green tea bottles, and blank papers. Some papers have pictures of cats on them, and there is even a few filled out applications that I have been too freaked to turn in.

Yesterday was another glim day for me, but somr what exciting. I was through the tree filled streets. Took a right turn of Mathew’s Street into the appartment filled streets that are covered in ancient cars, all for sale. Took a left by the bowling ally, and another right on El Romano walked straight past the grave yard, that only reminds me how short life really is. And another right when I got to the mall. There I walked through all the starbucks, and chinese retaurants and companies until I passed Best Sale and got to the Beauty Store. Bought bleach, and a few cans of blue hair dye. And walked straight back home. I attempted to dye my hair blue, and that did not work. I bleached it for too short of a time, and it looks green. Well, fuck it I like it.

Another, fuck it situation. This summer I liked a guy, a lot. Like a lot a lot. I did nothing about it, but I’ve liked him for 6 years. Since high school. I am now in college. Saintsville college. HORRIBLE COLLEGE. Classes are huge, like 700 people per class. I never have had a single conversation with a single of my teachers. I don’t even think they know who I am, but one at least. One teacher that loved me. He told me I was a wonderful writer. Always wrote the best notes on my stories. He made me realize I was a good writer. He made me realize that all the people in high school that thought I sucked were wrong. He gave me confidence. I love that guy.

Today I am supposed to go camping with my best friends. CAMPING. ME. BAD IDEA. I hate the outdoors, but at the same time I kind of love it. I would probably like it more if it had internet conection. I respect nature. In a world without God, you learn to.

The other day I had a conversation with my parents about God, it did not go well.

“GOD, GOD IS EVERYTHING,” they said. They then began preaching to me reasons why I should believe in God.

“Without God the sky is darker,’ my mother said with a crooked dark smile.

“Without God life is shorter” my father said breathing deeply through his smoke infested lungs.

“Without God life is grimmer,” my mother said while glarring at my Grateful Dead poster.

“Without God there is no soul,” said my father said as a tiny piece of hair fell from his already bald head.

“Without God your soul is sad,” said my mother as though she did not hear the last comment.

Why would my soul be happier if I believed in God? But what is a soul, no one can give me a real answer. They just say it’s something we all have. Something that makes us us, and controls us. I personally always thought that was our brain, but whatever. But God, idk. I just think that God is something they need so they can have faith in something, but I don’t need a God, because I have faith in myself.

I don’t really know where I am going with this, I just know I want to write. That’s it. I want to write. So I am bringing this journal with me to this camping adventure so I can write about everything that happens around me. Like how write now I am just in my room, sitting, writing, doing nothing but that. Well thinking, a lot.

The other day I had a conversation with Sam about this adventure.

“Do I really have to go?” I asked.

“If you don’t you will regret it for the rest of your life, “ she told me with a stern face.

She’s right.