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.
