Crescent Bound (65 page)

Quickly glancing around, the forest itself never changes.  The sound beckons once I
’
m through the gate.  I think that anyway, since things seem to change so sporadically here.  Taking my steps tentatively, listening to the crunching sound of my footsteps. Some trees appear normal, with healthy green leaves
, but
others are dead, as if lightning stuck about half the trees here.

I
’
m walking through a half alive, half dead forest.  Continuing, I follow the musical sound,
looking up to the coal dark
sky and see
the moon
is in its first quarter, half a moon.  That means days have passed? 
Just how long had I been asleep or whatever... I was
.  My body shakes from a cool breeze that travels past me.  The unearthly tone becomes lo
uder as I approach a large pine
tree.  Soon understanding the noise, it
’
s from a music box.  Kneeling down behind the tree I see a small burnt box, it is a child
’
s music box.  Charred so badly I can
’
t tell what
the outside once looked like.

The unnerving
melodies
play as I pick it up, I gently pry open the lid and the music stops.
Generally, doesn
’
t the music play once the lid is open
ed
?
  I wonder, but this isn
’
t just any music box.  It is Naomi
’
s, her childish laughter rings throughout the woods around me and then she says in a unhinged voice,
“
As you are now, So once was I, As I am now, So you must be,
So prepare for death and come with
me
.
”
 

Chapter 41

The box in my hand makes one last hard twanging sound and just dies.  I throw it down and move to the tree, putting my back against it, searching for her.  She can sound as if she is right beside me breathing down my neck.  Then, in a blink of an eye, she
’
s suddenly every
where, all around me. A tear streams down my cheek, my hands tremble as I feel around the rough bark, the hair on the back of my neck raises. 

Readying myself, I have absolutely no idea what I will do, if anything.  Running is always an option, because in here there is no hiding. Then out through the mist of darkness, I see an image about fifteen feet away in front of me, a figure, Naomi.

Sh
e wears a solid black ritual rob
e, her hood covering most of her visage
, but
strands of the brightest red hair I have ever seen cascade down to her chest.

She shifts closer, now only about five feet away as her robe drags against the leaves and dirt.  Her head is in a downward position and still I can
’
t get a good look at her, it
’
s shrouded in darkness. Unearthly noises bellow through the trees and then start drifting along with her.  With each movement she makes the deranged howls follow. 

I don
’
t need any
more convincing, I jet out and soar like an eight hundred horse powered engine, running madly through Naomi
’
s twisting enchanted land.  I run past burnt trees, liv
ing
trees, shrubs, then to an unusual uneven stone path.  Tripping and stumbling, I notice it leads to some kind of stone grave ma
r
kers with one lone wooden cross exactly like the one from my dream. There are three small grey headstones jutting out of the frozen graves.

I spin around and sprint off in another direction.  I
’
m running through the wicked woods and I can smell smoke.  The more I head in this direction, the closer I come to this familiar scent, it
’
s getting even stronger.

Melted metal, car upholstery, and the combination of the different plastics and chemicals, I slow down enough to get a glimpse of a Carmengia car up in flames. Turning once again, deeper into the forest, I swear under my breath and amble onw
ard.

Maddening laughter fills the night air behind me.  I dash to my right and rest beside what appears to be a weeping willow tree.  Placing my hand on it and peeking around the tree.  I want to make sure I am alone.  I know though I am probably not really ever alone here.  My gaze falls on a tall shimmering frame, of sorts, leaning against the tree I
’
m next to.

I inch myself up to it, once I see my own image staring back at me,
it
’
s
a mirror with a brass frame.  I reach out and touch it.

It
’
s
definitely a mirror, it feels real, it looks real,
and my
refection looks just like me.  Glancing around nervously
, I don
’
t
really want
to analyze this mirror in the woods when the essence of evil embraces the darkness all around me.  I need to keep moving.  Sounds echo off in the distance making me shake to
the
bare bone. Glancing back over my shoulder, I don
’
t see anything, when I take a look back into the mirror I
’
m smiling, but here
’
s the thing...
I
’
m not smiling
. 

Darting from one tree to the next, on
my rampage
I hear my own heavy breathing. I can
’
t keep this pace up
forever;
finally I slow down and find another tree to lean on.  I move a bit to see what is around me when my boot kicks something on the ground.  Swallowing hard and bending down, I brush my hand across whatever it is, which is covered in dried half burnt leaves.

Another mirror lay
s
face up on the forest floor.  I have to blink and rub my eyes a few times to fully comprehend what I
’
m seeing.  I
’
m standing now looking directly at it, but the ref
l
ection shows an entirely different view,
it
’
s
the backside of me.  I
’
m looking at my own back.  I kneel down and the other me kneels down as well.  S
t
ill looking at the reflection, I can see my long tangled hair down to the middle of my back and my tattered shirt. 

I observe every movement making
sure
the other me doesn
’
t turn and look over her shoulder at me.  I begin running again making sure I don
’
t give
it
a chance to.

Abruptly, I stop in the middle of the woods, leaning down trying to conserve some of my energy. In the endless witching hours, I see the moon in its waxing gibbous stage, which again means somehow time or even days are escaping me.  I know the next faze for the moon will be full.  From a new moon to a completely full moon takes fourteen
days total.

Movement comes from my left, and I slowly turn to see what
’
s lurking beside me.  Another large tree with limbs up high, and that is when I see the flickering of the huge mirror dangling from one of the lower branches.  Hanging there by an old rotten rope latched to the back of it, just swinging in the nonexistent breeze.  The twisting gnarling sounds from the rope twirling the mirror back and forth send chills over me as I examine it.

Not really desiring to look at my reflection
, but
none
-the-less I do it any
way.
I peer into the image and staring back is just the same appearance as the other mirror had shown.  I touch the tips of my hair and so does my reflection.  I gently touch my face, same results.  Without any
warning my
hair begins turning colors, like
its
bleeding red from the roots all the way down, into a very bright red.  Under some bewitching spell, I
unwillingly blink
my eyes and once I open them, they are no longer blue, but green.

Standing with shaking hands I grip my jeans, instead though, I grip the black robe I saw Naomi in.  I feel a horrifying, blood cur
d
ling scream seep out of my own mouth. 

Standing behind me, in the reflection of the mirror, I see what looks like
me,
and I look exactly like
her
.  In the reflection
it
’
s
as if Naomi and I switched into each other.  I bolt into another dead run.  This time as I run through the woods, hundreds of mirrors appear everywhere.  On the ground, leaning on the trees, and even hanging from the branches.

I can
’
t take much more of this
, I tell myself.
It
’
s
like living in a nightmare. No,
it
’
s
not even my
own;
I
’
m living in Naomi
’
s sick and very demented nightmare.

I come upon an opening ahead of me, but a massive oval mirror hangs in the middle.  If I hadn
’
t been looking forward, I would
have
slammed right into it. I stare in the mirror
, but
I don
’
t see my reflection or hers.  Thick chains intertwine around the tree and hook into the haunting elaborate wooden trimmed mirror, making it suspended in midair.  It appears like someone has strapped the gigantic speculum in chains as some kind of delusional display.

It dangles before
me;
I stand here breathing hard when suddenly the mirror
’
s image appears more vivid.  Looking in through the glass, my stone monument of me is there and I see my tombstone, with my name still engraved on it.

Marc walks into the view and I immediately reach out to touch the image.  He kneels down beside the stone
monument;
slowly he covers his face with his hands in despair.  I whisper out,
“
Marc
.
”
and then I wonder maybe if I yell he can hear me, so I start screaming his name desperately at first
, but
then in warning him... over and over.  Touching the image of him, I quickly realize he can
’
t hear me at all. He turns around abruptly to see what is standing a few feet away from him.

It
’
s Naomi, but her appearance is like me.  I begin banging the mirror with both of my marred fists, calling his name.  As Marc stands up she shifts away and he moves quickly too
, but
to no avail she
’
s already vanished.  I watch as he glances around slowly taking in his surroundings, and then it seems as if he
’
s yelling something out.  He
’
s calling out my name.

The image becomes completely distorted and I no longer see anything.  Eagerly, I try to wipe the mirror with my
hands;
just as suddenly
as it became distorted it
becomes clear once more.  Naomi
is standing
now behind me, a sick, mischievous smile curls around
her redden lips.  Her arm rises
out to me, the robe slides down a bit as her bloody finger inclines upward.  Her smile twists into a gasp as her voice invades inside my mind.

“
Want to know a little secret...
Alyssa
?
”
  I stiffly hold my body upright trying unsuccessfully not to tremble.  Slowly shaking my head in her direction, I have no desire to know what secret she has.

Without another word she shifts away, a violent torrent of wind picks up blowing my hair in my face. Thunder splits through the mind
-
numbing woods as lightning flashes and dances around me, b
r
ight
en
ing up the unworldly pearl onyx sky.  I smell the hint of
rain slowly
descending upon me. But the undeniable scent isn
’
t quite
right;
it
’
s harsher, tainted somehow with a heavy scent of a coppery substance.

Thick droplets soon fall from the sky soaking me to the core and I quickly move closer to a nearby tree for shelter. The rain breaks open suddenly into a ravishing down pour.  Barely seeing my own
hand
which
is
right before
me. As I
’
m trying to see my hands, I catch a glimpse o
f something red covering them.
“
What the
…?
”