Sera
The engine cuts off and I lean into my leather seat, basking in the silence of a dark, vacant parking lot. A single streetlight flickers in the distance, illuminating clusters of weeds that steadily overtake cracked asphalt. Long shadows crawl out from nearby trees.
“Fuck him,” I curse as frustration crashes over me for the thousandth time today. “I’m not as complacent as he thinks.”
Flicking my gaze to the rearview mirror, I double-check to make sure I wasn’t followed. Wouldn’t surprise me if Enzo—my asshole of a boss—had me tailed.
If he did, there’s no sign of it. That’s one reason I drove all the way out here and not to my house. The other is that I need a place to clear my head. Calm down before panic sinks in its deadly claws.
Dropping my hands to my lap, I carefully search through the folds of my coat. When my fingertips graze the cool metal of my piece, some of the tension eases away. I’ll protect myself if it comes down to it. But that’s not what worries me. It’s how to get out of this mess while doing the job I signed up for.
Soft white light from a full moon bathes the old schoolyard in a mysterious glow, reflecting off broken, empty windows. A deserted two-story building presides over desolate swings and a motionless merry-go-round, frozen in time behind a warped chain-link fence.
Just beyond the perimeter, the ‘cursed’ woods still stand tall. Students were never allowed to go back there, but it hardly stopped us from sharing whispered confessions and the lore that evolved year to year, religiously passed down to eager ears.
This place used to be full of good memories. When I didn’t have to worry about bills or adult politics or being hunted by hitmen. Looking back, I prefer those times to knowing what real evil is—to finding out my new law firm is a front for the mafia, and being forced to keep my mouth shut.
Wrenching open the car door, I step into the silent night and take a deep breath. The air is thick with moisture, rich earth tones mingling with the budding growth of spring. The scent fills me with the same thoughts I had when I was little, that the myths might be real, and fabled creatures really did lurk deep within the woods.
That shouldn’t comfort me. But it does. The idea that a creature could possess enough power and intelligence to rival humanity. Something to restore balance to this forsaken world.
I pop open the first button of my blouse and exhale with a hint of relief. My nipples stiffen in the cold, skin pebbling in the fresh air. This is the quiet I needed, the solitude to get my head straight. I feel like I’m fraying at the edges, sewn of uneven seams that need to be ripped apart and stitched back together.
Tossing my heels into the backseat, I pull on my pair of emergency boots and shut the door. The security lock clicks twice, and a ghostly breeze rushes through the leaves. A twig snaps.
I spin and stare into the emptiness, not daring to blink. But all I see are deep shadows and knotted tree limbs stretching into the moonlight. No one’s there.
Fuck’s sake, I need to get my shit together.
Gradually, I make my way toward the woods, drawn by either a sense of old familiarity or innate curiosity—perhaps both. A need to escape, even for a few minutes. A restless ache pulls at my psyche, as natural and untamed as the vines overtaking the abandoned playground.
It’s easier to hop over the fence than to climb under, like I did as a kid. I smile at the memory of how many clothes I snagged rushing through the hole before we got caught. Tonight I couldn’t care less if my clothes rip, even though I may end up looking like I ran into an actual monster.
The bushes have grown large and wild, several wayward branches snapping as I approach the center of the small thicket. I mutter curses as they catch on my sleeves and tear across my skin, gnarled fingers trying to draw me closer. My business skirt restricts my steps, but it’s for the better as the shadows grow thicker and the path narrows.
Our large maple tree stands tall and proud, the branches stretching over smaller birch and hawthorns. Being here settles my apprehension, twists around my heart like a strong rope that can bind me in one piece.
Forever and a half ago I stood in the same spot, trying to figure out the answer to ’what do you want to be when you grow up’. Lawyer was the easy answer, but the tough path. It’s a good reminder. I’ve never given up because something was hard, or because I faced a struggle. Quite the opposite. I excel when the odds are stacked against me. I thrive in pain.
Upholding the law is an easy goal—but again, a tough path. One way or another I’ll get myself out of this and pay that bastard back for it. I’ll find a way, because I have to.
“I wonder if it’s still here,” I murmur, smoothing my hand over the rough bark. A little higher maybe, over to the right…
There.
That same old scar cut into the wood. It’s where my parents carved their names when they were seniors. A few years later, I was born.
Now I’m the only one left.
As I trace the gentle curve, my fingertips feel another line etched into the familiar design. Did someone else carve over it?
“Shit!” Pain stabs through my finger and I quickly retract my hand—damn splinter. Just what I needed.
The metallic taste of blood coats my tongue and I try to wedge the wood out with my teeth, but it’s no good. I need better light and a pair of tweezers. Gritting out a huff, I turn my back on the stupid tree. About time I head home, anyway.
Just as I begin to retrace my steps, a chuckle drifts through the forest. here…
