Getting back in the saddle after a monumental setback is no easy task for anybody, especially for someone like Andrew with his inability and insecurities combined. Following it through, however, is what gets him back into a rhythm—nothing high or low, just steadily consistent.
So here he is, back in film class, consulting with his teacher about his final project while his personal aide, Edmund, sits quietly in the back, supporting him as always; unsurprisingly, there isn’t much that he has to do compared to before.
“I must say,” begins Ms. Starling after inspecting her student’s rough edit, “I can somewhat see where you’re going with your visuals. I especially love your sound design. What did you use for that, if you don’t mind me asking?” She raises both her eyebrows, genuinely curious.
Andrew smirks before answering, “I had to dust off my old sound mixer.”
“Nice.” She nods favourably. “I didn’t know you could mix sound.”
“Well…” the young man shrugs, sighing, “… it could very well be my backup option in case, well…” he hesitates, “… film doesn’t work out for me.”
This statement has the lady folding her arms now, her eyes narrowing with concern. “Now, why would you say that?”
“I…” he shrugs uncomfortably, “… I want to be certain whether or not someone like me can ever make it into the film industry.” He faces Starling directly again. “I need you to tell me honestly, without any kid gloves, if there really is a chance for me.”
This question stuns her as she glances away nervously, almost dead silent while tightening her lips. She truly wants what is best for her students, especially this boy, and knows better than to sugarcoat anything. “What’s going on?” she asks.
Andrew sighs. “Let’s just say… that my eye surgery didn’t turn out so well.”
“Oh…” Starling realizes right away. “Oh, Andrew… I am so sorry.”
When she reaches out to him, he pulls away instinctively. “So, yeah…” he continues briskly, “… it looks like I’ll be blind for… God-knows how long.” Once he says this, his head hangs heavily again—the poor kid looks like he could break down again.
“Hey, listen—”
“What else can I do, Miss?” he jabs.
“No, but seriously…” she bites back her smile, “… with your blindness, you will certainly face more challenges than others.”
“Which is putting it lightly,” Andrew adds a little smugly.
“But that’s not a reason for you to give up,” his teacher concludes. “Nothing is too impossible to overcome.”
With a doubtful frown, he decides then to challenge her. “How do you know? You’ve not been in my situation. You don’t know what it’s like…” his voice begins to quiver, “… to l-lose… the only thing that ever gave you your worth… your talent.”
“Andrew, no!” Marching from her desk, Starling grabs Andrew by his shoulders. “You are more than that!” she declares. “Don’t let this be the end for you! You are a man of extraordinary talent! I’ve seen it for myself!” She points again to the video on his laptop. “Just look at what you’ve managed to put together! I don’t know many people who can do that while blindfolded! I certainly couldn’t achieve that!”
“Well, I did have some help…”
She scoffs at the interjection. “So does every great director. Your point?”
Andrew opens his mouth before shutting it—he has none.
“Exactly.”
“But is it enough?” he questions with finality. “Am I enough?”
“Yes, you are!” shouts Edmund out of the blue.
Both whip their heads to the man, who is still sitting away from them.
“Oh, sorry…” he stands up sheepishly, now embarrassed with himself, “… I’ll, uh… step outside if that’s what you want. I wasn’t trying to butt in—”
Andrew stops him with a wave. “No, no, you’re good.”
“You sure?” Edmund bounces his gaze between him and the teacher.
“It’s fine, Edmund,” clarifies Ms. Starling before she turns back to her student. “He’s right, after all. You have more support than you realize, Andrew.”
The young man takes all this in while glancing towards the window.
“You are more than enough. Don’t let anything convince you otherwise.”
Andrew, leading again with his cane, exits the arts facility with his head held higher than it was when he had entered, as if a mighty load had been lifted from his shoulders… most of it at least.
“So… how are you feeling now?” questions his PA, who follows beside with his hands behind his back. “If you don’t mind me asking,” he adds for safety.
“A little lighter, I suppose…” he answers through his breath.
In truth, Andrew wants to keep this conversation short, not because he doesn’t want to talk to Edmund—who is probably his only friend right now—but because he doesn’t feel like taking it into any more mushy territory… enough of that nonsense.
“Well, I’m glad to hear—”
“Andrew!”
A tender voice laced with urgency, paired with a subduing sweet fragrance, stops the blind man right in his tracks, demanding his full attention. With visible jitteriness, he first turns an ear, then his whole body to the marching footsteps until they ease a few metres in front of him. It’s not even a guess who this is… “A-Alice! Uh… what’s up?”
“Oh, uh… nothing much.” She hesitates, mainly due to their third party presence. “It’s just… I’ve been meaning to reach out to you again since, well… you know.”
“Yeah…?”
“I-It’s, um…”
Suddenly, it’s as if their voices are swallowed up once more, just like that night… but somehow worse— where do they even begin?
Edmund, on the other hand, takes no time at all to read the room. As the PA turns to excuse himself, he gives Andrew a quick pat on the shoulder. “See ya, man.”
His client in kind returns the gesture. “Right… see ya.”
And just like that, Andrew is left alone with Alice again.
“So, uh…” Alice stammers while fidgeting audibly, “… how have you been?”
He knows it’s meant to be a simple question, but it’s the way she had stressed the ‘you’… it carries the same direct pressure as a pointing finger. He doesn’t answer—he can’t. Instead, he deflects his gaze skyward, huffing through his nostrils.
“Hey, ain’t that the blind guy?”
To the young man’s annoyance, he is yet again reminded of the public scrutiny that surrounds him with its tightening orbit.
“What’s he doing with Edge’s girl? He a rebound?”
“Are they a thing now? So soon after she lost her boyfriend?”
“Hey…” Alice steps forward, hushed now, “… are you okay?”
Andrew steps back, waving his hand between them. “I’m…” he swivels his head, uncertain, then bows with a shrug, “… I’m as… fine as can be. You?”
“Doing better,” she supposes while folding her arms with a slight frown. Noting her friend’s discomfort, she decides to respect his boundary before cutting right to the chase. “I’ve been trying to call you, but you haven’t been answering… so I got worried.”
Hearing the controlled hurt in her voice, Andrew’s blind gaze, which Alice can see even through his shades, aligns with her eyes almost perfectly. “I’m really sorry…” he utters with a cast of shame. “I’ve been… fuck it, I don’t know.”
“Going through a lot, huh?” the girl suggests, her dark lipstick almost vanishing into a thin line as she smirks warmly.
Andrew nods, mirroring her without meaning to.
“Me too,” she then confirms.
“Just know, it’s not like I was trying to avoid you,” he makes haste to assure her, overcome now with more guilt. “I was just trying to lay low and… avoid… everyone.” He afterwards plants his cane on the ground like a staff, visibly embarrassed as soon as those words left his mouth—they didn’t make his case any better, he feels.
But Alice, who remains unfazed, just asks him out of the blue, “Got somewhere to be?” Her tone is calm, straightforward, but with a small lace of pleading eagerness.
“I…” again, this lone boy hesitates— it’s just a request, calm the fuck down. He checks around one last time before settling with, “I was just thinking of going near the lighthouse with my camera and tripod.” Why are you so specific??
“Cool…” Alice, with renewed confidence, takes another step towards her blind friend, “… so, would it be a bother if I asked to tag along?”
Andrew, who would normally overthink things, does his absolute best not to read between the lines and simply take her invitation at face value. Deep down, he can tell that there is an ulterior motive, and it’s not as if she is treating him like he is oblivious to this fact as well. Ultimately, he reckons that whatever is, will be…
“Not at all,” he answers finally. “But aren’t you nervous that…”
Alice leans in, her eyebrows raised. “What?” she urges.
Catching himself, Andrew promptly dismisses the thought. “Eh… it’s nothing.”
The girl stares at him, then backs off with another smirk. “If you say so…”
Without any hesitation, the dark-haired goth takes his tripod case to sling on her own shoulder, then hooks her arm around her fellow blind film student as she leads him out of campus, caring none at all about the judging stares of their peers.
Eventually, their long and leisurely stroll led these two peculiar friends to the Port Rhapsody harbour. Here, on the pier, Andrew can taste the salt being sprayed from the ocean, its caps of foam splashing upwards then down every time. Around this time, his body can no longer feel the bare, energizing warmth of the sun as there are clouds gathering in thick herds, their shadowing, desaturating presence drifting inland like they naturally do, and over in the distance where no feet can reach… a reticent rumble.
Time is but a loan now.
Getting to work, Andrew positions his camera behind an old bench facing the water, and with Alice’s help, sets it up on his tripod; she even assists him in framing the shot so that the bench is symmetrically centralized.
“How is the focus?” inquires the blind director.
“Sharp,” his friend confirms.
“You sure?”
“Yes, director. You can trust me.”
“Alright, cool.”
Both step back for further observation, Andrew using his other four senses to scan this scene that he so wishes to film.
“So…” begins Alice pensively, “… are you going for a dreary Wes Anderson shot?”
“I’ve… only seen one of his films… but yes.”
“Which one?”
Andrew gives her a wince as he answers, “Budapest Hotel.”
She grins to this. “Good choice… so, what now?”
“What now? Let’s see…” With one arm folded and the other fingering his bottom lip, he brainstorms in silence until a lightbulb goes off. “Ooh, I know!” With a snap of his fingers, he hurries to increase the frame rate. “Let’s do it in slow-mo.”
“Do you want me to sit on the bench?”
The girl’s request takes him aback. “I was originally—actually, sure! Go on.”
Following Andrew’s motion, she goes to sit on the bench with her back to him. “Which side?” she then asks with concerned eagerness. “I’m on the left.”
“Either is fine…” thinking harder, he squints while sticking out his tongue, “… but I think I’d prefer you on the right.”
“Okay.” Shuffling as instructed, she stops just before the armrest. “This good?”
Next, this unseeing individual does something that initially befuddles her. With his hands stretched out in front of him, Andrew claps once… twice… then thrice between measured intervals—inside a bathroom, these claps would ring like gunshots. Pausing afterwards, he gradually beams at Alice. “You’re good.”
Only then does she get it… echolocation.
“That… is pretty fucking amazing, Andrew.”
Andrew hopes to God that he isn’t blushing as he ducks back behind his tripod to begin filming— remember… face value. “Just, um… just look ahead and feel whatever it is that you’re feeling until I say cut, alright?”
Facing back ahead, she nods. “So… nothing specific?”
“None whatsoever,” he affirms. “Just sit there as if no one else is around. All you have are your thoughts, your feelings. They can be loud or quiet.” Pressing record, he finally yells, “Action!”
It takes around five minutes to film this scene, just a long stationary shot of a lone woman facing the storm on a park bench, her face hidden and profile strategically off-centre in obedience to the rule of thirds —the feeling he wants to evoke is that of a missing piece, as if something should be occupying the space right next to her.
As well as this, there is another moment that he hopes to capture… the climax. For the sake of art, one would sometimes have to adopt sadism; as of right now, he needs to be that creature… that parasitic manipulator.
Very faintly… he can hear Alice’s breaths through the wind. They sound heavy and… shuddered. Is she crying? Should he stop this? He can’t tell.
Maybe, just maybe… he could feign ignorance, make that his excuse to keep rolling. After all… it would be such a terrible waste to let this slip.
But at the same time… this is now turning into a perversion. What could possibly be on her mind? No… there is no ‘possibly’—it is surely definite what she’s thinking about. But even in this instance, it’s dangerous to assume—he is already crossing one line… but does she realize this too?
Despite all this, Andrew’s finger hovers over the red button, still waiting for that one moment. Any moment now… closer… faster…
… until at long last, a white crown crashes up against the pier, far from their reach but formidable enough to rattle the floorboards. Like the wings of a shapeless alien, its span mimics a hulking tsunami as it fills the entire frame… before it all smashes back down into a flat, glistening puddle.
“And… cut!” Alas, he has the shot.
With this now achieved, Andrew considers picking up some B-roll of his next subject, the lighthouse, which towers from the far left with its soon-to-be oscillating beam; it would be perfect.
But ultimately, his creative rush is overridden by his concern for Alice, who remains at her spot, deathly quiet. Switching off his borrowed camera, the young man makes his way over to occupy the vacancy beside her while also making sure to avoid crossing her invisible boundary—his intentions must stay pure.
Because of his observation, it can sometimes be easy to forget just how blind he is… and not just in the literal sense. For all he knows, his friend could simply be catching a cold. Regardless, he sits at her side in silence, hunched over while holding the handle of his cane between his knees, unsure yet whether to speak up or shut up—by default, he had already gone with the first option.
After some time, Alice wipes her face with her sleeve as she clears her throat. “Listen…” she speaks in a levelled voice, “… I don’t care what other people think of me.”
Admittedly, this is a weird place to start, but he lets her continue.
“I am not as concerned about people making assumptions about me… but if you’re worried about one of us getting the wrong idea—”
“No, no!” Andrew jumps to his feet defensively. “I-It’s not like that at all, I swear!”
“I know, I know, just… sit back down, will you?”
He does so with reluctance, hiding his embarrassment— how did we get here??
“I’m sure you have no ulterior motives, Andrew. But I just want to address this now so that it’s out of the way.” Taking a deep, intentional breath, she goes on. “I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea about us later down the line.”
“Okay,” he says right away.
“You sure?”
He nods intensely. “Of course.”
“Positive?”
“Yes, more positive than…” he trails off, sighing, “… I can’t think of a good joke.”
“Alright.” Alice veers from her friend with a stifled chuckle.
In truth, this is the last conversation he was ever expecting to have with this girl. Sure, she is attractive. Sure, she has this magnetic charm. Sure, they had some moments here and there. But it never really crossed his mind to see her in that way.
There is also the looming reminder of his missing best friend and what this girl means to him and vice versa—what kind of a friend would he be to intrude on that?
Are we getting too close already…
… at such a distressing time?
Maybe she’s right, he figures. Maybe he is just getting ahead of himself without ever realizing it. Would she still even want him around after all this is said and done?
This is too much…
Realizing soon enough how awkward the situation is becoming, Andrew attempts to break this tension with a modest joke. “There’d be too much maintenance for me anyway.” He laughs it off afterwards…
… but Alice doesn’t share his humorous sentiment. Rather, she ends up feeling guilty. “Andrew, no… I didn’t mean it like—”
“It’s fine, Alice… really.” He smiles while waving to assure her, “Self-deprecating humour is how I get through pain and misery, so…” he concludes with a shrug.
This statement opens up a new topic, which Alice is secretly grateful for. “I’m really sorry that your eye surgery didn’t work out.”
Now it’s Andrew’s turn to face ahead and avoid her gaze. “My dad says we’ll keep trying… so, yeah.” Bowing his head to the deck, he swallows hard. “I just don’t see how any doctors will ever want to perform surgery on me again after… what happened.”
The young woman looks at him sadly, genuinely wishing she could comfort him better, but considering the topic they had before…
“You know what else is funny?”
His sudden shift causes her to flinch.
“It’s how everyone seems to have forgotten about that obelisk. A few weeks ago, literally no one could shut up about it. Now that everyone’s moved on, it’s become one of the other few things I ever think about.” He laughs again, bitterly this time.
Alice whips her head in confusion. “Obelisk? Wait, you mean the UF—” Realization sets in as she rises from their bench. “The UFO…? The one in the forest??” Examining the scar on his forehead, the one that glowed, her brain starts putting everything together. “Y-You found it… didn’t you?”
Andrew clenches his jaw, cornered now thanks to his second Freudian slip. At this moment, he dares not to face her anymore—this was bound to happen eventually.
“Or…” the girl pauses, deep in thought for other possibilities, “… are you even Andrew at all and not some…?”
“As far as I’m concerned, Alice… I wish I was an alien.” This may be the weirdest answer he could have chosen. “I mean, that would actually make more sense than… whatever it is I’m actually dealing with.”
This response earns him a lopsided frown… that is, until another piece of the puzzle finds its slot. “Your powers… like what you did to the Gazer that night… it came from that thing too, didn’t it?”
“Yeah… and it’s also what did this to me.” Lifting his shades, he gives Alice a brief glimpse of his icy cataracts before hiding them again. “As I approached it, it unleashed this… blinding light!” He tries to imitate the sound as best as he can from memory. “I don’t know how else to describe it, but after that… I found that I couldn’t see anymore.”
“I… shit…” This is a lot for his friend to process—it has her shifting back and forth. “I don’t suppose you know what happened to that… obelisk afterwards.”
“According to Edge, it just vanished before he found me.”
“Oh, my God… Chord.” Her hand flies up to her mouth while her heart sinks into the pit of her stomach. “I don’t even—I just… I can’t…”
“There’s even more to unpack…” states Andrew calmly, “… unless—”
“No, you can’t stop now!” she affirms, spinning back to him. “Tell me everything!” She stands directly over him now, her hands pinning his shoulders.
Very subtly, he can feel this young woman trembling, her weeks of unrest on the verge of crumbling. With a deep inhale, he proceeds with a simple, “Alright.”
This time, he intends to leave no stone unturned…
“This is fuckin’ disorienting…”
“I know, Dylan, but once you get used to it, you’ll see the bigger picture.”
“Then you should be here trying this on, not me.”
“Believe me, I wish I could be there.”
“It also looks ridiculous,” interjects the head sheriff from his desk, his arms crossed and bushy eyebrows angling downwards. “How is this going to help, Carol?”
Three out of four people, two of them officials, are present in Henry’s office during this demonstration, the fourth, who is the third officer currently on sick leave, attending through a video call on their laptop.
As of right now, their guinea pig, Dylan, is trying on a VR headset which is connected to one of their high-quality bodycams. He is idling in the middle of the room, keeping his steps minimal while steering his head left and right, though his vision doesn’t quite follow where he is looking. “Okay, I can somewhat see it, but…”
“First, let me thank Benjamin Shore for coming in today to lend his equipment.”
Benjamin, who had returned despite their last misfortune, waves curtly.
“Secondly, I would like him to stick the camera onto the VR headset.”
“On it…” As instructed, the video production specialist approaches the taller officer to carefully remove the camera from the latter’s torso so he can stick it with a piece of blue tack onto the front of the headpiece where the wearer’s eyes align.
“Oh, daaaamn…” Now, Dylan gets it. This small tweak makes a huge difference in his manoeuvrability as he wanders freely with his line of sight properly united—they had turned these two separate instruments into a makeshift first-person camera.
“If we can use this,” Carol explains with excitement, “we should be able to see the Gazer without its gaze affecting us.”
“And you’re sure of this?” inquires Henry.
“It… has to work.”
“If I remember brightly, Deputy, your footage on the road didn’t capture that thing’s face… so how then can you be certain that this will work?”
Carol winces—it’s a valid point.
“I think this will work, sir.” Dylan sticks up for his partner while taking off the device and blinking to readjust his sight. “It’ll just take some getting used to, that’s all.”
“Look…” Henry stands up, flattening both palm on his table, “… as much as I appreciate the enthusiasm and creativity, this isn’t the biggest branch, and we’re already stretched thin as it is.”
“We’ll pick out the best from our department and do some practice runs first. Better yet, why don’t you see for yourself?” He hands the visor to his boss to try it on.
With some reluctance, he takes it while having to adjust the strap so he can fit it around his larger head. As soon as he has it on, his jaw hangs loosely as he digitally scans the room for himself; his only issue, which his peers already alluded to, is having its bright screen so close to his eyes for prolonged periods… but it’s nothing that can’t be overcome.
“Alright, I’ll admit it…” he hands the visor back to Dylan immediately, “… this does look promising. But who will lead this operation?”
“I will,” Dylan declares while broadening his shoulders a little.
Carol jolts at his proposal. “Dylan—”
“They’ll listen to me, sir.”
“Dylan, no!”
He turns directly to their small computer to see the woman’s alarmed expression. “Who else is going to do this?” he questions her bluntly. “You with your broken leg?”
“It’s dangerous—”
“I am well aware of the risks, Officer! And with all due respect, so are you!”
The room falls deathly silent. Benjamin shifts away, his lips sealed while pretending he isn’t here. Carol stares at her partner through the screen before slouching back in her own chair defeatedly, hating how right he is.
“Just… think through this carefully, okay?”
Dylan lowers his voice again, understanding her concern. “Will do.”
Carol’s downcast expression suggests that she isn’t entirely on board, but she says nothing more.
The head sheriff sees his chance to break the uncomfortable tension. “Alright, then!” He relaxes with an improved attitude. “Consider your pitch greenlit… now get to work.”
Dylan bows his head formally. “Thank you, sir.”
As soon as he leaves the room, Sheriff Henry Clarkson turns his attention back to Carol, who still bears her uneasy demeanour. “Anything to add?” he asks her.
There is a tense pause before she answers with a barefaced lie, “No, sir.”
The meeting ends when her boss reaches over to hang up the call.
He had given her exactly what she asked for…
… his true, unmitigated account of what happened in the Black Forest…
… and to her boyfriend.
Alice’s world, which had already been flipped sideways, is now and truly capsized with this overload of information. She retreats to the end of the dock’s railing in an attempt to decompress while bending over the churning sea… as if waiting to hurl.
It’s not true…
… Chord can’t be dead.
Everything else, she can accept… but not that.
“Alice…” Andrew carefully approaches her from behind, making sure to keep a respectable distance in case she maybe snaps or something, “… I truly am sorry.”
His gentle voice, wavering as it is, pulls her back from the edge. “Are you sure?” she asks while keeping her back to the young man.
He sighs while rubbing the back of his hair. “I already told you—”
“But you only heard what happened… right?” She holds her breath. “You didn’t see it, though… did you?” Her voice is now stern, colder than the brewing storm.
“No…” he exhales nervously.
“So…” at last, she veers around to face him, “… how can you be sure that he’s dead, Andrew?” Her denial has her grasping for straws… any loophole. “For all we know, he could still be alive.” Her face lights up wickedly. “Yeah… maybe he’s just lost.”
“Alice…”
“We also heard his voice on the road, didn’t we?”
“Alice!” Andrew’s sharp voice cuts through her deluded rambling.
Both stare at each other incredulously, the weather howling between them.
“I know he is still out there,” she asserts defiantly. “I can’t give up hope, I…” she inhales shakily, “… I won’t.”
Andrew bites back his frustration—there is no getting through to this woman.
So instead, he changes the subject. “I’ve… been trying to get my third eye to open, but I still can’t for some reason.” He shuffles awkwardly, wondering if he had just made the worst move in this conversation.
“What do you mean?” his friend urges.
“I mean…” he gargles for words, “… I already told you how my third eye can, you know… project and shit?”
She hums while nodding.
“I think… if I can find a way to do that properly… I might be able to use it to our advantage, might!” He makes sure to stress that modal verb to avoid getting either of their hopes up.
Absorbing this strange proposition, Alice closes her distance to him. “Do you think you’ll be able to use this ‘third eye’ to find wherever Chord is?”
Andrew hesitates—he can feel this desperate rush of hope vibrating from her.
Before he can give his answer…
CRASH!
… a close-range bolt of lightning, accompanied by an explosion of thunder, shocks them out of their skin. Next, a rattling noise stampedes towards them.
“Oh, shit!” Dreaded realization dawns on the boy—the cloudburst had arrived.
Alice, recovering from the jump scare, zips past Andrew.
“My camera!”
“I’m on it! Come on!”
Through the thickening clatter, the blind man can hear her uninstalling the camera from its tripod before bagging them exhaustively— she learns fast. He hurries over to zip both cases up.
“That everything?” he asks loudly.
Seizing his arm, she breathily shouts, “Yeah, let’s go!”
A chase ensues as they run for the nearest shelter just ahead, the rain catching up behind them until…
… almost…
… made it!
Having narrowly missed a wet landslide, they collapse on the table’s benches, heaving in and out until they can regain their breath soon after.
“Thanks… for not ripping my arm off.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“And for packing up my camera too… that was nice of you.”
Alice chuckles at this man, appreciating his sense of humour despite the circumstances. “I can see why you mean so much to him,” she blurts unexpectedly.
Andrew stiffens at the compliment. “Really? He said that?”
“Yeah, he did.” She lowers her gaze wistfully. “Made me a little envious, actually.”
His mouth opens in disbelief. “You? Jealous of me? No way.”
“Yeah way!”
“I just… wow!” He is truly stunned. “I never believed anyone could ever be jealous of me… let alone think of me that fondly.” His face softens as he replays all those distant memories with Edge. “I really took him for granted… didn’t I?”
“Hey…” Alice shuffles up next to Andrew and puts an arm around him, “… you don’t worry about—”
“Anyway…” he brightens his tone while clearing his throat, a deliberate effort to break the sombre mood, “… if I can just find a way to, uh… use this ‘quirk’ properly—”
“I have a suggestion.”
This draws the young man’s undivided attention. “Go on,” he prompts.
“If you want to get in that zone, I think one of my yoga classes could help.”
“Wait…” he stands up gracelessly, “… you want me to join yoga?”
Alice follows suit. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”
But he waves it off. “No way…”
“It’s not just for girls, you know?”
“I’ll stick out like a store thu— sore thumb!” he stammers while blushing. “I don’t know, Alice… I’m not even flexible.”
“You don’t have to be!”
“You sure?”
She frowns, clearly offended. “Of course I’m sure! You are talking to a veteran!”
Rubbing his neck now, Andrew ponders for a moment, drawing out the thunderous silence. Perhaps, this girl is on to something. Yoga does go beyond the physical after all… so what reason does he have to doubt her?
“You really think I can do this?” he decides.
The goth beams like a Christmas tree. “Not overnight… but eventually, yes!”
Holding his hips now, he manages a smile. “Okay, then… when can we start?”
Near the evening, Carol’s phone rings on her coffee table as she winds down on her sofa. Reacting fast, she picks it up to see that it’s Dylan.
“Hey, what’s going on?” she answers.
“Nothing much,” he says. “Just wanted to check on you.”
She twinkles at the gesture. “Thanks for having my back today.”
“Don’t mention it. It’s what partners do.” There is a slight pause before he continues. “You seemed rather anxious during that meeting however.”
Her face drops. “Oh, that? Yeah, well… don’t worry about it.”
“It’s okay, Carol.” His voice is uncommonly gentle. “I know you’re worried for my safety, but this plan will work.”
“If I wasn’t injured—”
“I know,” he simply says, which calms the woman down. “What you’re going through is a workaholic’s withdrawal. You can’t wait to be back in the field, can you?”
She snickers to this. “Come on, Dylan, I know we’ve worked together for years, but you can’t know me that well.”
“Maybe so, but in case this doesn’t work out, we’ll still have our ace in the hole… won’t we?”
There is another pause, this time from Carol as she leans back in her couch. “I don’t know…” she breathes out. “Do you seriously think he’d be up to such a task?”
“I don’t know…” the man replies flatly, “… but it’s worth a shot, don’t you think?”
Silence.
“Don’t you?”
Her opinion on this matter remains ambiguous… for now.
Elsewhere, on a fresh day like any other, a bereaved mother makes her way to the edge of the Black Forest with a bouquet of roses for her missing daughter. For eight years now, she had been visiting this place, yearning that each occasion would garner a different result… but she knows it’s in vain.
Sarah Wood knows that her daughter, Savannah, is long gone, never to be seen again, expect in her dreams and waking nightmares. This cursed forest had taken everything from her—what she wouldn’t give to burn it all down.
Retaining her composure, the old woman lays down her roses with tears trickling from her baggy eyes. “I miss you every day, baby…” she whispers inaudibly.
Just then, she hears a sound… a moan of some sorts echoing from those insidious trees—it sounds almost akin to… a voice?
She stares vacantly into the abyss, her arms crossed rather than wide apart in alarm. With only a slight tremor in her voice, she calls out, “Who’s there?”
At first, there is nothing…
… and then it happens again, the moaning.
It’s closer this time, but not only that…
… it’s higher in tone…
… feminine…
… young.
It sounds almost just like her.
But Sarah knows otherwise—this isn’t her first dance, after all.
The officials around Port Rhapsody did all they could to close off this forest, but clearly not enough, because here she stands in front of an unmarked entrance—she could walk right in if she wants to, and nothing would stop her.
The voice again beckons to her… it’s all too alluring now.
What if…?
What if it is my baby girl…?
They could almost reach out to each other.
“Baby…”
She had fought long and hard to resist becoming another victim…
… even though deep down…
… she wishes she had taken her daughter’s place instead.
‘Mom…’
“Yes, baby…” the lady murmurs weakly, as if she is now being hypnotized.
‘Mom…’
“Yes, baby, I’m here… I’m coming…”
Surrendering all sense to love, Sarah Wood begins her slow, trance-like walk into the forbidden forest, her plump figure disappearing into its shadowy enclosure…
… never to be seen again.
