Chapter One
DOES THE FOREST HAVE EYES?
CARSON
I set my suitcase down once I’m inside the rental cabin. It’s cozy and quaint, just as I expected. A bit dated, but the fresh paint brings some new life to the older aesthetic.
These cabins are much more inspiring than a boring old hotel room. Booking at Green Glen Cabins was a no-brainer when I was planning my trip to Harmony Glen. Right across from the lush conservation area? Couldn’t be better. I won’t have to lug my art supplies across town.
I think the most exciting thing so far has been meeting the tree-man who owns the cabins. The big city I come from is full of many different kinds of monsters, but no tree-men.
There’s no doubt in my mind that Harmony Glen is going to have lots of new things to show me—and that’s why I’m here.
My inspiration has been running dry. The grays of thecity don’t flood my mind with ideas, and the sky is blocked by the skyscrapers that surround me.
Here, nature and life flow freely. Everything feels brighter and more colorful. Even the air seems to be easier to breathe.
I can tellthisis the place I will find my muse. Hell, maybe Harmony Glen itself is my muse. I can’t wait to check out the conservation area. There’s no doubt it’ll be bursting with artistic energy.
Before I do that, I need to finish unpacking the finished pieces I brought. The town has a beautiful center with a fountain, and that’s where I’ll host my art show.
Heading back out to my car, I take a deep breath of the fresh air. It really does beat the city, plus it’s free of any looming expectations.
I push the creeping thoughts out of my mind, open the trunk and grab as many canvases as I can—without damaging them, of course. These are my babies, my livelihood.
At least theywillbe my livelihood. Iwillmake it as an artist. Never again will someone tell me my art lacks meaning or emotion.
After a few trips, I’ve unloaded all my artwork into my cabin, strewn across every available surface carefully. Pricing can come later. I’m antsy to explore the woods.
Taking my sketchbook and pencil, I lock the cabin behind me. The walk to the woods isn’t long, and soon enough I’m on the main trail of the conservation area.
The tall trees hide some of the sunlight, casting shadows wherever the sun doesn’t shine through. It’s beautiful, the way nature has formed itself.
I venture off the path, venturing through the terrain as I search forthe spot. Somewhere I can sit down, enjoy an inspiring view, and let the art flow onto the page.
Later, I’ll paint proper illustrations onto my empty canvases. As much as I’d love to paint on-site, in the moment, I have too many supplies to lug through the trails and woods.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and I slow my movements. Looking around, I don’t see anything besides trees, shrubs, and maybe a squirrel.
“Hello?” I call out, doing another scan, just slower.
Everything is completely still.
There’s no response, but I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not. It would be concerning if someone were watching me, and if they are, I’d like to knowwhy. No one from home knew where I was going, but it feels like there are eyes on me.
Trying to shake the feeling, I walk deeper into the woods, enjoying the serenity and silence of nature. Somewhere ahead of me, I hear a twig snap.
My steps falter once more. “Anyone out there?”
Still no answer.
Likely another squirrel. Nature makes lots of sounds, and itisa conservation area. It’s probably just my nerves.
I push forward, stepping over rocks, branches, and shrubbery until I reach a small stream. The delicate sound of water trickling is calming, and I sit down next to it.
In my open sketchbook, my pencil moves across the page as if on its own. An abstract version of the scene in front of me. Tall trees surrounding a swirly stream, sunlight illuminating the area.
While it’s not exact, this is the style I’ve been enjoying sketching and painting recently. I find realism difficult when I’m not deeply invested in the topic.
