Page 109 of Pareidolia

It’s real.

And I want to know what it is. The local legend Rory’s dad used to spew about some creature with wings isn’t enough. I need to see it for myself.

“Okay, well…” I trail off, and when Noah keeps staring at me, I jerk my chin up toward the fire tower. “I need to settle in and get some sleep.”

He stares for a moment before nodding. Once, twice, three times, like he’s having to talk himself into listening to my wishes, and then he steps back.

“Have a good night, Aspen.”

I was having a good night—a great night even—until he interrupted me. I nod back and step past him. “Thanks, you too.”

As I make my way back up the stairs, I have to remind myself that killing a ranger and wiping out an entire bloodline is probably not the way to make sure I don’t get caught killing.

I came here to find some peace and to settle down for a while to write… not to get arrested while I chase down legends that I’m really starting to think are real after all.

The steps feel so much longer when I start back up them, but at least I have peace of mind when I see Noah Daniels turn without checking the ground where the body had been… and my second reassurance that I’m going to get away with murder in the same location comes when I hear a crack of thunder, followed by the soft fall of rain.

The only problem I might run into is a leaking roof, but I’ll take it if it means the blood on the leaves will wash away.

I make it back up just as the rain really starts coming down, and I’m thankful that everything still seems dry as I go to my bag. I open up one of the notebooks and press the bloody leaf between the blank pages. I leave the bone in my pocket beside the knife and blow out a breath.

That was too close.

There were a few moments there where I was pretty sure Noah recognized me. I’m probably not going to be able to get away with him not realizing who I am forever, but I didn’t want to deal with it tonight.

And there really is something in the forest.

My hand brushes my chest again as I grab my bag and make my way across the cabin. There’s a small desk in the corner where the people who used to work here probably sat, and it only takes a few minutes to clear it off. I need to organize and probably get a few solar batteries set up, but this place honestly isn’t in bad shape.

Other than the broken banister.

But…

Well…

I’ll fix that.

I pull out my laptop, glad I have a portable charger with me for tonight. Now that I’m safe, I realize I’m not going to sleep. I feel more inspired than I have in months.

Something in the forest.

A creature with wings.

I want to write it into existence. Maybe if I put it on page, it’ll manifest?

I pull a candle from my bag and walk to one of the dozen windows, lighting it and glancing into the trees one more time before I turn and sit to write.

I’m not sure how long I’m caught up in the feeling of creating. It’s been weeks since I’ve been able to concentrate on a new book, but with the vision of the man dying, the fear on his face…

The words are flowing. It feels so good that I don’t realize as the candle starts to burn low, and I don’t think when the rain comes down harder. The only proof I have that time passes are the pages appearing in my document and the battery on my laptop slowly going down.

Thunder rumbles, and there’s a bang. It’s loud enough that it jerks my attention to the door—lightning flashes across the sky, illuminating the trees just as the power on my laptop goes out, casting me into darkness.

The lightning flashes again, revealing a glimpse of color.

A streak of white.

A figure tall enough that it doesn’t fit in the doorway.