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CHAPTER ONE
The rushing water spilled over the rocky cliff above, crashing over and over to the bottom of the riverbed. Mist clouded the air, slowly turning to ice pellets that melted as they landed on my cheek, a sign that winter was near. The loud yet soothing roar of the waterfall filled the calm, dense forest that surrounded me, filling me with tranquility and peace, like the gentle pounding of a beating heart, drowning out all the thoughts that cluttered my mind. When I closed my eyes, it felt like home.
The giant fallen tree trunk beneath me, covered in dark green moss, gave a soft cushion against my back as I lay there looking up through the leafy canopy above. Brilliant colours of fall took hold of the leaves on the trees above me; red, orange and yellow framed the opening, and through it bits of clouds floated by. The sky was grey, the weatherman had called for rain, yet I felt nothing, apart from the mist of the river below enveloping me.
Then, tears began to trickle down the sides of my face, landing in my hair. I felt—empty inside.
“Time to go, my darling.” A voice broke the silence that filled my head.
I sat up swiftly, looking around to find that nobody was there. I guess I should have mentioned that I see ghosts. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it’s a bit of a shock at first. I don’t remember why it started, only when it started.
I believe I was twelve years old.
“Matt?” I whispered. He had known how to make me smile. I missed him desperately. I would give anything to see him again.
Who was I kidding? Of course he wasn’t here, because he was dead. He was dead and it was my fault. Tears began to flood my eyes again, as I thought about that horrible night. That horrible night that had changed my life forever.
“You have got to stop blaming yourself,” he replied.
“Matt?” My head spun around, and this time, I saw him. My eyes welled and my heart began to pound against my ribs. He was sitting a few feet away from me, looking as handsome as I remembered. I never understood what kept the dead around, but I was thankful it happened. “What—I—I don’t understand. How are you here?”
He smiled and avoided the question. “This is not how I wanted you to live out the rest of your life, Lauren.” He flickered as he swiftly moved around me.
“I don’t know what else to do.” My head turned as I tried to follow him. I started to cry, wishing I could hold him. “Nothing is the same anymore.”
“Of course it’s not, sweetheart. You need to start over. Make a new life, with new memories.” His head tilted slightly.
“I can’t. I miss you so much.” I said and covered my face as I cried, my body shaking.
Matt continued, “I know, darling.” He stood tall, like a shadow cast down over me. Then he jumped off the log and he landed perfectly on the forest floor below. “I can’t move on, if you don’t stop thinking about me.”
“Even in death I’m ruining your life.” I shook my head ashamed.
“You never ruined my life, Lauren.” He said with a smirk.
“I’m going crazy, aren’t I?” I scoffed.
“No,” he said his smile widening. Then as he looked up at me, his eyes sparkled in the scattered light.
“Then how is it that we are talking right now?” I asked through trembling lips.
“I never thought it was possible, but when you heard me, I realized it was.” He smiled. “I am thankful that you can see and hear me.”
“Me too.” I replied. “I’m sorry, Matt.” I sobbed into my hands.
“I know, darling,” he said and held out his hand for me to take it.
“It should have been me. It was my fault.” I shook my head, burying my face in my hands again as the terrible memories of that night seeped their way in.
“You need to stop thinking like that.” He gave me a sympathetic smile. “Everything happens for a reason,” he said, moving closer. I glanced down at the ground below. The drop was far.
“I wish that stupid phrase never existed,” I groaned. “I’m tired of hearing it. You didn’t need to die for any mystical reason.” I said then looked away from his stare.
“Who knows why things happen, Lauren? You can’t let it define your life. You must accept what is, and carry on.” He said then waited for me to jump down.
“You are a good person, Matt. You didn’t deserve to die.” I stood. “I—I—” My voice trailed off. Matt’s head slowly turned and as he disappeared, another voice echoed in the forest.
“You can’t be here,” I heard someone say.
My head jerked in the direction he was coming from. A man slowly approached me; dressed head to toe in black, staring up at me. His foot on a large rock and his arms folded. I focused on him warily.
“Why not? You’re here,” I retorted, wiping the tears from my cheek.
“I live here.” He scoffed.
“Here . . . in the forest?” I said, sarcastically.
“What? No. I’m here because my family owns this land,” he replied, pulling out a silver flask from his pocket. He studied me for a long moment. “You, on the other hand, are trespassing,” he added. I observed him as he stood there drinking from his shiny silver flask. He screwed the lid and looked up at me again. This guy had some deep rooted problems, worse than any I had ever dealt with.
“I used to come here all the time when I was a kid. I don’t remember it being owned by any one person in particular,” I replied, climbing my way down.
“Well, now you know.” He screwed the lid off again, took a long haul, and then screwed the lid back on. “So, you should go.” He clicked his tongue and shooed me away. I brushed the dirt form my pants and hands and crossed my arms, glaring at him.
“Oh, I’m sorry Sheriff of Nottingham, is there some sort of toll that I need to pay?” I said, walked towards him.
“Funny.” He scowled wagging his index finger at her.
“I’m here all week?” I replied walking away from him. He sighed stuffing the flask in the inner pocket of his jacket. “So, who pray tell, owns this land,” I asked.
“I believe I told you that.”
“No, all you said was that your family owns this land, who exactly is your family.” I said backing up from him.
“The Foster’s.”
“Oh . . . doesn’t ring a bell.” I replied. “You lived here long?”
“My entire life,” he said with a nod.
“Weird . . . I grew up here and I don’t
recall a Foster family name.” I replied.
“Well my mother is Abigail Porter.”
“Oh.”
“Exactly,” he said with a roll of his eyes, and then started walking away.
