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CLARISSA
The darkness follows me. I run down the acrid, damp tunnel, my vision failing, the walls collapsing in on me. A pinprick of light is my only guide. I turn around. The crowd has grown, three dark figures now quickly forging a path straight to me, the distance between us collapsing with rapid force.
“Are they who I think they are?” my dream self gasps.
At a fork, I go with the right tunnel. I find myself trapped within a surreal labyrinth, its walls pulsating with an eerie luminescence that casts grotesque shadows. My heart pounds like a drum, the rhythm of my fear echoing in the cramped space. Ahead, the path forks into more twisted corridors, each one a portal to an unknown nightmare.
As I sprint forward, the tunnel seems to elongate and contract with a bizarre rhythm, like a living entity toying with me. The ground beneath my feet shifts, undulating like a liquid, making every step a dance of uncertainty. Glancing over my shoulder, I glimpse fleeting glimpses of a nebulous, shape-shifting entity that is composed of multiple shadows. It morphs between forms, a grotesque amalgamation of my deepest fears.
The tunnel's walls begin to close in, the space around me shrinking as if the very tunnel itself hungers for my capture. I can almost taste the acrid tang of desperation, an otherworldly taste that lingers on my tongue.
The pursuit grows more frenzied, the numerous entities drawing nearer with each impossible step. My mind races, grappling with the surreal nightmare that envelops me, and I can't help but wonder if I'll ever escape this twisted, tormenting chase. The wetness of the tunnel disintegrates into whiteness, and the closing in of the walls stops, cramming me in.
They come with the shadows through the threshold. The distance from the door elongates until I can barely make out their faces. They are white and blank with black eyes. They crowd around me in a circle, stopping a few feet from my suspended body. From their dead faces, they emit a low wailing. It's metallic and hollow.
My eyes open. I sit up with a force that shakes the bed. I breathe erratically, and I have trouble filling up my lungs.
That one was much too vivid. I can still see the dark forms in my mind’s eye with all the clarity of looking through a mirror.I shift under the covers, but I can’t get comfortable after that. So I get up out of bed and get a drink of water from the faucet.
“I need to run,” I decide for myself. Outside the window, the first light of day illuminates the sky to a dull blue. Through the trees, patches of the changing sky tower from above.
I lace up my sneakers and hit the pavement, my breath syncing with the rhythm of my footsteps. As I jog through Aura Creek past the few early-morning denizens that make up this wonderful ocean town, the crisp air fills my lungs, invigorating my senses.
I pass by charming cottages with flower-filled gardens, and my eyes meet those of a local shopkeeper arranging vibrant produce outside her quaint store. She wipes away some stray strands of gray hair from out of her eyes. A friendly nod passes between us, and I continue my run, the street hard beneath my feet.
What would Marshal Todd say about me being so friendly with these people? I'm sure he wouldn't approve. Something about blowing my cover, endangering myself by being too involved. Sometimes I think being all cooped up at the house seems worse than letting the Holy Rollers carry out my demise, though.
Soon, the sounds of laughter and chatter draw me closer to the town square. A group of children play tag. I immediately think of the other day on the boat with Emile, rescuing those children. We were both assured of our attraction with that first kiss. I wanted to melt into him forever.
I slow down to catch my breath and offer a wave to an elderly man sitting on a bench, his eyes crinkling with a warm smile. A pair of artists are busy capturing the essence of the town on canvas, their brushes dancing with vibrant colors.
The path takes me uphill, and as I crest a rise, I'm rewarded with a breathtaking view of the surrounding mountains. A group of hikers pause to take photos, their laughter carrying on the breeze.
“It’s beautiful up here,” I announce to the one closest to me.
“Oh, it is,” the hiker replies. “We come up once a month, and I still take photos every time. It changes from season to season, but I can’t decide which view is the best.”
“Hmm,” I murmur. “I’m new in town. I’ll have to come back and see for myself.”
“Oh, you should. If nothing else, at least in the fall. The colors are breathtaking.”
I nod as if to say thank you for the tip, then stop to take a break beneath a giant oak tree. I wonder if I’ll be here in a month. I hope so, but it’s hard to say for certain. That thought makes me think of Emile again. I still feel bad and sinister for lying to him, but in the end, it’s all about my safety.
My safety.
It sounds so selfish, but it’s the truth. How would I feel if it were Emile who was lying? When Marcel mentioned Lauren, I felt an immediate pit in my stomach.
It felt like Marcel knew he needed to warn me that Emile is hard to win over and has difficulty trusting, which can’t possibly work well here. I mean, I’m lying about my damn identity. It seems obvious this isn’t something he’s going to take lightly if he finds out. And what could our future look like if he doesn't?
I don’t want to lose him because he feels I deceived him. It’s better that I take a step back. I should reevaluate what I want from this before I do anything else.
Is it worth it?
Descending back into the heart of the town, I continue to pass friendly strangers. I’m too lost in my thoughts to pay much attention, though I return the occasional wave or smile.
All my thoughts keep coming back to the same thing, though. I will tell Emile that we should just remain friends. Sad as I am to miss this chance, I don’t want to ruin everything. It makes my heart ache, though, because I can’t help thinking that if he could have just met Shauna instead of Clarissa, everything would have been different.
“If ifs and buts were candy and nuts,” I mutter as I unlock my front door. “It is what it is. And what it is, is a mistake. You’re better off with a friend as a neighbor than a nasty ex. It’s not too late to back out. Make something up and tell him you aren’t ready to date. It’s the best thing to do.”
