My eyes adjust to the light as I realise I’m laying back in my bedroom in the attic, my heart pounding in my chest. I look down at my wrist noticing blood seeping though a thick bandage. Rubbing my eyes, I get up and walk downstairs. As I reach the bottom of the staircase I spot Chester sitting on the balcony. “Oh you’re awake…I was starting to get worried” he says with a smile. “What happened…” I mumble, still confused about the strange events that happened just moments before. “You cut yourself with the blade then passed out, must’ve been the shock or something, but Arms has already been around and he says you should heal up fine” I look back down at my wrist, happy that the doctor says I’ll heal up fine, but something doesn’t sit right with me about that strange dream. I can feel the warmth of the late afternoon sun on my face as I gaze past the small town and towards the forest. Why did that dream feel so real? I look back down at my wrist remembering when I cut it that night. A bird catches my attention as it flies towards the treeline and something in my mind clicks. “Oakhurst…” I whisper to myself. Everything makes sense now, It’s a sign. Hues of oranges and fuchsias flood the sky like a storm as I throw some stuff into a bag. Overhead the flutter of bats moving into the night casts shadows across the forest marking a path that draws me to follow. *** The sound of a distant storm rumbles as the subtle town lights slowly fade behind me. I tread though mud and the old worn paths leading to oakhurst. Every step I take is a reminder of that night, I can almost smell the stench of smoke as rain starts to seep into my coat. The rain falls heavily, soaking the ancient grounds. I can barely see through the hail but it doesn’t stop me. The sun appears over the horizon as I reach the town, its only rubble now. I spot the remains of the hostel and search through the rubble. I find an old lantern and some plates. Everything looks so different now. I walk around to the outskirts of town barely recognising my childhood home. I spot something shining under the sunlight and walk over to pick it up, it’s my mother bracelet, old and worn yet still shining a bright sliver. I slip it on, it's cold but fits nicely. A hefty rock stands on the damp ground. The words I engraved feel heavy but right. ”In remembrance of all lost, including my Mother, Father and Sister, may you rest in peace” I decided to go and have a look around at some of the small viewing structures surrounding the town. The terrain is harsh; each step is agonising but I’m too far into the trek to turn around. I finally reach the top of the massive climb and spot the old, ruined, tower. The morning air is fresh, cold yet comforting. Legs aching, I sit down on the remains of what was a wall many years ago and I take a bite out of a soft piece of bread. ***
Please read part 1 & 2 before reading part 3
