Feb 7
Awake
And seeking reality
Chapter 4
I sit down to gather my thoughts about my most recent experience. Replaying the episode in my mind, a note of discord strikes and refuses to move on.
I catalog everything that has happened since arriving in the Hoia Baciu Forest. I scroll through the people and then events. Quite a lot of time may have elapsed. But then I realize I have no idea how long I have been here.
Going through my backpack, the protein bars and water I packed are almost gone. I remember there have been times when it was left behind. Still, a fortnight’s worth of supplies should not have vanished so quickly.
In my mind, only a handful of days have passed. Most of the people I have come across are either dead or a hallucination. I am unsure if the forest is living up to its name or if I am losing my mind. I wonder what my friends would think of me now, the big adventurer out to debunk and conquer, swallowed alive by bendy trees.
I am beginning to understand why no one could explain the haunt to me. While there are common sightings and sounds, each of us seems to have a unique experience. As if the forest itself is alive, hosting each of us curious enough to venture into its home.
The moment I began to think of the forest as being alive, a light started coming from inside the worn and torn house. Not like the light of the globes but much like candlelight or light from an oil lamp. The longer I watched, the brighter the light within the house became until it began to spill out the opening where window glass once hung.
I know this is an invitation to see what time is capable of doing, but I have mixed emotions after visiting the house as Claire. Then I hear the woman’s voice. “You are here as an observer Chase, to learn about our life as you requested.” I swallow the lump in my throat and stand to face the house. She is correct, I am the one who made the request, and the forest is merely responding in kind.
Debating if I will accept the invitation, another oddity occurs, or perhaps I have become oversensitive. Two sheep, then twelve more, a flock cross between myself and the house slowly as if on a Sunday drive. Around me, grazing the ground for something editable is my best guess. Moments later, one more lamb joins and following closely behind it, an irritated human gives the poor lamb an earful.
I do not understand anything he is saying to the lamb or the flock. Casually, he slowly walks through the sea of wool to approach me as I stand dumbfounded by the event. He smiles and says something I do not understand, so I smile, nodding back at him. He begins repeating a single sound which triggers the flock to move forward, so I wave to him as he passes.
Then he turns to me, wearing a smile, “careful not to become lost in oneself.” He then turns back to the flock and begins moving them away. Listening to the sheep in the background grow further and further away, I am consumed by what seems like a riddle. Not until all of the sheep and the man have vanished do I realize he has spoken to me in my native tongue.
What just happened?
Was it real?
What does it mean?
I look at the house in time to see the light fade.
Returning to my backpack, I remove the flashlight, testing it to check the battery is healthy. Then execute my decision by walking towards the house least another flock appears. Standing before it as it is now is disheartening, once a home, royal or not. The house was at the heart of things.
“Wait, please wait.”
I see a younger couple approaching, looking the outdoors type. The couple gets closer, and I feel the once bitten twice shy kicking in. Probably nothing more than another prank or test from the house and its inhabitants. I have had enough of it yanking me around like a puppet. Something unexpected may let it know I am aware and out of patience.
The woman is first to approach me, and before she can utter a word, I compliment her on her ensemble. Then comment, “Almost did not recognize you without your habit.” She turns to the man who has just joined us as he says, “I let you win.”
The woman turns to me. “I do not know what you are talking about.”
The man looks me in the eyes.”What is this all about?”
I believe this is going to be fun.”You would be up to speed if you had not let Guinevere win sport.”
Her head nearly snaps off its neck. The woman stomps one foot and stares intently at me and then slowly at the man. “Listen up, you did not let anyone win anything, and if you spout off again, I will give you a fat lip!.”
Oh, it is working out even better than I imagined. “Sister Guinevere, is that a proper way for a nun to respond?”
“What the hell is HE talking about, Gwen?”
She is tall but muscular, slightly aggressive, and not too feminine to intimidate. She walks up nose to nose against mine, then scoots her body to within inches of mine.
“Gwen, I hope that is your brother because he will not appreciate you trying to start something directly in front of him. I put my arm around her and draw her tight, then let go dropping my arm in preparation for the response.
She sidesteps, and I see her arm go up and back for the big T-off. What I do not see or suspect is the punch the man delivers, which somehow lands on my forehead in the same damn spot the light keeps irritating it. Shortly afterward, a slap across my cheek from the woman.
I laugh a little, my typical reaction as the anger builds, then gather myself while dodging the next slap attempt.
“OK, enough, Gwen. I apologize. I thought you were just another ghost or hallucination.
To my surprise and relief, they both smile, look at each other, and begin talking. Neither of them is coming up for air, and I can feel my patience slipping away while my forehead swells.
“Enough!, One at a time, please.”
“How do you know my name?” Gwen inquires.
“One hell of a lucky guess. You look more like a Dawn to me.” I respond.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I would have guessed your name to be Dawn.”
In the space between the house and the fire pit, grows a patch of bright green moss, no more than three feet in one direction, and a foot in another. I do my best to avoid walking on it for it has the appearance of a new carpet.
I turn to the man and then approach him. He takes a step back.
“Where did you learn to launch a punch?”
He looks a little sheepish, then laughs out loud.
“My foot slipped when I tried to avoid the moss and nail you.”
Who is he kidding? The only punch he has landed in adulthood is on his pillows. I decide I have caused enough trouble. Looking into the house, I could swear I heard a girl laugh.
“Did you hear that?” The man is looking at me.
“You plan on telling me your name, or should I just call you hey you?”
I can tell he is not sure how to read me.
“Alex, my name is Alex. Did you hear the girl?”
I look over at the woman.”How about you, Gwen?”
“My name is Guinevere, Not Gwen, Not G…”
“Not Nice.” I interrupt her, and Alex snickers. I am sure he will pay dearly, but I understand the attraction. She is a tall drink of water in the middle of the Sahara. Then prolonged silence, the tension grows.
The woman, a fine specimen with beautiful auburn hair, finally steps away from me to a comfortable distance.
“You like pushing buttons, I see.”
How disappointing. I recognized the bait and felt sorry for Alex.
“Sorry, I guessed you were both just creations of the forest.”
“You expect me to believe you?” She tilts her head and then looks down. Great, now, I have two dangerous situations to deal with.”
“I apologize, I hope both of you will take me at my word.” Poor Alex has no idea what kind of person she is.
“We have both been fooled more than once ourselves.” Alex slips.
Knowing her cards have been played, Gwen returns to civil behavior. I wonder what she is up to and what she wants from Alex. I wonder if they will still speak to each other once they leave this place.
“Really? care to share, my good man.”
“What were you doing when I interrupted you?” Gwen enquires.
I hope they do not plan on staying long. “I was going to tour the inside of the house.”
“Wonderful, care if we join you?”
She is so accustomed to getting her way that she is already moving past me. I look over to Alex and give him a nod.
Could Claire feel the growing disgust I have for the woman? I decide to make a few ground rules.
“Listen, a few things before we proceed; I want Alex second in line.
Be respectful, as this was once a family home. If I say stop, then freeze.
Guinevere is not very happy with my suggestions and is not talking.
Did either of you bring any flashlights?
“We did.” Alex is pulling one from his bag. Gwen has not spoken or given an indication either way.
“Great, we will get going then.”
Alex and I light up the way while Guinevere strides past me through the doorless opening. Just as I am about to enter, she heads back out, nearly causing me to fall.
“No, No, No, I am not going in there, infested with …” Gwen has her hands on her hips, staring down at Alex.
“You two are welcome to sit by the fire pit while I go in.” I wait for lightning to strike me dead, but no luck, then turn.
Shrugging my shoulder at Alex, he tries to mouth a word to me, but his partner spots him.
“Yes, spiders, why not scream it out loud, so everyone knows?
I would laugh, but it would only cause more pain and suffering for Alex.
“We are outta here!” Guinevere heads off as if she never stopped to tell me what to do or had a companion for the journey.
After Alex waves to me, he quickly catches up to join her.
Again I hear a girl giggle from inside the house. Perhaps Claire felt dismayed over the visitors after all. Looking over, I can see both Gwen and Alex have made much distance from me. Sadly the company of ghosts and hallucinations is winning out in the hospitality category.
As I cross the doorway threshold, I smell chocolate chip cookies. I wonder if chocolate was available in this area in the thirties or if only common behind these walls.
Slowly painting the light from left to right in sweeps, it looks like time has taken its toll. The quality of the craftsman was unable to alter time. Even in this stage of decay, it is obvious everything is made well.
My next step was dangerous as my foot went through the floorboard up to my angle. Leaning back, I was able to save myself a broken bone. But the woodcut through my clothing and skin.
I hobbled along for the next few steps until I managed to get a handle on the pain. Just another ache to add to the list, and sleeping on the ground next to the fire pit was not agreeing with my bones much. I noticed my clothes were loosening up since my arrival. I will have to look into eating more protein bars or supplementing my intake. Odd, since when back home, I would not lose weight to save my soul, but here, I could not maintain it. A strange place indeed.
The kitchen caught my attention as I discovered what appeared to be a china cabinet, well-made and hand-built. The doors refused to open easily until the left side finally gave way, opening up a view of plates and cups. Pulling a plate from the holder and wiping the dust and dirt from its surface, I was astonished to find a crest of arms with gold highlighting.
While unsure about the availability of chocolate, I was positive gold-plated china was not a common item in this area. Who were these people, and why were they here? Relatives of the crown or not, who would live out their days in hiding using the primitive environment of a forest. Poor Claire, who would she play with as a child, I wondered.
Sweeping the light around the remainder of the kitchen proved somewhat dull. It seemed to have the brunt of the damage but little else to capture my attention. Other than the staircase, which hung broken from the wall like a beaten, broken body left to frighten others away. Strange that all the items are high quality, but the staircase is damaged the most compared to its surroundings. Was it damaged by someone before time acted on it, but why?
As the torchlight travels up the staircase wall, I hear the giggle again.
“Claire?”
I felt ridiculous calling out her name, but also paternal, worried for her welfare as if she were alive. I thought I see a shadow pass me as if the staircase still existed. I must be getting tired, which is more common lately, the longer I remain. Time to head back to the pit for some nourishment and thought. I hate leaving the house, but there is probably little more to see before nightfall.
“Wait, Please.”
I look up to the sky in disgust, thinking Guinevere has returned.
I hear a mature version of the giggle I experienced earlier when entering the house. Slowly looking down to my left, there is nothing, but when I turn my head to the right, Claire is before me and smiling. My palms start to sweat, and I wonder if this is the real ghost of Claire or a dream, like before.
“You need to relax. Every time I see you, it is as if you are ready to run or explode.”
I can not help but smile because she is right.
“Sorry, May I be of any help Claire?”
“Now, you sound like one of our servants.”
A blur of color slowly makes its way before us, then materializes into an old, stern woman.
“Whatever am I to do with you, Claire? You must be careful about what you say.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
My knees give out temporarily. This resemblance of a human looks nothing like the woman previously seen as Her Grace. Before, when I viewed her through the eyes of Claire.
“Claire, I know you have things to do. Please leave me with Chase. We have things to discuss.”
“We do?”
“Yes, Your Grace.” I watch Claire fade away as if she was nothing more than smoke.
“Chase, there is no proper way to say this. I am just going to tell you.”
She looks frustrated, irritated, worried, and impatient. Frankly, I am pretty scared.
“My niece is quite enamored with you. I expect you to treat her like fine crystal.”
I am stunned. How do you respond to something so outrageous? I take my time answering, breathing in several deep breaths first. What a fool I am, a woman protecting her loved one in both life and death. Our love remains the same.
“Yes, Your Grace like the most precious ruby.”
“You must think me the fool?”
“Not at all. You hardly know me, and your love for your niece grows stronger each year, no matter the circumstance.”
The woman is rolling lacework between her hands, then smirks before replying.
“Chase, you may end up being all right after all.”
When I am about to thank her, she turns to leave and adds. “For an American.”
Then fades, and laughs as if she is pleased with herself.
I catch myself smiling. I have just recognized the woman as royalty without knowing who she is. Then she gives me a backhanded compliment after politely warning me about her niece. A ghost, so there is no possibility of dating or having a relationship. I am not crazy because I can not make up stuff this good.
I am exhausted. Not very hungry. I will have a nice hot cup of coffee and enjoy the fire. Turning, I am surprised to find night is with us. Every time I am in this house, I lose track of time.
Change my plans. I will build a fire, make coffee, and go to sleep.
