Page 10 of Tempted
I’ve always been somewhat boring as a person, keeping to myself and getting lost in books or solo adventures. I’ve never really had friends or lived a normal teenage life full of parties or outings to movies, shopping, or whatever else people my age do. Sometimes it really sucked being the odd man—or woman, I suppose is more appropriate given the current state of the world—out, but I learned to rely on only myself and find beauty in the world around me on my adventures. Some might consider that character building. Or maybe I’m just trying to remain optimistic about the bleakness of my life.
Since I’ve been here, I haven’t bothered to attempt going out even though I know it’s easy enough to slip into the local bars—my classmates have said as much at least—or even really attempted to make any friends. Unless you count Jessica, or Jessie as she prefers, from the little coffee cart, and even then our fun banter never extends beyond my tea order. I’m pretty sure I’m hopeless and destined to be alone forever.
I won’t even be able to be a little old cat lady because I can’t take cats on excursions or to dig sites. Eh, who needs people when you’ve got ancient artifacts and unearthed history deep in the soils of our achingly beautiful planet? If I’m honest with myself, then the answer is me. I need people, or at least I crave them. Though, that’s not exactly true either. I’m happy as I am, but on a deeper level I crave the comfort and peace of connecting to another person. It’s the connection that I’ve never had but felt in books and movies so powerfully that I can’t imagine anyone wouldwantto live without it. Maybe that’s why I got all caught up in Professor Liar McLiarson? Or maybe I was right all along and he’s a shady bastard who’s somehow capable of wicked voodoo shit. Either way, it’s a hard no for me wherever he’s concerned.
Now all I have to worry about is this soul deep longing I feel to make my way to those ruins. Since I stepped foot on this island it’s felt as though there’s been a thrum in my veins, a natural high keeping me buzzed with unexplainable energy, and yet I still ache to seek out that which I’ve yet to explore. It’s physically impossible to ignore, growing stronger each and every day and without the oppressive edginess I feel whenever Dr. Creeper Pants is around, I think it’s time I finally seek out the adventure I crave so badly. It’s not exactly smart to go out into the unknown at night, especially without alerting anyone of my plans but I’ve got everything I need to do this as safely and as stealthily as I can without being noticed by anyone who’d care that I’m doing something I’m not supposed to. Doing my best to trust the process, I gather supplies into a backpack and load up my bike before changing into what I can only describe as my best interpretation of a Laura Croft ensemble, cute but functional. I’ve got spandex shorts on under some black cargo pants that pair with my hiking boots perfectly and a black high neck tank with a runner’s jacket for the drive to curtail some of the wind.
After I double check I have everything I need—water, snacks, camping and first aid supplies, and the like just to be safe—I slowly sneak my bike out of my garage and down the road for a decent trek before hopping on and revving up the engine. If the low rumble between my legs wasn’t enough to stir up a little excitement, the thought of discovering some sort of hidden secrets does.
I can’t fucking wait.
Staying off the beaten path is easier than I thought it would be, because there’s literally no path to be seen. It’s almost as if this part of the island was long ago forgotten, dressed in a shadowed veil, and keeping it out of the mind’s eye so nobody’s bothered to utilize the resources here. I’ve been hiking for under an hour now, taking things slow and steady, leaving small markers along my makeshift trail so I know how to get back to my bike, and I’ve already seen a small freshwater watering hole that trickles down a small creek into the unknown before me. I’ve seen berries, and various indigenous plants that are not only beautiful but can also be used for food or healing. I’m not an expert or anything, but basic knowledge tells me that these are good things to nurture and utilize—especially on such a small island. So why is the northern part of this land so desolate of its people?
There’s a small rustling in the forested foliage so I stop in my tracks, listening for any signs of being followed, but find it’s only a small animal scurrying off to live its little furry life. It’s too dark for me to have seen what it was, being that I’m mostly following the light of the moon, but I trust that as long as I don’t disturb nature, nature won’t bother to mess with me. It does give me enough pause to think and have me pull my small flashlight out though to ensure I’m not encroaching on the small creature's home, and that’s when I notice that in its haste, it’s led me to an actual pathway. The small trail is surprisingly not overgrown, considering how thick the plant life was getting to this point, almost as if it were grown with the intention of keeping people at bay. I’m not sure it’s a smart idea to follow such an obvious route, but just as I’ve been feeling, there’s a tug in my chest and an echo of something calling out to me in the back of my mind, so logic flies out the window and I trust my instincts to lead me where I’m meant to go.
The dirt lined footpath goes on for what feels like forever and I’m thankful for my small light because the further I go, the darker it seems to get. Just when I’m starting to think I’m walking in circles, does it start to show signs of change. Packed earth becomes old looking stone, cracked, and weathered. Some parts looking hand carved, others looking more natural. All of them being exquisite, breathtaking even, but long since forgotten just as everything else has proven to be. The trees and bushes give way to ancient stone walls covered in vines and moss, thick tree branches entwining themselves as though they’re large shelters for monsters born of fantasy and wild imaginations. The moonlight has gone, but I no longer need my flashlight either because interspersed amongst the beautiful forested sight of plants and trees and flowers and those vine covered stones that are as tall as any building in a major city, is an effervescent glow, looking as though I’ve come across the land of fae. Twinkling fairy lights and sparkling crystals have been cast along the path, which is no longer paved, but now a soft spongy grass that makes me want to take off my shoes and run wild and free through this land that my dreams are made of.
As I look about the expansive grounds I can only see fairies dancing on the multi-colored mushroom caps sprouting from the green earth, and fierce dragons that have learned to camouflage themselves in these hidden depths of forest as they hunt for pretty things to hoard or prey to vanquish before they can descend on this otherworldly place. My mind conjures images of sorcerers gathering ingredients to weave wondrous magics across the lands, and giants building the large homes, or even tinkering elfish folk making things anew for all to enjoy and it’s these thoughts that make me want to stay here, never to leave again.
If only that were possible.
And just like that, reality starts creeping back into my vision and I see this all for what it is, despite going in and out of my imaginative thoughts. This place is that of magic, desperately trying to stay alive in the absence of its power source and all I want to do is give it its power back.
My body quakes with resonance as the feeling of rightness falls over me. It’s like taking my first breath after being suffocated all the years of my life. It’s as if all my dreams have come to be. It’s like… it’s like I’m home. I’ve never felt so comforted by my surroundings before. It’s as though I’ve become one with the earth at my feet and the wind swirling all around me, kicking up fallen leaves and dust that sparkles like magic. My heartbeat thuds to the beat of the song playing through my mind’s eye as though I’ve traveled back in time and want to dance alongside my people of times since forgotten.
Closing my eyes, I hold my hands out wide and breathe in deeply, enjoying the moment.
“There should be a place where only the things you want to happen, happen,” I whisper into the wind, quoting one of my favorite childhood novels,Where the Wild Things Are,as I let everything settle inside of myself before I walk through the overwhelmingly large branches that look suspiciously of old homes, but on a much larger scale. I study things quickly as I go, making note of markings etched into the old interwoven branches that lead into the handmade cave dwellings, and the way they’re all built in a circular pattern, the middle of which is where my small trail ended. How overwhelmed I must have been to not first notice that this was a village, but why is everything so huge? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say there really was a land of giants hidden amongst a tiny island, but that’s impossible.
Historically, it makes no sense, though there’s no real evidence against it either. Butlogically, it makes no sense either. Giants are about as real as vampires or werewolf and leviathan shifters. As in, not at all. Even my belief in magic only goes so far. As much as I’d love to think that the fae truly had blessed this earth and the immortal gods my dad’s obsessed with are as real as my own very tangible, breathing self, I can hear mother’s voice in my head telling me that there’s no substantiated evidence to prove it. Even this primitive shelter I stand in isn’t validation that what I’m fantasizing about is real. No matter how much I wish it to be so.
Letting out a depressed sigh, I let go of my fantastical imaginings of colossal beings dwelling here, being one with the island and using magic to keep themselves hidden as they live in peace and tranquility, dancing at gatherings, and farming this land, hunting when needed, and generally doing right by those who live beyond this beautiful place.
It’s time to move on and find the ruins I’m here to seek.
With that thought, I take a moment to appreciate the tingling sensation roaring through me from my imaginative thoughts before I go back to the center of the circular shaped commune and take a better look, only to see a shimmering light in the darkest part of this place. Hidden between two of the massive residencies, is at first glance nothing more than shadows and ambiguity, and if not for the pull in my chest and the tingling in my gut, I’d have dismissed the darkness entirely. How lucky for me that a crystal or lightning bug or something drew my attention that way because I can feel it like a moth drawn to a flame that that’s where I need to go.
Following that strange little light, I set off to see what other adventures I may find. For now, I’m happy to pretend that I’m following a fairy. But that’s the trouble with fae, they’re tiny little tricksters at the best of times, and this one may be leading me to my wildest dreams come true or my doom, but isn’t that the fun of it?
Chapter Six
Felix
Ihaven’tbotheredturningmy light back on because the moonlight came back to me just past the monster homes residing mere moments behind me. Now that I think about it, the entire place seemed shrouded in darkness and the deep wooded areas that no one would dare venture into unless they were like me and seeking life through adventure and wonder alone. It wasn’t like the other parts of nature that I’d hiked through to get to that point, it had an air of… something. I’m not sure I can name it, really. Were I not the thrill seeking adventurist I am, I’m not sure I’d have even thought to move past the better lit spaces around me. Hell, I’d likely be like everyone else and avoid the whole northern part of the island as well. Even my classmates didn’t seem terribly interested in this place, or maybe they prefer to avoid expulsion?
Eh, life’s not worth living if the boundaries don’t get pushed a little every once in a while.
For those of us who live our lives so lonely, we often search for love and acceptance where we can. For me, that’s not in people, rather in storybooks or Indiana Jones worthy quests or in buried, unremembered artifacts long since left behind for me to find. I grow attached to those lost treasures because, even if only in my own imagination, I can pretend that making it my own connects me to those who once maybe felt alone too, and together we are never unloved or unappreciated.
A few years back I was on an excursion with my parents and I’d found an old brittle walking stick. At first glance it could have easily been dismissed as any other stick you’d find and probably use for kindling of some sort, considering we’d been staying with a tribe of peoples that still held bonfires regularly to bring their small community together for ceremonial gatherings, or simple comings together in communal unity—it was a beautiful thing to bear witness and I’ll forever treasure those moments, even if my parents were too busy to partake. Anyway, the more I looked at that stick, the more I noticed the delicate intricacies engraved into the surprisingly weighted staff. There was a wonderfully gnarled wooden knob at one end where the swirling etchings began and suffused themselves into script and back into the most beautiful patterns. I’d ran it straight back to the campgrounds where we’d been staying and showed it to my father and we’d then gotten an interpreter to help translate the engraved script. Our translation had not been perfect but it had said something along the lines of, “Those who find love in life never walk alone.” And it struck a chord with me that up until that point, I’d been seeking love from my parents by following their path rather than finding love in the little things that I found along my travels of that road they paved for me.
Even now, I’m out here searching for something to set me apart from them—something to make me better than them or to prove myself, forever falling back into those old habits—when really, I should be enjoying the journey. Back in that strangely massive village, I should have allowed myself the grace to appreciate the stories I instinctively came up with instead of pushing it all away and listening to the voice of my mother, stern and only fact finding.
I don’t want to be the person my parents want me to be. I want to be the person I am and know that they love me anyway. And if they don’t love me for me, then I want to find a way to be happy regardless of that.
I deserve that much, don’t I?
Too caught up in my thoughts, I trip over a rogue tree branch that’s jutted up out of the ground like the spires of hell’s gates coming up to the earth's surface, landing with a loud “oomph”.
