…
Heavy steps could be heard on the porch of the house. A man, judging by the black shoes, walked up to the door and took something out of his pocket laying it on the wooden bar. After carving something on the wood near it, heavy steps echoed on the wooden flooring disappearing in the distance.
The phone ringing woke Josephine up as she immediately grabbed it, sighing.
“Yes, who’s this?” – she asked with her eyes still closed.
“Hey Josey, it’s me, Smith. Listen, we need to talk about something urgent. Meet me at the bay in an hour.”
“I hope it’s something important, Smith. I’m coming.”
She put the phone on the counter and started dressing up, looking out of the window through the blinds. Squinting on the wooden top at the front for a while, rubbing her eyes, she said:
“What’s that?”
Totally dismissing it, still in a sleepy state of mind, she walked to the toilet. A phone call met her as soon as she got out and now fully awoke Josephine for sure saw something outside with her peripheral. Checking the surroundings by lowering the blinds, she walked outside making sure that no one was there. The picture got clearer as she stepped closer and closer to it – a VHS tape lay there, with 'J.' written in white over a grey label. Josephine rushed back inside immediately and closed the door.
“Yes Josey, I’m getting in my car, I hope you’re on your way.”
Looking at the ground with her heart beating out of her chest, holding the phone, she said:
“Umm, Smith. I found a VHS tape by the front door just lying there.”
“What?” – he asked, confused. – “A VHS tape?”
“Yes. Do you think this is some kind of surprise, someone from the camp maybe?”
“Come to the bay, we’ll talk it over.”
She put the phone in her pocket and looked at the tape outside once again. Locking the front door, she grabbed it and put it in her bag, rushing to the car immediately.
Chapter 3
Local’s solitude and tradition.
The water was clear blue, waves were slowly reaching the shore and disappearing. A sunny day was upon the town, but the Sun was hidden behind the clouds, peeking through from time to time at Smith standing on the shore. He bent over the steel guardrail and stood still, looking deep into the water.
“Margo, where are you?”
Putting his head up after five minutes and looking to the left, he saw Josephine walking up to him through a weird tunnel-like alley. He turned around and now his back was facing the vast sea behind.
“Hey, Josey.”
“Good morning, Smith. How’d you sleep?” – she answered nearing him, looking into the distance with squinty eyes.
“I didn’t, that’s why I’m here. Listen.” – he said and turned back. – “I just thought. That house near the forest, remember? We got to check it out.”
“Really?”
“Don’t worry about it, we just need to check something, and we’ll be out of the house.”
His eyes shifted to the horizon and with solitude he stood there leaving her confused and curious.
“Okay. But you know I’m doing this for you, right? I never even liked her. She was rude and just an asshole.”
“Come on… She was just quiet.”
“With you she was, when you were fucking her.”
“Josey, what the fuck is wrong with you?!”
Smith raised his voice and she put her head down.
“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to say she was quiet, probably loud with you, huh?”
Smith put his arm around her black coat.
“What’s wrong?”
As they locked eyes a slight smile slowly emerged on her face.
“Just going through a hard time, you know. And also, this tape that I found in the morning. It’s very weird, Smith.”
“Can I see it?”
Birds flew over their heads, flying to sit on the stones near the water. Locals gather at the same time as always for quarter of a decade at this bay. The bond is strong with each other knowing exactly what to expect – birds expect food, locals expect the company, the company of another God’s creation.
…
“Good day! The 2nd day, the same route as yesterday – to the west!”
…
Menny forest. First discovered back in the 18th century, when foreign invaders depicted it in their journals – very-very old journals. A very interesting reputation of the forest resided by a very rich ecosystem – depictions involve signs, feelings, instincts about the forest. Instincts of betrayal, hatred, satanic predisposition. Might be that the invaders were not welcomed in these lands.
…
“What were you doing here, Margo?” – Smith asked himself.
Chapter 4
‘Margaret is alive?’
The bright balcony at the seaside was lit in a very moody way; Limned by the Sun someone’s figure appeared like a shadow in the room. The beach full of people was in action before the still picture of this room not that far away from it and only the journal pages with the pen scrubbing on its surface passionately could be heard which disturbed the beautiful silence of the room, but with a purpose.
“Summer’s coming.” – she said and looked out the window after writing the last word in the diary:
‘Amen.’
Sounds reached the room from downstairs – steps, heavy steps. She took the diary and instantly put it in the crack between wooden flooring. Steps now could be heard clearer with the floor creaking, intensifying the suspense, but deciding to take her time she opened it once again, writing something in a rush.
…
“Listen, I’ll send you my help to find that diary, ok?”
“What? What do you mean ‘I’ll send you my help’? Can’t you clarify?”
“I need to go, Charlie, I’m in a hurry. You’ll find my guardian where my diary is in the room, ok?”
Margaret fleet in the distance, leaving him with no time to say anything.
“Margo! Damn you! Always doing it your own way.”
…
The door to the room bathing in sunlight opened and a man walked in.
“Good day, Ms. Margaret. The food is ready, we’re waiting.”
A tall figure stood in the doorway, halfway in. His deep voice broke the silence and solitude and was continued by him uncomfortably staring at the ground.
“You two can wait.” – she said and sat back down. He glanced at her once again and closed the door.
…
Atlas was running through the open field – a new part of the forest was discovered by the group.
“Hey, look!” – a little girl screamed; The sky was totally occupied by the birds.
“Something’s not right here.” – Isaac stated standing by Smith. He was in his 40’s but looked younger.
“What is it?” – Smith asked.
“Birds… They do not fly south this time of the year, something is happening.”
…
A sad tale of the birds
The sky caught her attention. Birds, freely flying, brought her to walk to the window near the balcony – the window was almost as big as the door leading to it.
“Wow.” – she said quietly. The Sun, standing near the horizon, was ready to disappear into the unknown, to be substituted by its grey sister. Mesmerized by their dance she unconsciously started imitating them, walking to the balcony, and flipping her hands desperately. Wings slowly started showing through her skin and feathers around it started forming – beige feathers with brown spots. They rapidly formed leaving even Margaret in shock, but it stopped as the metal corset which appeared to be around her back held it in place. And as she looked back at the sky, in despair – the birds were in the distance, not recognizing her existence even slightly anymore, heading right to the south.
