Chapter One
October 17, 2023
6:29 PM
West Hartford, Connecticut, United States of America
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“Fine!” Corbin shouts. “I’m going! Goodbye!” He runs upstairs to his bedroom and grabs a cloth messenger bag from the hook on the back of his door. He grabs a pair of sweatpants, a few t-shirts, and a spare hoodie. He pulls a single book off of his overflowing bookshelf, and picks up his sketchbook from his desk, as well as a few spare pencils. Then, he shoves his feet into his boots and stomps angrily out of the house. No one calls after him. No one seems to notice that he left.
Corbin runs out of the house, into the greyish night outside. I really should have brought a flashlight or something, he thinks. It’s growing darker by the minute. A thin layer of fog rolls over the ground, and everything is slightly damp from a heavy rain two days ago. The sky is a greyish blue, dotted with wispy clouds. Corbin looks over his shoulder at the house, and starts to run. He runs down the driveway to the street, then across the street to the large field that stretched between him and the woods. The grass is damp, but that doesn’t slow him down. Corbin runs across the field, his bag slapping against his leg. He runs until the woods are right in front of him. Ever since he was little, he parent’s had always warned him about going into the woods alone at night. There were bears, coyotes, and sometimes rattlesnakes. But right now, he didn’t think he had much of a choice. He walked into the trees, the darkness greeting him with open arms.
A cold breeze snakes through the trees, picking at Corbin’s curly hair. His eyes slowly adjust to the darkness. He looks around nervously before walking deeper into the woods. I can’t go back, he thinks, scratching the back of his hand lightly. As he walks, the autumn leaves crunch under his boots.
After a few minutes of walking, Corbin’s eyes have fully adjusted to the darkness of the forest. There is a snap somewhere in the woods, and his head immediately shoots up, looking for the source of the noise. “Who… Who’s there?” he asks quietly. When there isn’t a response, he bends down and picks up a large stick from the forest floor. “Who’s there?” he demands, a bit more forcefully. There is another crack, closer this time. And another, and another. Until…
A fat, furry head pokes out from the bushes. “Oh,” Corbin says with relief. “It’s a raccoon.” Crouching down slightly, he waves to the little creature. “Hey, you little trash panda!” The raccoon twists its head. “Yeah, you’re no danger, are you?” Corbin asks, smiling that it wasn’t a more dangerous animal, like a bear or coyote. The raccoon arched its back and started to growl. Corbin stepped back slowly. “Oh. Well, then, I’ll leave you alone,” he said, raising his hands and dropping the stick. There was another growl from behind him. A third and fourth on his right, and a fifth on his left. “Shit,” he whispers, looking at the five animals. Two lunge at him, and he tries his best to jump out of the way. Corbin tumble to the ground, and they start to stalk towards him. “Oh, shit, shit, shit,” he says loudly, scrambling to his feet.. The raccoons continue to walk forward. They’re going to attack him. Corbin fumbles for the stick, waving it threateningly. “Stay back!” he shouts, backing up so he is pressed against a tree. “S-stay back!”
One of the raccoons jumps forward, and Corbin smacks it away with the stick. It lands a few feet away with a thud. Two more jump forward, and Corbin is instantly overwhelmed at the attack. He slips to the ground, squeezing his eyes shut. He waits for them to land on him and start munching on his skin, but it never comes. He cracks open an eye. All five of the raccoons are hovering in mid-air, being sustained by silver strands of what looks like shiny string. “What the fuck?” Corbin asks quietly, crawling to his knees. He stares at the floating animals, and the shiny string. He stands up, slowly inching towards it. It looks almost like a net. He reaches out a hand to touch the floating net, but a voice from the shadows stops him. The voice has a small melodic lift not far off from that of the low notes on a cello. “I wouldn’t touch that if I were you."
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