Instant

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Fear doesn't shut you down; it wakes you up

― Veronica Roth

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I was running.

My legs pumped, bringing me further and further away from what I was running from. Driven by fear and adrenaline, my feet tore at the lush, grassy ground, as if they were angry to even walk upon the earth.

My brain pulsed, the banging of a drum beating constantly on my skull. But it wasn't unusual. At the moment it seemed like the most natural part of my body.

Bang bang bang.

One, two, three - hitting sixty with a harsh hammer that pierced my temples. It sounded much like a gunshot, but harsher still, like time itself was exploding.

Seconds, minutes, hours passed, and I could feel it all in my head. Sixty seconds, paired with a harsh bang at the end. Sixty minutes, followed by an even harsher bang.

A tree branch slapped against my face as I ran past it. I didn't notice the hard wood until it was too late. My legs kept working, kept driving me, and my hand went up to cradle my stinging face. Drops of blood inked slowly from the wound. I looked down for the only second I could spare. Blood dripped down my fingers, red and sticky.

My eyes flitted around. The forest was fading away at the edges, inky black fog seeping in through the looming trees.

The knotted, brown hair atop my head was flying in snarled locks behind me, catching on small branches and twigs, but I kept running, because suddenly the feeling of being chased was heavy in my conscience.

They was the predator and I was the prey. I couldn't hear the footsteps, though in my head they were loud and heavy, crushing me under their weight.

Fear was etching itself into my skin, creating scars that sliced through my being. My heart was hammering inside of my chest, so fast that it physically hurt.

"Stop, " I cried out loud in between gasping for air. My lungs were collapsing with every anxiety-filled moment.

Bang bang bang, went the drum in my head.

"Please!" I cried, my voice raspy. I couldn't explain it, but I knew that getting caught would be the end - it would either be the end of the pain and misery, or the start of something much worse.

The latter seemed more likely.

Suddenly, the scene changed, and leaves crunched beneath my feet. It was autumn, but the absence of birds proved that I was nearing cold and winter.

I hated the cold, and cringed as snow piles leaked up from the forest floor, piling higher and higher until it became difficult to run.

Torrents of cool air were rushing in behind me, pushing pushing pushing, until my body threatened to splay itself across the snow.

My bare arms and legs, covered by shorts and a t-shirt, were suddenly piled with goosebumps, and I began to shiver.

The predator was running behind me, their footsteps finally mixing in with mine. They were close.

Fear, cold and crushing, filled my chest. I felt their presence behind me, running faster than I could.

My converse shoes were soaked and filling with snow. I almost cried out when one of them slipped off my heal and was left behind in the snow. The now-bare foot slapped against the freezing snow, shooting pain slicing up my leg.

I didn't want to do it anymore.

What if I stop running? I wondered vaguely. Will it end?

But the question of how it would end was more overpowering, and I pumped my arms faster, moving my legs until they threatened to break.

Snow was falling, pelting, shooting down from the sky through the leafless tree branches.

I ran.

"Remember me, Adira?"

The voice was hard and cracking, a deep, angry male.

A scream tumbled out of my mouth and I choked on it, struggling for air.

There was something so familiar about the voice that it sent a spine-chilling shiver down my back.

The banging in my head was as prominent as ever. My skull was being smashed with a hammer.

The man was getting closer - I could feel him on my heels. It was only one person, but it felt like an overpowering group of many.

A hand, as cold and clammy and as frozen as the air around me, clamped town on my shoulder.

I was jerked back.

The scream in my mouth was cut off by another hand, which slapped down on my mouth. I struggled to draw in air through the stiff fingers. My chest constricted.

And then I was falling.

<<>>

I woke up, another scream caught in my throat.

Drops of sweat slid down my forehead as I dropped my head into my hands, pushing my bed sheet away from my sweaty body.

The same dream, over and over, for the past two weeks, and I didn't know what it meant.

"Dream my ass, " I muttered shakily. That had been a nightmare.

The fear I'd felt was still caught in my chest, taking up too much space.

I never knew what the nightmare meant. Except that when I woke up, the banging in my head was gone.

~~~<>~~~<>~~~<>~~~

When I give you my time, I'm giving you a portion of my life that I will never get back.

So don't waste it.

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"I expect that video on my desk next Monday, young lady, " Mr. Hawthorn yelled after me with a smile. I tilted my head back towards him and offered a wave and a smile. "And I expect it to be your best work yet!"

I chucked lightly to myself and continued down the hall. My shoes clack against the linoleum like an iambic pattern, giving out a quiet squeal as the left sole rubs against the floor.

Rows of lockers stare at me as I go by, the school empty of every student but one. I check the time on my phone.

5:45.

Nate's practice is almost done.

I hike my backpack further up my shoulder and rearrange my camera equipment. As editor-in-chief of the school's newspaper and a dedicated member of our broadcasting class, I had weekly video projects to shoot and turn in for various reasons. It had been my idea this year to not only have a student yearbook, but to have a "video yearbook, too." The school board loved the idea, but unfortunately it meant many hours of my time dedicated to executing it correctly.

Short videos of each student had to be taken, as well as shots of sports games, theatrical performances, senate meeting - the list goes on.

I huff in the empty hallway.

I did a little sheté over a yellow parking block and leaned my hip against the hood of the car once I reached it, crossing my legs at the ankles. My backpack dropped with a "thud" onto the asphalt as I let it slip off my shoulder.

Pieces of my hair were lifted up and danced in the sudden breeze that brushed past me. The sun shown down through the clouds, surprisingly warm and sticky for a autumn day in early November.

My boyfriend, Nate, had football practice after school and it ended right around the time theater practice did. He figured that since we were together, I shouldn't need to drive myself to school - even though I had a car. I thought it was sweet. I didn't mind being driven places, especially considering I wasn't too keen on driving, myself. My mother, however, thought the whole situation was a waste of a car.

My boyfriend's name was Nate. We'd met our sophomore year when I had tutored him through math class. He made me smile, and he made me feel loved - most of the time, at least.

I waited by his car for a few minutes before I saw him bounding out of the locker room, blond, shaggy hair wet and dripping. I leaned away from the car so I could hug him, but Nate had different ideas.

As I leaned in, he grabbed my waist and shoved his head down, shaking it like a wet dog. Water droplets splashed on my face and shirt as I screeched and tried to push him away. His arm held me captive, and I began beating his muscled chest to get away.

"No!" I yelled, laughing. "Let go of me!" After shaking his head a little longer, Nate looked up and brushed his lips against mine. He started laughing as I wiped off my wet face dramatically. "You're a sugartit, you know, " I said, using the only "curse" word my mother allowed in the house.

Nate laughed at me, most likely making fun of my inability to curse, his smile nearly splitting his face apart.

Nate was the dictionary description of attractive. With his strong shoulders, and chiseled face, he could easily pass as a model - which made dating him pretty easy.

"But you still love me!" He exclaimed, smiling widely.

I paused for a split second, not sure what to say. I'd never before said "I love you" back to him. To anyone.

Not noticing my grimacing face, Nate asked, "So how was your nerd thing?"

Aggravation spread through my chest. He always called my theater practices nerdy, something that actually slightly offended me.

I rolled my eyes and held my hand out for the car keys, wanting to get away from school as quickly as possible.

Nate could see that his comment had affected me, and said, "Look, I'm sorry, babe, I just don't get why you do those stupid plays."

It was supposed to be a reassuring comment, but it only made me want to stab Nate's car keys into the side of his precious vehicle.

Nate fished the bits of metal out of his jeans pocket and tossed them to me. The keys glinted in the sun before landing in the palm of my hand. I unlocked the car door and tossed my bag in the back.

Lowering myself into the passenger seat, I reached over to put the key in the ignition. The car roared to life with a single turn.

Nate climbed into the car.

"Being in the musical is not nerdy, " I huffed, bringing it up for the one-hundredth time this year. My seatbelt buckled with a "click" after I'd drawn the strip of leather across my chest.

Nate laughed mockingly, and started to back the car out of the school parking lot. There were still a dozen or so cars still there, awaiting the arrival of their owners.

I decided to let my annoyance go. After all, I thought Nate's choice of a sport - football - wasn't too entertaining, either.

I watched my boyfriend maneuver his car onto the main road, trees looming up on each side of the street. We passed the sign near the front opening that read "Brewer High School, home of the Ravens, " with a matching black bird as a statute next to it.

Soon the sign was gone, and we were speeding away towards the center of town.

To get to my house from the school, you had to drive through Main Street - a half mile long stretch of random stores and cute diners, along with the post office and library - and out into the country.

I lived in the "rural" part of my small town of Brewer, Michigan. Although "rural" was a daft thing to call it because of the general size of the town to begin with. Safe to say, the entire town could be considered as straight country land, with a spattering of stores and houses in between.

It was about a three minute drive through the town itself, and a fifteen minute drive from my house to the school.

Nate lived in the only area that could be considered as a neighborhood. He had the largest house in town because his father was the mayor of the area, and the decisions of his family controlled those of everyone else.

As we neared Main Street, I stared at Nate's chest.

"Please put your seat-belt on."

He turned to look at me, a you've-got-to-be-kidding look on his face.

"What?" I asked. "You want to get in an accident and die?" He rolled his green eyes, and looked back towards the road. The car made an angry humming sound, as if it abhorred the sound of Nate and I arguing. We crossed from the empty road and onto the official Main Street. The car flew past stores, going faster than it should have. "Please, Nate, just put it on."

He knew perfectly well that car crashes were a very sensitive topic for me. They hit home in ways other things couldn't.

"No, what are you? My mother?" He spat, harshly. "Jeez."

I sighed deeply. I hated when he was like that. Why couldn't he just put on the damn seat belt? I wasn't asking much.

My chest constricted.

In the back of my head, I could picture a navy blue Montana van, speeding down the highway, going too fast.

The image zooms into the drivers seat, where I can't see the man's face. It shows his chest, where there isn't a seat belt protecting him.

The car starts to veer off the road--I closed my eyes tightly, and bit my tongue, so I'd stop picturing it.

Suddenly, I gasped for air, not even realizing I'd been holding my breath. There was an ache, an empty hole deep in my chest.

"Just put the seatbelt on, " I whispered, barely audible. He didn't.

Nate angrily blew air out through his nose. "Just because your dad died in a car crash, Adira, doesn't mean I will, too."

It was an awful thing to say. I squeezed my eyes shut to keep in the tears that were forming.

I was biting my tongue so hard the metallic taste of blood spiked my tastebuds.

The stores stopped flying past us, and fields of crop land began to appear.

"So how was football practice?" I whispered shakily, attempting to change the subject so he wouldn't see me cry. My boyfriend hated when people cried.

Nate suddenly let out a string of profanities. I took it as practice hadn't gone as he'd planned.

"It sucked, " he hissed. "Stupid coach doesn't know anything." He turned to me, not even bothering to glance at the road. My stomach lurched into my throat.

"You know what he did?" I shook my head, making sure to watch the road for oncoming traffic.

I was going to die.

"He told me I had to sit out the game because my throwing isn't 'up to standards'." He used finger quotes, taking his hands completely off the wheel.

My mouth was glued shut.

I was going to die.

"That asshole of a coach is putting in the backup Quarterback instead of me!"

Our car started to swerve into the lane next to ours.

The scream I had been holding in my chest escaped, and my eyes snapped shut for a moment before I grabbed the wheel and swerved the car into it's appropriate lane.

By this time my heart was pounding, not that Nate seemed to notice.

"You just almost just got us killed, " I muttered shakily, trying to breath again.

I wanted to throw up. The nauseous feeling swirled in my stomach while my head pounded in the inside of my skull. It terrified me to know that - at any time - I could be killed in an instant, just like my father.

"What did you say?" Nate asked, venomously. We'd reached my house, and he pulled into my driveway. The brick house in front of us stared down at me, watching the scene play out. The green bushes lining the front of the house seemed to huddle deeper into the afternoon shadows.

I unbuckled my seat belt, muttering a "nothing", and started to get out of the car.

"No, tell me, " Nate demanded, grabbing my arm harshly and pulling me back into the car. I stumbled, my shin hitting the edge of the door. Pain spiked up my leg.

"Nothing, " I said sweetly, trying not to moan in agony, hoping he'd let go of my arm. His nails were digging into my skin, threatening to draw blood. I leaned forward and gave him a kiss. "See you tomorrow!"

I smiled, even though I was cringing inside, and rubbed the sore spot on my arm.

There'll be a bruise there tomorrow, I thought to myself. I'd have to wear a long-sleeve shirt to hide the marks.

It wasn't the first time it'd happened.

As I walked up to my front door, reaching in my backpack for the key, I swore I heard something.

Briefly - just for a moment - there was the sound of a clock ticking, and the ding of the hour. I strained my ears and looked to the right, then the left.

I was staring at nothing but the side of my house.

The noise was louder now. Each tick counting off a second passing, from a clock that wasn't there.

~~~<>~~~<>~~~<>~~~

I knew when I met you an adventure was going to happen

-A.A. Milne

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Nate was silent in the car the next morning. That was what he did - held grudges until I forgave him.

He sat in the driver's seat, one hand lazily on the wheel; the dictionary description of uncaring. However, the white skin around his clenched knuckles proved that he was, in fact, very agitated.

Even though he had started it.

But I hardly ever succumbed to his silent demand for an apology. It was much easier to simply wait until he was no longer mad so our relationship would go back to normal. Whatever "normal" was.

So I was stubborn. Sue me.

When we arrived at school, Nate was still ignoring me, and life continued to soak up blandness. Excitement ceased to enter the void that was my existence.

However, as I sat through class after boring class, my ears continuously strained towards the clocks that were above each door. Because my school was a rather old one, we still had analog clocks, which I imagined would make a ticking noise if you stood close enough.

But even as I stood directly below the door - awkwardly clogging the flow of students - I was not close enough to hear the ticking. I watched the hands move, hearing the phantom ticking in my head, but there was nothing.

By the end of third hour, I had determined two of three things for sure.

The first being that you had to be very, very close to hear the ticking of a clock - and maybe not even then.

The second being that, unless someone had placed one there, there were no clocks anywhere outside my house.

And the third - the one I was unsure of - was that maybe the ticking had been only in my head.

Which would make me slightly insane.

But it was the only possibility that made sense.

Except for the fact that it didn't.

<<>>

Mr. Telvic's voice rumbled through the classroom, daring us, or anyone else, to try to understand what he was talking about. Being the book-lover I was, I grasped on to every word, my mind suspended in air and being prodded by the complex words and beautiful concepts.

After a look around the room, however, I noted that others were not so lucky.

Rachel, for instance, was next to me and cracking jokes the entire time, most of which made no sense at all. You had to applaud her for trying, though.

That girl could lighten the mood at a funeral, which was partially why we'd become friends so many years before.

"In this part, Hamlet is speaking in soliloquy, so he's speaking his thoughts aloud, without regard of any other listeners, " Mr. Telvic says, speeding through his definition of soliloquy as if it was irrelevant to the story. "Hamlet is really questioning the connotation of life, and why there are so many austerities. He wonders if it is even worth continuing - his life - or not."

Mr. Telvic talks with such passion, like he is truly interested in the topic at hand. But I knew he'd been teaching for far too many years to still be interested in a book he probably had memorized.

"So, finally, he comes to a conclusion: that the main reason the common person stays alive is that they fear death, and are uncertain as to what lies ahead." He pauses, for affect no doubt, then continues. "And this is probably my favorite part in the entire story, when he utters these six words. To be, or not to be."

I don't think there's anything quite like listening to a good speech. Nothing that gives you goosebumps like a man talking so passionately about such a deep subject.

Until...

"To pee, or not to pee, more like it, " Rachel whispered, crossing her legs tightly. "I think I'm gonna wet my pants."

And the magic of Mr. Telvic was gone.

"Rae, I told you to go before class, " I muttered, trying not to get caught talking in the middle of class.

"Yeah, but I didn't have to go then, " she whined, reminding me of her six-year-old sister.

"So raise your hand and ask to go, " I recommended.

"Adira, you don't understand. If I do that, then he'll just say 'class is done in ten minutes, you can wait', " she shot back, lowering her voice to mock Mr. Telvic's. I held back a laugh.

"Yeah, so wait the ten minutes then." The answer seemed pretty simple and easy to me, but then again, I wasn't the one who had to go.

Mr. Telvic, oblivious to the bathroom issue going on in the back of the room, wasn't making matters any better.

"To be, or not to be, " he recited. "That is the question. To be, or not to be." I thought the only thing Rachel was probably hearing was "to pee, or not to pee".

I looked at the clock - something that made me slightly wary if I was at all honest - seven minutes left, she could hold it.

Or so I thought.

Mr. Telvic's eyes searched the room, smiling, looking for someone to answer the question that was written clearly on his bearded face. His eyes landed on his culprit.

"Rachel, " her eyes widened as he called her name, "what do you think this means?" I turned to look at her, opening my mouth- "with your own words, please, not Ms. Brower's, " he scolded. I turned away. Well, at least I tried to help her.

"I..." Rachel was saying, "I think it means... I guess it could.... Hamlet..." She closed her eyes tightly.

I could tell it was taking pure willpower just to not pee right in her chair. "Stupid Hamlet, " she muttered. We all tried not to laugh. Laughing at this fragile moment would ensure the entire class's fate of impending doom - a lot of homework. "It means..." She finally bolted up from her seat, hand raised high. "I have to pee!"

Laughter bubbled put of every single person in the classroom, except for Mr. Telvic, as she hobbled as quickly as she could out of the classroom and to the bathroom, legs still clenched together. She struggled with the door, but when she got it open, she was out of the classroom faster than lightning.

My cheeks were starting to hurt from the smile splayed across them. The kid across from my desk was laughing so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.

There wasn't a whole lot of laughing in English, so I was sure they'd be thanking Rachel later - until the massive homework was assigned.

As my teacher passed out the Hamlet books that we'd need for the semester, I wondered what the world would be like without Rachel in it. Less enjoyable, that was for sure.

Mr. Telvic muttered something about us leaving and the class got up and rushed towards the door. We weren't allowed to leave until the bell rang, but people still flooded the doorway, pushing to be the first to lunch.

I leaned towards Rachel's desk, grabbing her bag along with my own.

Half way to the door, the bell shrieked a sound of delight, and the wave of students dispersed from the classroom.

"See you tomorrow, Mr. Telvic, " I said to the old man. He nodded curtly before resuming his work.

I stepped out of the classroom, Rachel meeting me at the door.

"So how was your pee?" I asked, grinning and handing Rachel her bag.

"Aw, shut up, " she replied, grabbing the bag back and lifting it onto her shoulder.

The hallway was crowded with people rushing to their next classes. Groups of girls huddled in corners, talking gossip and fiddling their arms to explain a juicy story. Couples lined the wall of lockers, making out and fondling each other until I was half tempted to sprint to the nearest trash can to spill the contents of my breakfast.

"Ew, " Rachel commented about a particular couple. "Seriously, Natalie and Josh need to get a room."

I laughed, trying to shield my eyes. I didn't see anything except a spot of plaid from the flannel Josh was wearing, but that splash of color was enough.

Natalie was that one cliché girl in every high school movie who was a total bitch and slept with a different guy every night.

Except her and Josh had been dating for three weeks now - a record for Natalie - and it made me wonder if things were changing.

Natalie and I were been friends in eighth grade when I had had no one else. She hadn't always been a total hoe-bag, but then again she had stolen the middle school love of my life, Drake Richards, so I should have guessed where she would end up.

Rachel and I pushed our way through a group of jocks who were beginning to bang a series of hard objects on the metal lockers. One of the boys, Thad, grabbed me by the arm and pulled me in.

"Adira!" He screamed in my ear over the banging. I laughed as he stumbled over his words. I had to guess that he's been partying a little too hard the night before. He grabbed a stray lock of my uncontrollable brown hair and twisted it. "There's a party this Friday! Jake's house. Be there!"

And with that, he winked, pushing me out of the loud-mouthed group of boys.

I was still giggling when Rachel grabbed my wrist and pulled me away.

"Dude, don't let Nate see you with him, " she warned, her voice low.

I blinked. "Why not?"

Rachel snorted. "You don't remember that one party?" When I didn't reply she elaborated. "You know... Thad tried to give you a lap dance...?"

I snorted. I couldn't believe I'd forgotten about that. There was a light scar that looked like a crescent moon tattooed on my side from where Nate had dug his thumb into the skin. I hadn't told Rachel about that one.

I didn't tell Rachel about most of the little "incidents" between me and Nate. I knew that if I did, she'd very well force us to break up, and I didn't want that.

"Nate was so pissed that night, " I said, sobering.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "When is he not?"

She looked around the hallway as she started to walk. The hallway was clearing up a little as we walked to our lockers. However, we were in no rush because we had lunch.

Rachel stood on her tip toes to peer over the heads of some young freshman that were barreling through to avoid being late to class.

"Looking for a new lover?" I teased, smiling. Her eyes were glinting with mischief and I followed her down the hallway, heading towards our lockers. Near the very end of the hallway, our lockers stood right next to each other.

"Actually, yes, " she replied, turning the lock to the heinously blue, metal door. There was the click that signified it's opening, and she yanked the door almost off it's handles, stuffing her backpack inside.

"What?" I asked, not expecting there to actually be someone. "Who?"

She turned to grin at me, her locker forgotten. There was a girlish smile splayed across her face. "There's a new guy starting tomorrow."

I rolled my eyes, disappointment flooding my chest. "Is that all?" I asked, shoving my backpack into my now open locker and grabbing my drama book and binder. I could swear there was a new guy every week. Or so it seemed to me. I never really looked because I was already in a steady relationship. Rachel, however, thought of boys kind of like sculptures in a museum - they were pretty to look at, but not to touch.

My claim of never ending new students was probably far from the truth. Mostly because Brewer, Michigan wasn't exactly that big, and didn't attract families the way a larger, suburb area might.

"All?!" She asked incredulously, mocking me. "This one is really cute!"

I laughed, propping my backpack in my locker on one of the hooks and zipping it open.

"That's what you always say, " I smirked. "You've said it about every new kid so far - and only one of them ended up actually being cute--"

"See, I was right about Anthony!" Rachel squealed.

"--and now he's a total druggie, " I finished, laughing

Rachel pouted.

"Stop being so picky, " she said, mock glaring and trying to stifle a smile. "He was nice when he wasn't knee deep in pot. You need to lower your standards or you're going to end up alone!" She jabbed a finger at me. "With a bunch of stupid cats!"

I laughed as Rachel slammed her locker shut and walked down the hallway, a smile curled on her cheeks. She headed in the opposite direction, towards the cafeteria.

"I'm not alone!" I yelled to her back, watching her preppy blonde hair swish back and forth as she skipped. "I have a boyfriend you know!"

Not even turning around, she flipped me the bird and yelled something I didn't catch.

I laughed as I headed down to the auditorium, preparing myself for my drama meeting. Instead of going to lunch, my drama teacher, Mr. P, had asked me to help him out with a few sets because I was semi-notorious for my painting skills.

A new guy would be nice, I supposed. One could only hope that he'd bring exciting change to Brewer High School, so we would have more comic relief than just Rachel and her bladder problem.

I hummed softly down the corridor, peeking outside the glass doors of the school as I rounded a corner. A storm appeared to be brewing in the sky, dark shades of blue and grey intertwining in the form of rain clouds.

Because it had been sunny a few hours before, I hadn't thought to bring a coat to school. I vaguely wondered if I'd regret that decision later.

<<>>

There's something about the end of the school day that turns your legs to mush, and causes your eyes to droop. I didn't know whether it was the excessive "learning" or the need to participate in activities, but the whole ordeal tended to make me exhausted.

I walked out to the parking lot, immediately beginning to boil in the heat of the sun. My hand reached up to shield my eyes as I looked around the parking lot.

Squinting towards the sky, I wondered how the weather could go from sunny, to stormy, and then back to sunny in a span of a couple hours, but, as my mother would say: "that's Michigan for you - bipolar and shitty."

I turned my gaze back towards the rows of cars. Spotting a familiar red sports vehicle, I immediately regretted not taking my own car to school.

Now I would have to wait a full hour to get a ride from Nate, lingering around the parking lot until his football practice came to an end, only to be the outlet of his anger.

Well life certainly sucks, I thought to myself. Then I began the short trek across the burning, black asphalt.

A cool breeze sliced through the air, taking strands of my hair and making them dance. I lifted the remainder of it off my neck so the colder air would cool me down.

I was just about to tie it all into a bun when something flitted in my side vision. The hair dropped as I whipped my head to the side.

A dot of black sliced through the miserable trees - our school was alongside a forest of slim, towering trees that were looking worse for wear because of the winter that was yet to come. The leaves were placed almost elegantly on the forest floor in varying shades of reddish brown. The trees themselves were bare stalks of bark jutting up from the hard ground.

My eyebrows furrowed at the dark shape shifting through the branches. The forest wasn't big, and certainly wasn't crawling with creatures of any kind, so it didn't make sense that something - or someone - would be prancing around inside it.

The only time the woods were ever used, I remembered, was for a specific biology class where you went out - one day of the year - to stare at bark.

Worst twenty minutes of my entire life.

Seeing nothing through the trees after waiting a few moments, I slowly adverted my eyes. Only to see the dark spot flash in my vision once more.

Even quicker than before, my head snapped in the direction of the forest. There couldn't possibly be an animal out there, could there?

I couldn't help the gooseflesh that littered my arms and neck. I watched for the black.

Subconsciously, I took a small step toward the trees. But the black was - not surprisingly - gone once more.

"What the heck?" I wondered allowed. Although the black seemed irrelevant, something about the situation was striking me as odd. First the ticking of the clock - which I was trying to blame on an overactive imagine - and now this?

I searched for a reasonable explanation. Maybe some kids went behind the trees to do a little "business" involving a few specific items. The idea certainly made logical sense.

However, I still found myself glaring at a particularly thick tree, waiting to see a dash of darkness.

It never came.

"Adira what are you doing?"

My head twisted - almost painfully - back around in the other direction. I stumbled a little on my feet, trying to regain my balance.

"Adira!"

I searched for the voice. A girl was running down the stairs of the school, her blond hair flying behind her.

"Hey Rachel, " I called, embarrassed for being caught glaring at trees. She laughed as she bounded towards me, swinging her book bag.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

I peeked back at the trees. No black. "Nothing."

She looked skeptical. "You need a ride home?"

"Would you?" I asked. Rachel's face brightened, her green eyes shining. "Cause, yeah, I sort of do."

Rachel started to walk towards her car, a blue slug-bug that she liked to call Spock. "Yeah, no problem, " she said, beginning to swing her bag. "Get in bitchacho!"

I followed her to the car, thinking about the black in the forest. It couldn't have been an animal - because of the fact that the forest was empty of them besides squirrels and the like, but also because I couldn't name a single animal that was black. Except maybe a black bear, but those didn't live in southern Michigan.

"Hey Rae, " I said suddenly, and she turned around.

"Yeah?"

I was about to mention the black in the forest, to ask if she had any ideas of what it might have been, but at the last second I decided against it.

Instead I grinned, "Let's go to Starbucks. I'm buying."

She whooped, and I climbed into the car, trying not to think about the ticking, or anything that might have been streaking through the forest in the middle of the day.

I couldn't help, however, when my ears began to strain, waiting to hear a sound that did not belong.

A certain bang, bang, bang that seemed so close, yet so continuously far away.