The fragrance of scotch pine and blue ель is pungent in the air, amplified by the heat of late June. или so Ты think it is June. This place feels oddly void of time. Ты open your eyes to see a sun hazed over by stratus clouds. From all angles Ты spy familiar wooden structures.
Ты are back.

Ты sit up with your legs tucked under your bottom and bask in the estival air and all of the scents that waft within it. Ты furrow your brows, thinking that it is not as clean as before. Even so, the place hums with earthy energy. A stronger gust of wind picks up the hem of your рубашка and flutters your hair. Ты notice for the first time, the string of beads and feathers woven through strands of it.

When Ты check for your rope bracelet Ты notice a faint fir-green glow on your palm. It is a круг with a shaded dot in the center and another smaller shaded dot that lies out side of the круг and to the right. There is a third hollow dot at the bottom.
The sigil of Mother Earth.

Ты can feel that earthy energy buzzing in your hand. Behind you, at the edge of the forest is an elf, in her arms she carries a prismic bouquet of Цветы with pastel petals strewn of thin diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, and amethysts.
She sets them down beneath a cypress.
Ты sense a vacancy in her soul.
She has Остаться в живых someone and the cypress guards their soul.

Ты take a deep breath, but it is smothered and Ты find yourself hunched over with coughs. The elf woman moves to catch you.
The grating and groaning in the distance is louder and when Ты look up again Ты notice the smoke hangs thicker in the air.
Like the Цветы Ты wilt back over.

***

Your parents find Ты staring at the forest’s corpse. Ты are slumped over and alarmingly cold, but somehow Ты don’t feel the chill. Ты squint hard, trying to remember how Ты got here to this bleak place. You’re shivering and your parents have to help Ты to your feet. Ты are dazed.
Ты think that Ты may have fainted.
Ты spend the Далее день in a doctor’s office, where Ты are diagnosed with the common cold. Leave it to Ты to get sick in the summer.

Ты fill your sick days in your room, trying to paint the symbol Ты saw on your palm. But no matter how hard Ты try, how many times Ты blend the colors, Ты can’t seem to capture the right shade of green. Ты never were much of an artist anyways. So Ты tear the sheet out of your notebook and fetch your journal. Ты try instead to jot down your journey to the Weeping Forest. The name isn’t your best creation, but it will work for the time begin. Like the Название Ты have made for the far off land Ты keep visiting, your recount of it, isn’t up to par with your past works. Ты wonder how it is that your younger self seemed to have produced еще creative and colorful works than the Ты in the now. This time instead of tossing your journal to the side in frustration, Ты fight through it, scrawling words on the paper. In the end Ты have a very messy story that seems all too forced.
Ты suppose that such is better than no story at all.
At least Ты wrote something again.

Ты are about to give it another shot, but your phone buzzes and Ты decide that you’re due for a break anyhow. Ты grab your mug of honey-laced чай and pick up. Juniper asks if you’d like to Присоединиться she and Alexi for a night of clubbing. Under normal circumstances Ты might have сказал(-а) yes but tonight Ты have to explain that you’re still feeling ill and rather drowsy from the medicine Ты took a few hours ago. Ты can hear the disappointment in Juniper’s voice as she says, “okay.” She wishes Ты a quick recovery and hangs up, probably to pretty herself up. Juniper always was crafty with a makeup brush. Ты sip your чай and try to get some sleep.

The dryad-imp tries coaxing Ты into the forest again. But this time Ты don’t go, Ты don’t have the energy for another nighttime adventure. As a child Ты might have slipped out runny nose или not, but Ты are еще sensible than that now, Ты can traipse the forest all Ты want after Ты get better.

***

July comes in a steamy breath. There is a hot оранжевый sort of morning haze as the sun continues to creep its way up the horizon. Your window is open as per usual so Ты can hear a loud chorus of cicadas. The branch of the дерево closest to your house rasps on your window. A blue winged чирок calls out in the distance to be answered by a chikadee. Ты go to your windowsill and take in the sounds of the dawn. In a few hours your house will be abuzz with people for your family’s annual fourth of July barbeque.

Ты fix yourself a cup of coffee and slip outside. Dew still glimmers in the трава like translucent beads. Strands cling to your feet as Ты walk across the lawn. A few grasshoppers leap over one another, one nearly lands on your knee. The air smells fresh with a tang of rye. Sunlight glints off of handmade, foil pinwheels as they twirl like miniature windmills. Ты follow a path of flat stones that your father had laid down back when the house was first built. Since then Ты and your mother took to lining it with gazing globes in Цвета all over spectrum. Your Избранное is the blue one that displays in the purple of a lolite crystal when in certain light. Directly in front of that is the other gazing globe Ты like to admire. The one of inky indigo with swirls of green, aqua, and pink. The indigo is dotted with sparkles—it reminds Ты of a Finnish sky graced by the northern lights. The sound of the cicadas grows louder as Ты get closer to the forest.

Your father and siblings Присоединиться Ты outside to set up tables and umbrellas while your mother gets a head start on the hotdogs and burgers. She always has been better on the grill. Ты decide to do your part and slice up some watermelons and cantaloupes and break the beverages out. Just as Ты finish arranging the fruits Ты hear the doorbell ring. Ты know that it is the neighbors, the Chung family always seems to arrive before everyone else. Ты offer them cans of sodas and lead them to the patio. Your mother’s cheerful greeting is only outshined by the family dog’s. Wagging her tail, she dashes about the yard with no real purpose.

The party is in full свинг, качели by midafternoon, the scent of the grill overpowering all other odors. Ricky from down the block, unloads an artillery of fireworks. The kind of fireworks Ты aren’t positive are legal, but it’s all in good fun so Ты don’t mind, though Ты plan on sticking to sparklers. Sipping on a carton of juice, Ты recline in your lawn chair and watch the children jump on your trampoline. Katie does a flip to the amazement of Louisiana-Piper while her brother is off trying to convince Ricky to let him light one of the fireworks. He won’t be swayed and offers the child a harmless smoke bomb instead.


A buck trots out of the forest, the sun beams between its majestic antlers. It is the largest buck Ты have ever seen, and Ты have seen hundreds of them in your lifetime. Ты squint, swearing that its мех is gold. Real, genuine gold. No one else seems to notice it.
This is your cue to leave.

Of course, Ты plan on reuniting with your guests for the firework display, but right now, the forest calls. Ты follow the deer as he guides Ты through the forest, his hooves clomping along the trail. Ты half expect to see faery children riding on the dragonflies that zip about. Instead Ты spy the white fluffy body of the wooly alder aphid. The blue fuzz on its head makes it look like a blue haired fairy in a feathery gown. No wonder Ты thought that faeries existed as a child. So much light floods through the trees that the forest seems to be washed in gold. The rays send shimmers over the buck’s fur. Ты push through thickets, trying to avoid as many burs as Ты can, but one of them may have gotten caught in your hair. Ты come to the clearing where the ground is overflowing with the bellflower and lavender. Mixed in with them is a generous sprinkle of summersweet and a few evergreen hued hosta plants with snails tucked into their leaves. Somewhere in the background, over the noise of your family barbecue, Ты hear the gurgle and churn of a creek. It is strange though, in all your years in these woods, Ты have yet to come across the source. Your parents have never heard it and after turning ten, your siblings ceased to hear it. Ты have taken to calling it the spirit pool. The buck strolls into a ring of toadstools, he pauses in the center and stares at you. His gaze is somehow ancient, foreign wise. He sits down before he dips his majestic head and lets Ты stroke him between the antlers. For a long time Ты sit with him, thinking that this may be the most magical thing Ты have experienced. Leaning against his belly, Ты drink in the woodland sounds of summer. Ты pull out your journal and Ты start to write; the flow is steady and poetic.

The sound of a firework startles your companion away, Ты decide that Ты better rejoin your family anyhow. Even without following the trail Ты entered with, Ты can tell Ты are close by the smell of barbecue sauce and кукуруза on the cob. Ты smile, thinking that Ты ought to snag a cob before Chester can gobble it all down. Ты exit the forest full of burs and small leaves. Cousin Riley approaches Ты and asks Ты to invite her Далее time Ты meander through the woods. She hands Ты a sparkler and introduces Ты to her boyfriend, Telo. She met him on a trip to California and brought him back as a souvenir. Ты follow the pair to their picnic blanket and have a seat. The sky is going deep blue and a whirlwind of fireflies dance over your picnic table, around your gazing globes, and fly up from your birdbath. Ты look at the jars Ты and your father have worked so hard to put up and decide that it has paid off, their light attracts moths and firefly alike. Very charming, Ты think to yourself. Ты see Louisiana-Piper and Katie in an intense competition with her brother and his friend to see who can catch the most of the lightning bugs. So far Parker, being the taller of the two, is winning. It doesn’t help that she is eating a red, white, and blue popsicle at the same time. Your attention is brought to the Chungs’ game of frisbee when the disk lands in your lap. Xiùlán quickly apologizes for her younger sister’s poor aim. Ты laugh it off and toss the disk back, they invite Ты to Присоединиться them. There’s no harm in doing so, so until the first firework pops off, Ты and Xiùlán make for a pretty decent team.
The display is dazzling, a sparkling rain of golds, greens, and purples, sometimes reds. Your Избранное fireworks are the ones that droop like twinkling willow sticks. Bursts and bangs echo above the hills and treetops. Ricky knows exactly how to put on a show, he only misfires once, knocking the birdbath over. Your mother picks it up with a grumble as the crowd whoops and laughs (Parker gasps out an, “oooo, you’re in trouble”) and the Показать goes on. One of the fireworks explodes in the shape of a rose. Ricky lights up the next.
And in the its red flash, Ты can see the buck standing at the edge of the forest.

***

Work is extra dull the morning after. In comparison to all of that excitement, how can it be anything but? Ты would much rather be plucking thistles in the park или collecting berries in the forest. Ты can’t believe that Ты forgot to do it last night! Instead, Ты settle for doodling a picture of them on receipt paper until your supervisor sternly tells Ты to stop slacking. Ты tuck the sketch into your pocket and make a mental note to shade them in red when Ты get home.

As Ты scrub down a few tables Обои of the forest and the buck flicker vividly back to Ты and for the first time in a long time, Ты daydream. Ты fill that scenic path with gnomes and griffins, giants, and boggarts. The trees become packed with phoenix, sprites and brownies. Ты don’t even know if brownies go in trees! But it doesn’t matter, it is your daydream. Ты decide to get еще creative and imagine a few phoenix with brilliant blue огонь instead of orange.
It feels amazing to have imagination back on your side, helping Ты through the mundane things.

Instead of calling your mother to pick Ты up—your car has been in the Магазин for a little over a week now—you decide to walk home. The forecast is clear and is supposed to stay that way until Далее Thursday and soft puffs of wind alleviate the early July heat. Ты wave to your coworker, Alicia, wishing her luck at волейбол tryouts, and make your way out. Ты stop at Maree’s and get a vanilla-chocolate swirl with extra sprinkles. Ты listen to snippets of conversation ranging from small talk of the weather to friendly debates over which anticipated superhero movie is going to be the best. Your quaint little town is alive; the locals are joyful and the tourists are bustling. Ты point a group of them to your Избранное local краб shack. Ты catch a whiff of the ocean, accented by the cry of a razorbill. Ты can go home, but instead Ты elect to visit the oceanside. Ты send a quick text to let your mother know.

The пляж, пляжный is packed this time of год but Ты go regardless. Ты spy the wooden planks that make up the stairs leading down to the beach. Tall marram трава pushes under the rope and tickles your skin as Ты brush by it. When the stairs come to an end, Ты step onto soft tan sand that sifts between your feet, it gets uncomfortably between your toes. As Ты walk further down to where the sun beams brightest, the sand grows hotter and hotter until Ты break into a sprint to reach the water for relief. The same breeze that tousles the marram трава tugs the waves вперед so that they slap against a Стена of rocks near the west end of the beach. Ты stoop down to pick up a seashell but a small child runs past and knocks it away. Ты feel a twinge of annoyance but hold your tongue. The child comes to sit, giggling, before a large sandcastle that he seems very proud of. This inspires Ты to saunter towards the rockier west end of the beach, where the crowd thins. It is at this part of the пляж, пляжный where the evergreens tower and most of the пляж, пляжный debris—waterlogged branches, twigs, leaves, empty water bottles, and fishing lines among other things—gather. For this the swimmers avoid it, but the campers and picnickers adore it. еще than once you’ve seen groups of teens gathered around bonfires atop the miniature cliff that overlooks this part of the beach. And too many times, you’ve seen them chuck Болталка утиль, барахло, мусор over the ledge to see how far they could get it, which accounts for much of the litter clustering within the natural debris. The fourth has left its own scarring on the beach; remnants of bottle rockets, roman candles, and Saturn missals flake the sand as well as a few пиво cans and empty chip bags.

Ты find yourself a comfy looking log and take a seat. Ты don’t hold it for long, upon a fairy tern. Ты squint thinking how it cannot be. Fairy крачка aren’t native to these parts.
It twitters about expectedly.
So Ты follow it.
Follow it through the woods until Ты see a familiar shimmer in the air. It darts towards the spot and disappears.

Ты walk towards the portal.