• Tara Lundrigan

The Spot In The Woods

Until I am back on the road, creating art, I needed to find a way to release my artistic juices.

So, I have started dabbling in painting, and writing. Here is the first short story I wrote:

Let me tell you what happened at my favorite spot in the woods...

There was a stillness in the air that was quite strange, a dreamlike ambiance that is almost hypnotic. The ground was still wet from the rain. I am surrounded by blurred reflections made from street lights bouncing off of the ground - adding a luminescence that is almost prismatic to this concrete jungle. The smell of ozone is in the air, a leftover charge from lightning strikes that scattered across the horizon earlier that day.

During the day this town is bustling, but there is a hollowness here. It feels more genuine when the streets are actually empty, like they are tonight. Slowly, I made my way to the spot, that sits along this tiny creek which runs through a beautiful meadow. I remember feeling joy creep into my heart with the anticipation of real solitude. This is my favorite place on earth.

When I have a rough day and need to escape reality, I like to lay in the grass or sit by the creek bed, and look into the endless night sky. I think about how small I really am, and wonder if life really has any meaning.When I contemplate the vastness of space, I find solace in my insignificance. The way we live life has a way of bringing us down, way down into the depths of melancholy. I have never wanted to be a part of this rat race. I have always questioned our bleak existence...

As I turn on East Park Avenue, the atmosphere around me is electrifying - it feels as though all my senses have ignited. The air here is so clean because of the forests that surround this town. The scent of fresh cut grass lingers, stuck to the buildings like an adhesive. The wind brings the smell of the ocean, which fills my nostrils and lines the back of my throat with the taste of salt. Crossing the street, I look left, look right. It really is a quiet night tonight, just the way I like it.

At the end of this street is the entrance to the National Park, where the spot resides. East Park Avenue is probably one of my favorite spots in town. It is lined with cute houses and boutique shops. Cheery Blossom and Magnolia trees frame the sidewalks, and in the spring when it's windy their white and pink flowers rain down on you.

Out of no where a feeling of unease sweeps over me. I stopped in my tracks. Was I being watched? Followed? Slowly, I turn my head and look behind me. No one. Weird. A shiver runs through my body, creating a layer of goosebumps all over me. I take out a smoke and spark it, inhale deeply, let the delicious grey smoke fill my lungs and calm me down. What was that? Most of the shops are closed, and there really is no one around me. Yet, I can not shake the feeling that someone is watching me.

I hear whispers in the wind. "He knows you're coming." -- What the fuck was that? Did I actually hear that? One step at a time, I forced my feet to start moving again. Did I actually hear that? I cross the street, and enter the park - I walk into this mystifying blanket of green.

There are too many types of trees to list, all covered with their own variation of moss, fungi, and ferns. I exhale my cancer, and inhale the cleanest air on earth. The spot is at a clearing by the river, and is about 50 meters from here. Luckily there was a full moon allowing me to navigate without any added light. An unusual fog is hanging around the trees and creek that creates a very eerie atmosphere.

Finally, I make it to the spot, where a group of rocks a couple of feet from the creek form a little seat for me. A taller rock, slightly elevated from all of the others makes a perfect rest for my back so I don't have to lay completely flat on the ground. It is as if Mother Nature intended someone to sit right here.

Time to spark up another smoke. Inhale, exhale, repeat. Reflect. When am I ever not thinking? Dreaming? Over analyzing every thing, every look, every word. I lost track of time. As I listen to the sound of the water rushing over the rocks that line the creek, the noise starts to change. It's almost like a vibration. A humming. I feel it. The vibration. The noise starts to hypnotize me and put me in a weird haze. What time is it? I am confused...

I am no longer sitting in that perfect little seat at the creek.

I am standing at the tree line, looking into the depths of the forest.

The moonlight allows me to see layers of shadows created by the trees. Vertical lines of black and grey shooting into the night sky fill my peripherals. About 10 meters in front of me there is what I can only describe as a portal? It is a forever changing shape, but stays somewhat circular. It looks liquid. It looks metal. It is electricity. It is everything. Pastel hues of green and blue illuminate the trees around it. Is that fucking glitter floating around in the air? Purple lightning bugs? A trail of glowing mushrooms almost make a direct path into this unearthly thing! I can not tell you how long I stood there, staring at this moving, breathing thing. It was beautiful, but it felt wrong. Every inch of my body wanted to head directly into it, and every cell in my brain was screaming "NO. DON'T." I started to cry. I felt like I was being forced to make the biggest decision of my life. I started to take a step towards the ball, when I noticed something move.

I wasn't alone. Something was here and had been for a while...

How long was I here? How did I not notice him? I had never felt so disoriented in my life. About two feet to my right was a 7 foot tall thing with horns. No, they were antlers. It had massive antlers. They twist and turn, high into the tree branches. Connected to the branches? A monster. A God? The Devil. It was standing right next to me. His body was facing the portal, with his head turned to me. It wasn't clothed, but it almost felt like this thing was wearing a cloak. Was it a thing, or a man? It had a human-like body, but it was also forever changing...like the ball of light. Except this thing was devoid of all light. Blacker than black. This was where light went to die. A flowing shadow -- living smoke. This thing had almost no defining features, except hands with 2 inch claws and the pearliest, sharpest teeth you've ever seen.

It smiled at me and said "Here is The Gate. Make your choice."

I have never ran so fucking fast in my life, and haven't been able to sleep in weeks.

Recent Posts

See All

Yellow House

Wandering through these soulless hallways - I feel like a ghost, searching endlessly. Empty, void, suffocating, the only sound - the beat of an aching heart, creaks in the decaying floor boards vibrat

© 2014 - present - Tara Lundrigan Photography + Design