Sketchbook of a Wayward Seer: Chapter 21
DGV
“We’re off to do some stupid shit, stupid shit, stupid shit. Off to do some stupid shit, let’s fuck around and find out.”
I sang in time to the clicking of my blinker as I sat at the light, waiting a full minute for all of zero cars to pass.
“In the misty and abandoned woods, ‘bandoned woods, ‘bandoned woods.” I stayed with the tune of the getting ready song my mom used to sing when I was little. “The misty and abandoned woods, just like a horror movie.”
Caleb had messaged me the address of where we should all meet. So, when Jason dropped me off at my truck—Paige had to stay for party clean up and wouldn’t let me help even though I’d basically begged since searching for plastic cups sounded like a great way to cling to the wonderfully low stakes human drama of Mia and Carter shouting at each other, while both sobbing of course, about something to do with last year’s Widow’s Fete and how each was undeniably at fault for…it either had to do with someone’s ass getting flashed on stage or someone dressing flashy to catch some ass—all I had to do was tap for directions.
I didn’t take the time to look up maps or images of where exactly I was going. Why waste anxiety worrying about the creepy level of the abandoned woods where you’re going to do some really dumb, fucked up shit?
Save that palm sweat for when you actually turn off the pavement and onto a winding dirt road at 1:50 in the morning.
“I hope that you don’t break your mind, break your mind, break your mind. Hope that you don’t break your mind. You’re fucking stupid, Ella.”
Fresh-ish tire tracks carved through the rutty road that jostled the truck hard enough to bounce me in my seat.
Picturing Violet getting tossed around like a kindergartener riding in the back of the bus soothed the extra thrum of panic the ass-shaking ride wrapped around my lungs.
The GPS led me past a cluster of three little cabins, then farther north, cutting toward Willow Creek.
“You are so fucking screwed right now, screwed right now, screwed right now. You’re so fucking screwed right now. Welcome to self-torture.”
The problem was I didn’t have a scrap of honest encouragement to feed myself.
You know what you’re doing.
Nope, not really.
You’ve done this before.
And it didn’t go well.
You’ve survived this before.
Barely.
Your parents would’ve wanted you to help.
Not like this.
What do you have to lose?
My fucking mind!
“Fuck!” I slammed my fist against the steering wheel and jammed on the brakes.
The truck lurched to a stop, my headlights giving brilliantly ominous lighting to the mist drifting over the deserted road. Twenty feet ahead of me, the path curved. The thick woods blocked everything ahead from view.
Tapping my fingers on the steering wheel, I measured the beats of my breathing, willing the mist to twist and grow, to surge toward the truck and drag me into a vision.
Nothing.
“Just show me where she is,” I whispered to the nothing. “Don’t make me do this. Just show me, okay?”
The mist stayed thin and corporeal.
“Please.”
I let myself wait for two minutes before easing my foot off the brakes and continuing down the road.
Anxiety-fueled tears pressed on the back of my throat.
“It’s the right thing, Ella.” I shook out my shoulders. “She’s a wolf. You’re a sybil. This is how it goes.”
The road took a sharp curve, hiding the bridge over the narrow stream until I’d almost driven onto it.
I stomped on the brakes, harder this time. The truck’s jolt slammed my heart up into my throat as a shadow shifted on the far side of the stream.