Every time I walk past I feel it. The forest. It wants me. It values my curiosity and has befriended my spirit. Once, in a flash, I jumped into the woods and I ran. I ducked and hit out at inquisitive branches and drooping leaves. Yes they were eager and I know they were proud to feel my presence, but I was a stranger to them and they to me.
I heard voices in my head saying, “You did it noble warrior. You made it.”
The realisation of what I had left behind made me stop. The breeze that had been caressing my neck flew back and settled into a spiders webbed burrow. There was a minute that I stood there, my heart wavering. Nature waited for me to decide. Would I keep walking and follow the voice within? Yelling for me to step forward, keep going, or would I walk back through the tree's and return back to the path I've always known?
I turned around, ignoring the sigh in my gut. The screech of a bird high above forced me to collapse and protect my face with my hands. The breeze fled the burrow sobbing. A tremble stole my features when I felt it brush past. Silly. For a second I nearly let myself cry.
Retracing my steps back I wanted to apologise to the forest, but I didn't. I was lured in by the smell of liquor. I stumbled back onto the street. My tongue licking the air for a taste.
“Where's my roses?”
I then saw them. Five chunky ass women all sitting huddled together at a vandalised bus stop. They offer me a night of whatever I want if I promise to buy them breakfast in the morning. Maybe another time I will be brave enough to follow the forests path, but for now I'll take home Mary. She has scars running up her arms and I know she feels the dark like I do.