Even though I’ve been in this area billions of times, I still find the woods fascinating. I love the smells, the sights, the somber atmosphere, the lack of people around, the abundance of animals.

It’s a pretty nice day out. The sun is shining and there are puffy white clouds in the baby blue sky. I see trails from airplanes and I can hear a riding lawnmower. It’s September, and the air is starting to catch a chill. It will be fall soon, and the colors of the leaves in Upstate New York will become an unmatched beauty. I walk through my favorite part of this trail, across the river and up a steep hill that forks into either a path less maintained, or a popular trail with markers and a map posted up. Guess which one I took?

I walk down the path that barely has a clearing and step through loads of mud. I’ve only come this way once before, with an ex, and I’m now wondering why I never go this way. Its quite a lovely trail, full of natural overgrowth and buzzing with sounds, blooming with wild flowers and foliage. I see a painted turtle and a few interesting looking mushrooms that are probably poisonous.

I walk for about 10 minutes on this loop and suddenly, the nice day I was previously experiencing turns darker. The lovely puffy white clouds from before have formed into very large, dark black masses above me. The sun is gone, and the wind is picking up fast. Large rain droplets fall and get whipped through the wind, which begins howling as it cuts through the trees. I decide to keep walking, but I’m feeling sketched out. I ignored my bad gut feeling.

I walk up a bit further and I try to gauge where in the woods I am. These trees look like a different species that I’ve never seen. I’m lost. And now it’s COLD cold. Where are the pines and maples I know? The half dead blackberry bushes, the fallen crab apples? The woods feel angry. The clouds are scary. One in particular, looks like pure blackness. Is it following me? Is it coming down lower? No way, but I’m not ignoring my gut and internal alarm bells anymore and I’m getting the f*ck out of here.

I don’t know why, but I’m running now, in whatever the hell direction this, and in a frantic panic. I’m stumbling over branches, logs, and small bushes. I feel useless as I can barely run in this mud. After a while, I finally exit the woods, and get out of the parameters of the storm. I enter a large sunny field with tall grasses. There are a few large maple trees around and I feel better seeing familiarity.

I slow to a slightly fast walk and my heart-rate calms down. I look back, and all around me, and I don’t see anything weird. I hear church bells, very loudly. What time is it? I’m now walking on crunchy leaves, and I’m thinking of all the pumpkin-spice fall white girl things I’m going to do.

The fleeting thoughts of fall leave my brain and I stop, and swear my heart stopped too. Instinctively, I look up, and I see a huge black cloud coming down towards me. The church bells are coming from it. Running wasn’t even an option, I’m frozen in place. I stare in disbelief into the darkest color of black I’ve ever seen as it surrounds and swallows me.

I feel myself lift from the ground. For a second, I admire how my blood spatter becomes a beautifully curated display of artwork painted upon the freshly fallen yellow leaves beneath me.