Between the twisting vines and under the wild canopy lies a beaten path. A giant cave like opening in the edge of the forest leading to a serpentine trail. Ever since I was a child I have wanted to explore it, delve deep into the magical whimsy that existed solely in my imagination. For I have only ever seen it from afar. Mother never let me near, in fear I would get lost. Claiming I would never come back. She would go as far as beating me if I even dared mention my curiosity.

Mother was of a strange sort. After my father died you could find her pacing the homestead burning sage and talking to herself in a concealed frenzy. It came as no surprise when she checked herself into the asylum for reasons she would not divulge. I have not seen her since.

As I sit at the window facing the chasm of trees, I wonder what my mother was so scared of.

Wind roars and begins to make the trees wave rhythmically. The edge of the evergreen gorge seems to be expanding and contrasting in a beckoning dance. The leaves hitting eachother creates a song of rustling that I had never heard before.

Suddenly there is a bright comet piercing the sky and crashing into the woodlands. A color in which I cannot describe engulfs the treeline in a sudden burst. For a moment time stands still as the night sky reflects this incomprehensible hue of mystery.

A trail of smoke now rises from the forest. Whisping and morphing in the wind like a flock of birds.

The path seems to lead right towards it.

Before I realized what I was doing, I had my lantern prepared. I needed to walk the path.

Upon opening the door I was taken aback by a ghastly nauseating unease. The front porch leading towards a thin sea of fog oozing its way across the cold ground. Taking a deep breath to attempt to calm my nerves, I was met with a burning smell I can only describe as sulfur.

Walking felt more like wading as I approached the enigmatic path. The wind whistled around me as I noticed the fog was not at all effected by it. The fog, growing thicker and deeper, was now up to my sternum. Something isn't right.

Clutching the rusted handle of my lantern, I swallowed my fear and flushed my superstition as I pressed forward.

The fog grew more viscous. Closer and closer to the forbidden path, the wading became more like a physical battle.

Whispers from below me drowned out the sounds of leaves flying from the treetops. The ground disappeared and the sight of my legs succumbed to the progressivly opaque white sea.

I couldn't stop myself from continuing my fight towards the mouth-like entrance of overgrowth. As if my very spirit were being dragged on leash.