Glumrest Hills

1. Glumrest Hills

The lights blink when the plane shudders. Horror gasps and high-pitched squeals fill the narrow cabin as the airplane penetrates a thick, dark cloud, but all I do is freeze.

It reminds me of the wooden roller coaster I rode in the amusement park back in my childhood, but this one is far from amusing. My hands clutch the edge of my seat, and my eyes stare blankly at the cabin ceiling. I wait religiously until the turbulence ends or the oxygen masks jump out of the compartments above our heads. It will be one or the other.

This is the worst flight I've ever been on in my twenty-six years of existence. Why am I here again? Right. It's because of the letter.

"Bless the Lord!"

"Fucking hell, that was scary."

"I'm not taking a small plane ever again."

Whisper shouts begin to float across the cabin as the plane starts to run steadily again. No oxygen masks are needed, thank goodness. I let out a breath of relief; a breath I probably held during the entire blood-curdling moment.

Thinking back, I wonder what is worse than going through petrifying turbulence. Narrowly missing a speeding truck driven by a drunk driver? Getting fired from your job when you're drowning in a pile of debt? Or being attacked in the dark alley when you walk alone in the middle of the night?

I have yet to experience the last one to know the answer, which is highly unlikely to happen. I wasn't born a genius, but I know better than walking in the dark alley at night. Growing up in an area in New Jersey where I'm not allowed to talk with our neighbors, I've learned that the world is not a safe place.

"Please keep the window open. We're about to land." The stewardess reminds us as she stands at the end of the cabin aisle. She then glares at the old man in front of me, who tried to pull down his window shade when she wasn't looking.

He grumbles and pushes it up again. "What does it matter? We're not the one who drives this damn plane. Why do we need to see what is out there? This is ridiculous," he mumbles under his breath, but his voice is loud enough for me to hear.

I glance down to have a peek through the window, knowing that we're closer to the ground now. It's surprisingly pleasant to see how green everything is despite the gloomy shade caused by the absence of sunlight. I still can't make out the town we're about to land from this distance, but I don't miss the dark, steep mountain sprawling around the forest outskirts like a protective fortress. It's still better compared to the monotonous brown landscape crammed with buildings and skyscrapers, the place I live in, though the terrain isn't the reason I'm on this horrendous plane right now.

As the airplane's altitude decreases every second, we fly in a circle over the forest, probably waiting for the signal until we're allowed to land. Taking off never has an effect on me, but going down does. It feels as if my stomach goes up to my neck; it's unsettling. I distract myself by focusing on the view below, watching the green forest slowly show elements of its structure: the tall trees, the narrow roads, and the lakes. When we finally fly over the town, a gigantic whiteboard with red writing welcomes us.

Glumrest Hills.

I didn't know this place existed until last month.

Worries shoot up to the surface of my thoughts once we land. This is the first time I have traveled alone to a new place I have never been to before, and I would be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. I could have ignored the invitation, pretending I never received it, and moved on with my life. Yet here I am.

The plan was Daryl would go with me, but I canceled our flights and booked the new one for myself three days earlier. I'm not traveling with him, not after discovering his shenanigans with my best friend. He must be wondering where I am now, but I don't care. That man can go to hell now. My best friend, too.