Ethereal

Chapter two

Chapter two:

Mikael sat there, singing random lines from an Opeth song he vaguely remembered with a voice full of inebriation. "When can I take you from this place.. When is the word but a sigh.. When is death our lone beholder.. When would we walk the final steps.. When can we scream instead of whisper.. When is the new beginning?" he could relate so much to this madrigal, he thought as he felt the bitterness of a tear being shed on his lightly black bearded cheek. He was desperate, he knew that very well. He was in desperate need of an inspiration. Something to look up to, to wait for with anticipation. He always felt his life to be a monotonous cycle of  despair.

He thought about his parents, and their pathetic trials to talk to him into going to a psychiatrist. "You haven't been yourself lately, Mikael, maybe you should talk to someone, maybe you should get some help, we're concerned about you, dear, we only want your best interest. We love you." they had said.

He thought about his dead girlfriend whom he planned his future with, about the way she looked at him as her soul escaped her body in the hospital bed as she clung to his hands. Silly it was, how a person's aliveness can be equivalent to simple lines on an electrocardiogram. Maybe it wasn't just her soul escaping that day, maybe it was his too. It's been nine months now, and the emptiness hasn't left him.

His parents were right, everyone on college campus was right too. He wasn't himself lately, the thought floated through his mind again and again.

He searched through his black denim jeans' pockets and his oxford blue sweatshirt for the Swiss knife his mother had given him, earlier that day "Just in case." she had said. He uncovered the blade and for some seconds, he stared at the dim reflection of his wet, sad, greenish eyes on it. The image was received  blurry to his high brain, it seemed as if the earth was swaying and it was making him sick.

He had to end his misery and numbness. If he would stay, he wouldn't be capable of any good to anyone or anything. He had to end it, to do his parents and the world a favour, he thought hopelessly and in tears.

And just as he was about to slit his wrist with the knife.. A sound, very near to where he was sitting, through the bushes alerted him. It was the sound of someone, or maybe something rushing through the trees. It wasn't just the sound of the leaves being pushed aside that had startled him, made him drop the Swiss knife, that sound came along with a different sound, a sound he has never heard before. It was a sound of some creature. He thought it must have been some bird of a rare specie. But then he realized no bird could ever be capable of violently struggling against the trees the way the sound has elaborated.

The sound was heard again.

He slowly got up, in a dizzy manner. "Who's there?" he cried. The sound was getting near him.

"Who are you?" he cried but again, without an answer.

The sound has disappeared, he waited a few moments. Then, he was positive that nothing was really there. "It must've been the weed fucking up my hearing." he sighed with relief.

He was about to turn to the lake again slowly, as he turned his back to the trees, the sound came back more violent and louder than before but most important, near.

Some hands held a grip on his shoulders very tightly all of a sudden. His first reaction, of course, was shout out loud. "What the fuck! Leave me alone you sick creep!" he struggled fiercely. He looked over his shoulder, but there was nothing. He was being pulled into the trees by a force so strong that he was left screaming and shouting out for help. "Help! Somebody help me!" he shouted but with no use. There was absolutely no one in the woods at this hour. Non of his struggles did him any good either, he was being dragged with no remorse into the darkness of the forest. He didn't even know what was he against, the thought terrified him.

All of a sudden he was tossed on the hard ground on his back and the mysterious tight grip was gone. He was hardly breathing, drowning in sweat, he could feel his own heartbeats violent, alert, his whole body was shaking with adrenaline rush. He looked around, tried to make out where he was, but he has never seen this part of the woods before.

He slowly got up and on guard, turned a three-sixty degrees. He was surrounded by oaks, but it was though, that those oaks were way much older than the ones he had seen back where he was. Where was he anyway? That he didn't know.