Radio Waves of the Macabre [On Hiatus]

Chapter 25 - Uninvited Guests (Part 1)

From the moment she had trekked into the brush and under the cover of the trees, flitting through the dappled afternoon light, Tess had felt an underlying shift in her reality. There was the familiar aggrandizement of the imagination as the woods thickened into an Amazonian jungle and the familiar-trampled paths took on the mystery of long lost trails to the famed El Dorado, and yet there was also something more; beneath it all, a scratch on the lens tainted the view through her youthfully naive, rose-tinted glasses.

Although she could not entirely define the cause of her unease, it enveloped her like a twisted, tangle of blanket, clinging to her no matter how much she tried to shake it. As she delved deeper and deeper into those woods, the hairs on her neck rose as her flesh goosepimpled; goosepimpled as it had months prior on the afternoon that Ricky went missing. That connection was not lost on Tess, and as those bumps formed and her hairs rose, she hastened her steps, glancing back over her shoulder as she did.

The woods stretched out behind her, empty of anything other than the usual covering of leaves and twigs and the chattering of chipmunks; though even that latter seemed in spare supply, the forest abnormally quiet. Despite the evidence to the contrary, Tess couldn't buck the feeling that she was being watched.

She quickened her pace, yet even so, the feeling persisted, never slackening. It bore down upon her with great force, and she could almost swear that the hot whisper of a stranger's breathe played against the back of her neck, carrying with it the pungent smell of rot. She swatted at it, slapping against her spine as if batting away a mosquito, but as she did the breathe teased across her fingers.

She did not place a hand upon her neck again. Instead, she broke into a run, always aware of that something just out of sight. It never abated.

As such, when at last her treehouse came into view, it came as a great relief - and not just because of the sense of security that it offered her, but also because of the very real lessening of that gaze. The smell and the tickle of that breath upon her vanished, and at least for a moment a true peace descended upon her.

Uncle Eddie had helped her build the treehouse two years prior, the same summer that the dead worm had baked on the rocks of the jetty. Her mother never would have allowed such a thing to be erected in their yard, her always being so cautious to guard Tess against any potential harm. She wouldn't even let Tess visit a friend's house if they had a trampoline, afraid she'd break her neck - whether it had a safety net or not. Her mom never would have let her have a treehouse. Even if she hadn't been so protective, there was no way Oma Flora would have approved, reminding Tess that treehouses were unladylike.