Before Trent succumbed to what would be a horrible death, he locked his eyes onto a tree in the distance, finding that in his wobbly vision, it seemed to be getting closer with each second. The longer he looked, he realized the tree looked much more like a person, and the monster turned to look and run towards this person. The figure and the monster appeared to be doing something, but Trent could not understand much of what was going on in his wavering vision and frankly did not care.

I’ve got a chance, now’s my chance to get the hell out of here.

Trent looked away from them and tried to stand up so he could run off while the creature was distracted, but he ended up almost falling again and was forced to use the tree to bring himself back onto the ground. His heartbeat still throbbed noisily in his ears, though it seemed that it may have slowed down just an ounce. Slowly his vision became less blurred, but his breaths were still too shallow for him to escape safely. Trent looked to the figure and the monster realizing-

Cahoon. That’s Cahoon. But, he’s not… real right?

Cahoon looked as if he was scolding the monster in the same manner one would reprimand a misbehaving dog. Once the creature yielded, it declumped itself into a low-hanging fog again, and its misty form floated off deep into the woods. Cahoon then turned towards Trent, both of them staring at each other in silence for a moment.

Is this real? A fancily dressed man I’ve only seen in a dream just saved my life?

“You’re lost, aren’t you?” Cahoon asked in his overly sweet and musical voice. Trent nodded slowly, feeling another sharp pang in his chest, and let out another, final cough. This isn’t real.

“You look like you’re about to pass out. Let me walk you back to the cabin,” Cahoon lyrically said, offering Trent his hand with a smile on his face. I can’t- is this really happening? Trent was reluctant to reach his hand toward’s Cahoon’s due to his distrust of Cahoon’s existence, but he ended up grabbing his hand as hard as he could. Once Trent grabbed on, Cahoon lifted Trent so that he could stand and pulled him a bit close, preventing Trent from falling back into the snow.

“There you go sport, back on your feet again.”

His arm is so cold. Is he even alive? Cahoon’s musical voice was the last thing that preceded the long silence present around them.Trent, uncomfortable and utterly fatigued, chose not to speak to Cahoon and instead mutely nodded at him to indicate that he was ready to walk. They began to walk together, Trent holding tightly onto Cahoon’s arm. Trent could hardly think, as he was extremely focused on not collapsing into Cahoon while forcing his exhausted legs to keep moving.

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They continued on in odd silence through the snowy woods for what felt like hours, until they eventually reached a change in elevation. Trent saw the cabin at the top of the hill and nearly ran towards it out of joy. Oh my god, I’m not going to die out here. Trent turned to his side, to thank Cahoon for accompanying him this far, when he realized there was no one was standing next to him.

Where’d he go?

Cold wind was the only thing Trent could feel pushing on him as he stood there, alone, in stunned silence. There were no footsteps by his side at all, no matter how far he looked back at his tracks. He chewed his nail for a moment, trying to rationalize the situation.

But where would he have gone? Or was he just something I imagined?

It seemed Trent had walked all by himself back to the cabin, somehow. Maybe I am going insane out here. Trent cautiously walked back to the front cabin, confused and exhausted. I think tomorrow I’ll stay in. Trent headed inside, unlocking the door on his way in.

After a short shower and a very light dinner, Trent went to go check the office. Nothing had been moved or touched, to his relief, so he left the room and continued his routine of making sure everything was right in the cabin. It’s a good thing my fever went down earlier, since I checked before I showered. Trent then checked the living room, finding that the dining table was clean, and his jacket was neatly hanging on the side of the couch. The kitchen was tidy and clean as well. As it should be. Trent finally went to the bedroom and layed down, finding it impossible to sleep. His mind was elsewhere.

Sharon. I remember when I saw your hair at the grocery store. It could have been anyone with bright blue hair, but it was you. High school had been so long ago, or at least that’s how it felt, and it seemed you had healed from my rejection. Trent slowly curled himself up under the blankets, feeling a bit dejected. After all, that event was one of the first things you mentioned to me when we ran into each other there. We caught up in the baking aisle, you gave me your number and I gave you mine, and then you told me you had a special project you were working on. Something big. You told me to meet you at a certain address, on the other side of the state last summer and refused to answer most of my questions. And then, I came here for the first time. Trent’s face now was grave and forlorn as he stared into the empty space next to him. Mom and Dad were still both alive then too. God, everything is just happening so fast. Was I supposed to know about how terrible the second time would be? Trent suddenly found powerful fatigue pressing on his eyelids, shutting off his thoughts, and eventually, he closed his eyes.