The Second Visit and The Stranger
I return from the forest that evening, exhausted. Dinner is quiet again—awkward silence filling the room like always. Nobody says a word, not even me. My parents sit across the table, avoiding eye contact. It’s not disappointment in their eyes, though. It’s something worse—sympathy. Like they’re too afraid to ask what’s wrong. Maybe they already know I wouldn’t have an answer.
After finishing the meal in silence, I retreat to my room. My thoughts, however, stay tangled in the forest—the lightning spark and that massive footprint. The internet gave me nothing useful yesterday. Sure, I learned that it belonged to an animal called an “elephant,” which has been extinct for centuries, but that only added to my confusion. I had jokingly thought I might’ve discovered a new species, but the truth is, I don’t know what to think anymore.
The lightning spark from that night flashes again in my mind, refusing to leave me alone. It’s like a thread I’m supposed to pull, but I don’t know where it leads.
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The next morning, I make up my mind. I need to go back. There’s no logic behind it—just this nagging feeling that I missed something.
The forest is quiet when I arrive, the air cooler than yesterday, the sun shrouded in a thin veil of clouds. I step into the woods, my footsteps crunching against the dry leaves. The same path as before, but this time, I feel... heavier. Maybe it’s the weight of my unanswered questions. Or maybe it’s just my imagination playing tricks on me again.
As I walk deeper, I see someone approaching from the other direction. It’s an old man, his steps slow and deliberate, his lips moving as though he’s chanting something under his breath. His eyes are half-closed, lost in his own world.
We pass each other without a word. I don’t stop, and neither does he. I barely even glance at him, too focused on my search. Just some guy. Probably not important.
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Hours later, my search turns up nothing. Again. No strange sparks, no new footprints. Just trees, shadows, and silence. I don’t know what I was expecting to find, but whatever it is, it’s not here. Frustration bubbles up, but I push it down. There’s no point staying any longer. I sigh and turn back toward the road.
When I finally step out of the forest, I freeze. The old man is there again. This time, he’s leaning against the railing at the side of the road, his eyes closed, as though he’s been waiting for something—or someone.
I hesitate for a moment, then approach him. “Hey,” I say, my voice breaking the silence. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. What brings you to this part of the woods?”
His eyes open slowly, calm and steady, as if he’s been expecting me. “I received a prophecy,” he says simply. His voice is soft but firm, like he believes every word he’s saying.
“A... prophecy?” I repeat, raising an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“Yes,” he replies, unfazed by my skepticism.
I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re telling me you believe in that stuff? Prophecies? That’s ancient fairytale nonsense.”
His expression doesn’t waver, but I see his eyes narrow slightly for a fraction of a second. Then, just as quickly, his calm demeanor returns. “The world is far more complicated than you can comprehend,” he says, his tone unshaken.
“Sure it is,” I mutter under my breath. “So, what’s this prophecy about? Did it tell you to come stand by this railing and spout cryptic stuff to strangers?”
He tilts his head slightly, watching me with an unreadable expression. “Perhaps,” he says quietly, as though my sarcasm doesn’t bother him at all.
I don’t know what to say to that, so I just shrug. “Well, good luck with... whatever this is.” I turn and walk past him, feeling more amused than anything. A prophecy. Right.
But as I take a few steps forward, the lightning spark flashes in my mind again—bright and vivid, almost blinding. The footprint follows, the memory of its impossible size making my stomach twist. My eyes widen as realization dawns on me.
I stop dead in my tracks, my pulse quickening. Slowly, I turn back toward the old man, but... he’s gone.
The railing is empty, the road silent. It’s as if he was never there.
A chill runs down my spine, and for a moment, I just stand there, staring at the empty spot where he’d been. Was he even real? Or am I losing it?
I shake my head and start walking again, but the questions won’t stop. The lightning. The footprint. The old man. How is any of this connected? Or is it?
Whatever the answers are, I know one thing for sure: this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.