Unlocked

I check into a small town Inn that sits near the edge of a lake near a forest. Supposedly, the spirits of the forest are stronger around here because the poles diverge directly across the center of the forest, or at least that's what the cab driver told me during the thirty-minute drive from the airport. 

Walking up the gravel road to the house that looks as if it was built in the eighteenth century gives me goosebumps and makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. When I touch the doorknob, a strong needle-piercing pain shoots through my brain, almost bringing me to my knees. 

The door opens from the inside, and an older woman with a large scar on her face appears before me. 

"Can I help you?" She asks. I stand at five foot seven inches and probably tower almost two feet above her. 

"Yes. Do you have a room available?" 

"I do. Please come inside, and I'll get you situated," she walks behind the desk placed on the left-hand side facing the entryway, looking into the large living room. "What brings you all the way out here?"

"How do you know I'm not from here?"

"Honey, you're so tanned, and we do not get enough sunlight this time of year to look like you."

"I guess you're right. I'm visiting from Flordia." I say sheepishly.

"You're far from home. There must be something important out here that's brought you all this way." She reaches behind her and grabs a set of keys, sliding them across her desk.

"I'm a nature photographer," I pat my camera bag, "My parents were here a long time ago, and I want to feel connected to them again. Any ideas for the best places to take pictures?"

"How sweet, how long ago were they here?" 

"I'm not sure, sometime before or near 2003." 

The woman looks in shock and moves as fast as she can go, she shuffles up the steps and starts making a racket, which sounds like someone throwing around a bunch of things as if they are searching for something. She comes back downstairs with a small box in her hand, out of breath, and practically throws herself in the chair to take a rest. 

"I thought your face looked familiar, especially those sparkling hazel eyes." She searches through the box and pulls out a photo.

"I'm sorry?" I ask, confused.

"Are these your parents?" She slides the photo to me. 

It was a group photo of twelve. My parents are standing on the right, and when I look closer, I notice the older women standing beside them. 

"Did you know them?" I slam my hands down and lean over the desk, wanting to know everything she possibly does. 

She stares at me with wide eyes before cracking a smile. 

"I'll tell you all about it tomorrow. For now, you should get some rest." She stands up, causing me to stand back. Lifting the keys from the desk, she takes my hand and sets them in my palm. "Your room is the second one on the right."

In shock, I want to ask her so many questions, but the words can't leave my mouth. Instead, the woman is pushing me up the steps. On the landing upstairs, there was a small sitting area covered in books. There is also a girl who looks to be twelve coming out of one of the rooms.

"Hello," The girl says with a cheerful smile. 

I give her a nod, then use the key to open the door. The small room looks eerily similar to my childhood one, down to the trunk at the foot of the bed. I set my bags down and pull out the journals again to see if I can find any more information on where to start looking now that I'm in Alaska.  

The vile falls out of the bag along with the journals. As it clinks against the floor, the sound of it calls out to me. I pick it up, and it's almost as if it's glowing in my hands. My heart picks up speed, and the walls are closing in. Uncorking the bottle, I put it to my lips. 

The knocking on the door stops me from titling the bottle back. 

"Dinner time," a voice sings out from the other side. I close the bottle and shove it underneath my pillow. 

"Coming," I call back.

Opening the door, I see the little girl waiting for me outside. She takes me by my hand and leads me down the steps and into the dining room. 

"Grandma makes the best roast chicken on the planet. I hope you're hungry," 

My stomach growls from her words, reminding me that I haven't eaten anything since the diner almost two days ago.

"Starving"

"That's great. I'm Juliana, by the way, and my grandma is Marcy. My papa and brother should be joining us later. They're finishing hunting before the snow comes over the mountains." Juliana explains and talks her head off when we sit at the table.

Juliana speaks so fast and can hardly even get a breath in, although that doesn't seem to slow her down any. She rambles on and on, mostly about the other kids who go to school with her on the reservation and her favorite toys. It's only when she starts talking about the forest do I actually start paying attention.

"Papa and Luke should be here any second. Once the moon appears, they try and get here as fast as possible. It's really dangerous in the forest cuz nighttime is when the huge wolves come out to play." Juliana says while setting the table. 

"Julie. Don't be scaring the poor girl. Giant wolves are just a legend we use to keep you kids inside. The forest is safe... well, as safe as it can be. There are wild animals out there," Marcy cuts off Juliana and begins plating us each some food.

"Wolves?" I look at Juliana, hoping she'll go off on a tangent and reveal something she might not even realize she knows. 

 "Yeah. There are some really big ones deep in the forest," Her eyes grow wide, " I saw them once a long time ago." 

"No wolves this time," A man's voice calls out from the doorway. 

Turning to face the voice, I'm taken aback when I see the tall, handsome man appear. There is a miniature him standing on the left with him, holding several fish on a string. The boy comes running over to Marcy's arms, and she bends down to give him a big hug. 

"We have a guest?" Marcy shouts to the man.

"A guest? I thought tourism season was over, Ma." He blows out a breath.

"She's not a tourist. She's a photographer," Marcy corrects him.

Standing from the table when he enters the dining room, I extend my hand.

"Hi, I'm Freya. Did you just come from the forest?"

"That's where the lake is," he remarks off-handed while taking off his coat and hanging it on the hook. 

"Matthew, I didn't raise you to be rude," Marcy says, then looks between him and me, "Actually, he can take you tomorrow while I take the kiddos to see the new Dreamworks movie."

Matthew grits his teeth, making the vein in his forehead pop out. "I don't have time to show some outsider around the forest."

"It's alright, I can find my way around-"

"Nonsense." Marcy cuts me off, "Plus, you're not an outsider."

"Ma," Matthew groans.

"She's not. She's the daughter of Jenny and Robin. You remember them, don't you?"

His face turns white as if he's seen a ghost. He squints his eyes, looking me up and down as if he's studying me. 

"Be ready at nine. We'll leave then," Matthew directs. Then he grabs a plate Marcy prepared and takes it upstairs without saying another word. 

"Don't worry about him. He was there the day your parents passed, and he hates himself for it. Ever since that day, he's been a shut-in until he met Nicole, that is," Marcy places a hand on each of the kids' shoulders. That's their mom. She left Alaska almost three years ago, and I'm afraid he's gone back to his old ways."

"He was there the day my parents died? What about you?" I ask.

Grandpa never told me the story of their passing, just that it was a car accident. I hadn't really ever thought about it as I got older, only the fact that they were no longer with me. Once I was old enough to look more into it, the dreams had  me too distracted to even think about it. 

"I was," Marcy hangs her head low.

"Can you tell me?" The words leave my mouth before I have a second to think about if I really want to know how they died. 

Marcy looks at the kids and tells them to take their food to the living room and watch TV. She takes a seat at the chair across from me and pours us each a glass of tea. 

"There's not much to the story. They were leaving for the airport, and their taxi hit a patch of black ice, causing the car to slide off the hill. The car went up in an explosion, killing them and the cab driver."

"Why would Matthew hate himself for that? It seems like it was a complete accident."

"He stepped out on the street, and the cab swerved to dodge him. It's when the car swerved that it hit the black ice." Marcy takes a sip of her tea.

I sit back in my chair, unsure how I'm feeling. Unable to speak I eat what's on my plate and then go upstairs to prepare for the journey tomorrow.