The air was the special kind of cold you only get right before dawn, and even the whitening color of the sky seemed to carry that chill. I pulled my coat tighter around myself, cursing my own stupidity, which always tended to get me into messes of all sorts. This was no exception. Wherever did I get the idea that watching the sunrise on the lake that lay beyond the forest was the best thing I could do with my time? Wherever did I get the idea that traversing this forest in the morning would be any less frightening than spending the night camping at the lake? All right, I guess spending the whole night out there would be beyond even my recklessness – but I never thought that a morning forest could be just as, or even more frightening, than the night one. Perhaps it looked more inviting in summer, but now, with the dead leaves under my feet, the bare trees stretching their branches into the sky in supplication all around me, and the white wisps of fog creeping between them – it was nothing short of terrifying.

    The fog might actually be a good thing, I told myself in a vain attempt at reassurance. The fog probably meant the lake wasn’t too far away. A branch snapped under my foot, startling me into walking faster, nearly running  –against all logic – to where the fog was thickest, wishing to get to the lake and stay there until the sun was up completely. It was only when I felt the ground becoming softer and heard it squelch underneath my feet did I realize that the fog had led me not to the lake, but to the swamp that bordered it.

    That's alright, I told myself, stopping. This was only the beginning of the swamp, so as long as I didn’t get any deeper and followed the edge of it, I would get to the lake. Changing my direction appropriately and taking care to walk slowly this time, I moved on.

    Making sure there were always trees on one side, I walked, feeling colder by the second. For just a moment, I stopped to blow on my freezing hands and when I looked up again, I saw a figure in the distance. My heart soared. This was it, I thought. The lake was close, and this must be a fisherman heading the same way. I ploughed on, trying to keep the figure in my sight.

    It turned out to be surprisingly easy. Even at my pace, I seemed to be catching up. The closer I got, the more my original impression dissipated. The person ahead lacked any attributes of a fisherman – a pole, to start with. Neither did he look like someone come to camp by the lake, unless he was taking a walk without any belongings typical of a tourist.

    Whoever this person was, though, anyone was better than being alone here, and I persisted in my pursuit. Soon enough, I could see that he – at a distance, the figure appeared slim enough to be female, but as I got closer, the possibility of it being a woman was discarded – was definitely neither fisherman nor tourist. I couldn’t imagine either choosing a fur-collared black coat for such a walk. I even started wondering whether the man ahead could be a reluctant adventurer, lost not unlike myself. Still, I reasoned, two people wouldn’t be as lost as one.

    No sooner did that thought cross my mind than my quarry turned to look at me. I called out and waved while trying to see him better. Half of his face was obscured by dark hair that fell down to his shoulders, but even from where I was, I could see him smiling. Whoever he was, he was happy to see another human being to keep him company in the middle of this cold and creepy morning.

    After I made a few more steps, he turned again and resumed walking. I took this as a sign for me to follow. A few more times he would stop, allowing me to catch up a little more every time, and looking back at me with the same smile, standing motionless. As I kept approaching, I could now see his dark eyes, and his skin, white as porcelain – a stark contrast against his hair and clothes – no doubt because of the mist that seemed to turn the whole world monochrome.

    A snag caught my foot just as I was about to cover the remaining distance between us, and when I righted myself after nearly falling on my face, I couldn't see him anymore. I looked around, failing to understand how someone could disappear without a trace in a matter of seconds, but couldn’t catch even a glimpse of the one I had been following for what felt like a long time.  I couldn’t see him anymore, nor the tree line that used to be on my right.

    Taking a sharp breath, I held the air in my chest until I felt I’d suffocate unless I exhaled. I felt dizzy for this improvised breathing exercise, but at least it stopped me from panicking and running in a random direction, which undoubtedly would’ve been the death of me. All right, so I strayed from the edge of the forest, somewhat deeper into the swamp, I thought. Not to worry. All I had to do was head backwards, checking the ground before stepping, and I would be fine. I would be fine, I repeated to myself, following my own instructions and glancing over my shoulder every other second, now as afraid to catch a sight of the dark-haired man as eager as I was to see him before.

    At least the direction I had picked turned out to be right. The trees soon loomed in the mist ahead. I let myself breathe more freely, and decided I wasn’t going to look back anymore. The decision, instead of making me less scared, only caused my walk to the tree line to turn into a mad stumbling dash, because every step without looking back instilled more fear in me.

    With my back against the first tree I’d reached, I slid down to the ground. This was it, I thought. I wasn’t going anywhere from that spot until it was well into daytime, light enough to see through the forest properly. Breathing sharp cold air until my lungs hurt, I eventually managed to calm myself. Now I just had to keep myself from falling asleep.

    "Did you get lost?"

    I startled, realizing that despite my decision to keep awake, my forehead had already drooped onto my knees.

    "Yes," I answered the unseen speaker, shaking my head to get rid of the drowsiness. "I thought I’d get to the lake, but I followed someone walking ahead of me, and got too far into the swamp."

    "No wonder you did. A young man got lost around here once, trying to find his way to the lake where his lover was waiting for him. He's been looking for her ever since."

    I felt a chill run through me, deeper than the physical cold.

    "You mean, like, a ghost?"

    "Call it whichever you like."

    I suppressed another shudder and pulled myself to my feet.

    "It's a good thing I met you, then," I said, trying to sound as lighthearted as I could.

    "Indeed."

    Finally on my feet, I turned to see the speaker for the first time. The smile that rang in the last word he had spoken was shining on his porcelain-like face, half-shrouded by the tousled black hair.

 

Monochrome first appeared on page 26 of the Winter 2011 issue of From the Depths.

Maria is a 26-year-old owner of a geographically confusing accent, a firm belief that nothing is impossible and a list of job experiences apt to baffle most potential employers which makes it just as well she's devoutly freelance. She prefers bands rather than music styles, authors rather than literary genres, and coffee rather than a reasonable bedtime. Her stories have been featured by a number of online publications and are also available on her blog, The Coffee Clef.

Photo Credit: Warren, Savannah Renée, photographer. “A Morning on Loch Ness.” Photograph. © 2008.