I emerged from the trees and stepped into the edge of a huge circular meadow. The comforting sweetness of the pines had dissipated. The view here was different, but still pretty. Mounds of long, soft grass sloped down to a perfect circle of a pond in the middle.
But even as I thought it, the word “pond” seemed wrong. It was water, sure. It had to be. This was what I’d mistaken for the parking lot, the sun glimmering on this pond. But I’d never seen water like this. The longer I looked, the more I got the impression that it was the sunlight itself that was moving, shimmering. The water was so still, it looked fake.
I stood for a long time, for no reason. Just looking. The air stirred against my skin, breath on the back of my neck, raising fine hairs and sending a shiver the length of my spine. The longer I looked, the more seeing felt like…remembering.
I shook my head. Fake water or not, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that I had no idea where I was. Every year, I marked up little side trails and shortcuts that I favored on the forest maps handed out at the park gate. This pond wasn’t on any map I’d ever seen, but I was definitely nowhere near the parking lot where I’d walked in. I let out a long, slow breath, envisioning the building panic leaving me in a plume. Calm down.
I should just turn back into the trees and try again. Choose a different direction.
And I would. That’s exactly what I’d do, as soon as I finished looking at the pond. The…water?
It was water. What else could it be? It was weird, this clearing in the middle of the forest, like the pond had just been dropped here. No stream seemed to be feeding it; it was just…there. It wasn’t big, no farther across than the swimming pool at the community center.
A breeze picked up and brushed the side of my face, but nothing else around me moved. No insects buzzed, no birds sang. The panic I’d felt a moment ago was gone, suddenly absent like the natural noises that should be there. I stood, aware of the stillness watching me, waiting to see what I’d do. The pond remained unrippled, the grassy moat unruffled. It was pretty here. Or it should be. I stared at the pond. The water.
Chirrrp!
I jumped a little. My watch, reconnecting with its people. Thank God.
Chirrrp!
Actually, a glance confirmed it was telling me that my heart rate was climbing. While standing still. Which was unlikely. I frowned and held my wrist up to the sky, as if that bit of elevation could help it connect with the satellite. Still nothing. But back into the trees was the way out; it simply had to be. Okay. Time to go. I scanned the treeline and chose my point of entry, back and to the left of where I stood. Let’s go.
Okay.
This was me, going.
No reason to wait.
Except, what was that? Something down there, right at the water’s edge. It was hard to see from this angle. I squinted upward. The sun was still high in the sky, no worries there. I had plenty of time. Why not take a look? I just wanted to see what was out there. There was no harm in getting a little closer.
One step into the meadow and I discovered that the mounds of grass were solid. Hundreds of tiny mountains of earth covered with long silky grass. An illusion of fluidity where there was none. I picked my way carefully between the mounds, slowly approaching the water.
Wouldn’t want to break an ankle here.
The thought--mine?--almost stopped me, but I was so close, and I really wanted to see the water, if that’s what it was. I scrunched up my nose and tried not to breathe too deeply. It definitely didn’t smell great. There could be some contaminated sludge that the county was hiding out here where they thought no one would find it. A few more carefully placed steps forward and I stopped.
Nope. Not sludge.
Just water. Staying out of the mud to protect my fairly new and expensive shoes, I gazed down into the pond. Just water, but perfectly still. And perfectly black – a fluid, inky well. The only thing visible was my own hazy reflection and a muted version of the sky behind me. It was just water, but it was… there was something not quite right. The longer I looked, the more I was sure of it. Like something standing off to the side, just far enough that I couldn’t quite make it out. I knew what it was, I knew it. It was on the tip of my tongue; I just couldn’t quite get hold of it. I leaned over a little farther, closer to my reflection in the water. I hated this feeling – knowing something but not being able to name it. I frowned.
My reflection smiled.