The Woods

It was late at night, and I was standing in the woods in the middle of the road. The road looked very similar to the intersection of Maple Street and 151st. The air was still and silent. I could hear laughter in the distance from a house high on a hill poking out of the treetops to the left of the road, and they were shooting Roman candles into the night sky.

I looked down the road ahead of me and saw a small, old-looking black sedan driving around 20 mph. I had this feeling that if I didn't catch up to the car, I would be stuck there forever. So, I ran towards the car at full speed, but I kept falling over.

Eventually, I gave up and fell on my back. I sat there in total silence for a few seconds when I heard a sound like a breeze running through the grass or the waves crashing on a beach. Slowly, I stood up, and when I looked in the direction where the car had been, I saw a bright white haze that stood as a wall blocking the road. As I approached the haze, I started to hear small whispers all around me. When I was right up in front of the mist, I stuck my hand into it. Immediately, my whole body was forcefully pulled into the white haze.

Inside the haze were ruins of an old farm after a tornado. There was an old man singing and rambling in a loud and crazy southern accent. The area was surrounded by tall gray trees. After the first few trees, there was an even denser white fog that was almost glowing.

The man asked me to do a parkour course in the center of his ruined farm. His parkour challenge was a staircase of floating pieces of sheet metal. So, without even caring that everything around me was impossibly strange, I climbed the staircase into a white cloud at the top.