Taken By The Wind

I was a college student at the time, late into my studies at a prestigious university. Don't want to name names. Who knows who could be listening in? I can divulge it was somewhere in the United States.

My studies focused on the weird and wonderful. Folklore, cryptozoology, all that supernatural stuff. But I did not believe in any of it. I was merely interested in the history behind it and reasons why people still believe in such fantastic tales in spite of loads of evidence pointing to the contrary. Of course, I turned out to be horribly, horribly mistaken. The supernatural exists, without a doubt. I am the evidence of that.

This started when I was roped into a little expedition with a bunch of colleagues that were very convinced in the supernatural. Anything even slightly out of the ordinary was grounds for a thorough library session and investigation. One day, one of them, bless his soul, I can't remember his name, came pounding on my dorm room door. I remember my roommates (who were busy nursing hangovers after the kind of parties colleges are known for) glaring daggers at me as I got up to open the door.

He shouted my true name and shoved a book into my hands. It was covered in yellow highlighter marks.

“This better not have been a library book.” I said, as I focused in on one set of words that seemed to be highlighted heavier than the rest. “....'Springs of Death'?”

He had a look of utter jubilation as he heard me say those words.

“Yes, this gives credence of a sort of reverse Elixir of Life in a way. Something that kills with a touch as soon as you enter. Or something like that. What I've read never specified anything other than that death is closely linked.”

“It's a hot springs then.” I try to let him down as quickly as possibly, so that he would leave and my roommates would stop planning my murder. “Many hot springs are known to go to temperatures that the human body cannot withstand.”

“Here's the thing. All that the group and I have read makes no mention of physical springs or fountains nor water.”

He mentions a forest name, which I am also not at liberty to divulge as it would give away my former location and possibly put any of the...Unchanged that still live and work in the area in possible danger.

He's almost bouncing with excitement as he thinks the forest is a good place to start, as there is evidence linking the “Springs” to them. Reluctantly, I agree. And days later, I'm out with the Scooby Gang in a forest looking for evidence of the “Springs of Death”.

A lot of that day was spent theorizing on what they could possibly be. A fountain? An entity? Some sort of fecal matter dump? That theory came from one of the more head-in-reality people of the group. He certainly was into the supernatural, but he was entranced with the history of....bathrooms to be honest. Plumbing, toilets, the illnesses caused by old time people just dumping buckets of feces on the street. But I digress.

Many theories flew around as we went deeper into the forest. I threw a few theories in as well, but more grounded in reality. I had to keep this group from turning into the kinds of people you hear on AM Radio, and I certainly wasn't gonna leave The Man Who Knew Too Much (About Toilets) holding the bag, so to speak, on his own.

It seemed to have become night faster than we had expected. I remember griping that we didn't have any camping gear so we couldn't camp out until daylight. So, we were forced to trek our way back to the van in the dark.

It all happened in a flash. I remember the group scurrying around in a panic. Flashes of red against the darkness of the night. And then the forest was gone. They were gone, though I'm pretty sure some of them also got snatched up by another one of the Others,

My Keeper spoke to me in a voice that commanded authority and respect.

“Oh my sweet darling, you seem to be seeking what I seek...”

Forced from the world I knew to Faerie, yet seeking the same thing. The more time I spent in there, the more I believed. I wasn't that skeptic anymore. The Springs of Death are real. Whether they are in humans realms, Arcadia, or some place I have yet to glimpse,  I do not know.

Thorns and brambles piercing my skin as I come back to the world I once was a part of, with a mission, with a purpose.

I exist to find The Springs of Death.