An actual terrible story thing. (WIP)

>You've been planning this hiking trip for some time.
>A much needed break from everything. Your shitty job, unreliable friends, and the goddamned city.
>This was going to be your chance to get back to what you knew and loved. The outdoors.
>You'd grown up in a small rural town. Visiting the larger cites only occasionly with your family.
>Endless summers were spent hunting and fishing. Plinking at cans with a bb gun, then later a rifle.
>Roaming the forest near your parents home, revelling in the sights and smells.
>The tall pine trees interspersed with oak. The rich loamy earth of the forest floor. Magpies and ravens flittering about in the high branches.
>Hearing the soft crunch of your boots on the leaves and the wind through the treetops.
>This was to you the best place in the world.
>But you had to leave it someday.
>College had been a shock.
>It took a few months acclimatizing to the urban lifestyle.
>The noise was hard to get used to.
>The endless cacophany of the urban sprawl. Cars and sirens. Neighbors that considerd 2:00am to be a reasonable hour for playing shitty music at max volume.
>The worst part was the people. You quickly learned the proper attitude when dealing with them though. Distrust and fuck you.
>After graduation you were hired at a large design firm. Excellent pay, full benifits, work you enjoyed. Then the economy went to shit
>Fucking economy.
>As the newest there your ass was the first to go. You did manage to snag another job soon enough though. For half the pay, no medical, no enjoyment.
>At least bills got payed and you could afford to save some money up.
>Fuck all that shit though. You're going back to the country. A week alone in the forest. Just what you need.

>Preparation is key.
>After all, proper planning and preperation prevents piss poor performance.
>Camelback with extra water bladder, check. Water purification tabs, check. Food, check. First aid kit, check. Tentclothesponchoknifecameraspadesrirachasaucechecklistcheckfirestarter ect.
>Firearm......check. There are blackbear and mountain lion where you're going, better safe than sorry. Although, the only time you'd probably see a mountain lion is when it's biting your face.
>Sneaky sumbitches.
>The Ruger Super Blackhawk your grandfather left you should be sufficient. It's 5 1/2" barrel made it not too overly large for wearing on your hip and afforded more accuracy and ease of aim than a snubnose.
>The .44 magnun round it was chambered in will sure ass hell deterr anything you may come across in the woods there.
>Revolver and ammo, check.
>Time to go. Leave a note with a friend, where you're going, route, and when you'll return.
>Load up your Bronco, get the fuck outta town.
>Feels good to be leaving. The urban jungle falling away behind you. Gradually turning from boulvards and buildings, to streets and single story stores and homes.
>Finally only trees, fields and the road ahead.
>Ten hours later you pull up to your parents home. Hugs and smiles all around. Staying the night at the old homestead as to have a fresh start in the morning.
>They're just happy to see you. Eager to hear all about the turrible life of them city folks.
>Dinner was even better than you remembered it used to be. The conversation light and  full of familiar stories.
>A few beers shared with your father.
>A home cooked meal and your old bed.
>The best rest you've ever had. Seems you can go home again. If only for a visit.

>The dawn, oh god how you missed it. You've awoken earlier than needed just to witness the gradual transformation.
>Not the orange blast of heat and light that ruined so many morning commutes. Apparently, most commuters can't understand the concept of sunglasses and well, THE RISING SUN IS FUCKING BLINDING.
>No, a real sunrise. The true early morning hours. The land awakening.
>The pale blue glow in the east slowly growing lighter and brighter. Gradually filling the sky.
>Shapes of the landscape becoming more distinct. A heavy dew coating all.
>Light mist hovering just over the tops of the tall grasses.
>Then orange, a glimmer of the sun peeking over the horizion.
>The dew drops refracting a fiery glow that shimmers in the ground mist. The early cries of birds as they announce themselves to the morning air.
>You watch it all. A smile never leaving your face.
>This is what you remember. This is why you are here.
>Returning to what you know and love.
>You'd left the truck at your parents home. On foot from here on out.
>Your pack is heavy but not excessive. The first step, followed by another. Then another and so on.
>Stop and turn at the edge of the forest looking towards home. The house framed by the morning mist and the sloping sides of the valley. Sun, back-lighting all in an amber glow.
>You take a picture with your digital camera. It's just too perfect not to.
>You  turn and enter the forest, following an old deer trail.

>Midway through the third day of the hike you spot a small hare under a blueberry scrub.
>Crouching slowly, your hand snaking down to the revolver at your hip. Flipping the clasp on the holster. Wait, derp.
>The .44 magnum would just turn the tiny thing into fuzzy pink mist. Standing, you laugh a little at your reaction.
>Killing fluffy things for fun isn't how you get your Jollies.
>A quick stomp of your foot gets the hares attention. It stands, ears and eyes scanning for danger. You stamp again. It thumps the ground with its own foot in response.
>Dumbass rabbit. Waving your arms, "Hey fucktard! Blaghabeebitblberg! Go on, git!"
>Finally spotting you it bolts. Maybe you should have brought a .22 as well. That hare would have been a tasty suppliment to your food supply.
>Fuck it. You got trail mix.
>Continuing your trek through the woods. Sunlight glinting through through the tree tops creating a patchwork on the forest floor.
>Rounding the bend of the path as it meanders around  a hill you freeze. The fuc...?
>Across the path ahead the air shimmers like a mirage.
>Well this is new.
>You walk around the distorted area. A perfect circle ten feet across. The wavering effect rising in a column.  Reaching down for a stick, you flip it into the haze.
> With muffled "fwoop", it disappears as it touches the ground. Whoa. Needs more experimenting.  Taking up a larger branch you poke the soil.
>The tip vanishes. Pull back and it reappears. Dirt remaining undistured. Neato.
>Your curiosity is killing you. You gotta touch it.
>You reach foward tentatively.

>The tip of your finger disappears. "Whoa that's fu"...
>It's as if you just stuck a finger in a light socket. A powerful jolt seizes your muscles.
>"Ahhh! HNNNGGGGG!", expelled through a grimace of pain, body teetering towards the haze.
>Falling forward and passing through the field. The hazy ground rushing up to your face.
>"OH SHIIIIIIIIIII", fwoop.
>Passing through the soil like water, tumbling through blackness.
>fwoop.  "IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!" A glimpse of sun and sky as you're flung upwards from the ground, aaaaaand back to the falling part.
>Thwomp! JESUSFUCKWHATHEHELLWASTHATOHNOESCANTINTOBREATHINGHNNNNN
>Landing on your pack absorbed most of the fall but still knocked the wind out of you. Gasping, rolling over to hands and knees you take stock of the surroundings.
>Still innawood only this is more jungle and swamplike. The tall pines replaced by broadleaf willows  and old gnarled oak.
>The canopy crisscrossed  with vines. Spanish moss swaying in the gentle breeze.
> Dense thorny underbrush fills the gaps between the trees. A small animal path leads to the marshy pond behind you.
>Looking through the hole in the canopy above the pond youcan see mountains...., wat. What the fuck? Mountains? There shouldn't be any for at least three hundred miles and is that a goddamn castle?
>Where in the fuck am I?
>PANIC!

>Oh god what the hell is going on? Am I dead? This can't be real life.
>Yeah, yeah! I'm dreaming. That haze was probably fumes or something, just knocked me out. This shit ain't real. Yeah, that's it. It's all just a fantasy.
>If it's not real then why the hell do I hurt all over? An ache washing over you like a landslide.
>No this is real. Closing your eyes and shaking your head "No no no no no This isn't happening." But there's no escaping the reality.
>Opening your eyes, yup. You're still here. Wherever here is.
>"At least the weather is nice.", you remark to nobody, looking up to the sky. Seeing only a few patchy clouds.
>You would try out your GPS device if you could afford one. You're just a poor boy though. As  if somebody actually cared. Eh, you don't need anyones sympathy.
>Ok panic over. Just relax, take it easy. Come on. Calming breath in, hold, and let it go.
>The spinning feeling in your head is starting to settle down. Jeebus, you almost felt like you were a little high. You need to sit. Just get down low and relax.
>Sitting with your back to a tree. The wind randomly blowing, swaying vines and branches. The forest smells fill your nose but none of that really matters right now.
>You need some answers. Looking up to that castle you note it's bearing with your compass. Gotta be some people there.
>After checking your supplies you head out towards the castle.