1. Disturbance is here.  The rain soaked soil hinders the climb and distracts thought.  Nearly falling, she treads against the hill.  A strand of dark hair falls over her eyes.  She brushes it behind her ear and looks warily toward the trees.

2.  She bends to the ground, sneaks between the trunks, and loses her way.  The snapping branches under her feet sound no different than those of another animal.  How those two touched by the window. Tangled thoughts dig nails into the sleeve of her jacket.  The forest makes noises of its own.

3. Once a glacier passed by here — shoving these boulders, unwilling to share the land.  The rocks lumber one on top of the other and move toward her.  A strange light shines on the pine tops, a projector’s light, not the sun.  The pines melt.  They drip down the rocks.  The shadows follow and evaporate in the stillness of the grove.  After stumbling hours and struggling over stones and slick moss — all but imperceptible was that moment when the soft ground gave way to rotten boards.

4.  The dahlias are in bloom.  Along a thin, overgrown path stands a neglected home.  Although grey, its porch and rails are strong.  The roof droops like scales.  Everything spins before her.  The world is deformed.  A system of distorted mirrors tilt slow and persistent.  She grasps the rails for balance.  She runs up steps towards a red door, opens it and disappears. 

5.  Muddied light dulls the tarp covered walls.  Inside, rib-like beams support the roof.  A cloak on a hook hangs above a wicker basket, rubber boots inside.  A hazy lace from curtained windows fogs the scattered pews and gilded remnants of the makeshift altar.

6.  The tarps flutter from the draft.  A blue corridor flashes as a chill sweeps and loops around the room.  Her shadow splits between the corridor panels.  She wavers into a room where the shadeless blue lamp burns.

7.  A rusty hinge creaks open and tremors as it closes.  She flies past the hallway and out of the room.  Blind, she grabs at an empty frame of a nearby window.  With a rattle the window opens.    Climbing out into the daylight, she finds the forest path and slips back home.

—written by Nikita Vishnevskiy