Writing in fragments, breathing unevenly, afraid to move. I can barely see the words in the dark, but I have to write or I'll lose my mind.
"I woke up from the feeling of someone else watching me. The dream broke off abruptly, like someone had yanked me out of it by force. For a few seconds I lay there, not understanding anything, staring into the dim light of the tent and listening to my ragged breathing.
And then I saw her.
She was here. Right here, in my tent, next to me. Very small, no taller than a five-year-old child, but it wasn't a child. Not a girl. Not even a human, though her shape was vaguely human. Arms too thin, shoulders too narrow. Eyes too large – two black voids in the half-light staring at me like they were studying every detail of my face.
I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. We just stared at each other – me, frozen in panic and horror, and it, unmoving, as if it too hadn't expected me to suddenly open my eyes."
Hands shaking. Had to stop to calm down, but it isn't working.
"I don't know how long that look lasted. Two seconds? A minute? An hour? Time completely ceased to exist. I tried to understand what this creature was and what it wanted, but I couldn't – thoughts were tangled and scattered. It just stood there and watched.
I blinked.
Just for a moment. And in that moment, it was gone – like it had never been there. I sat up sharply, gasping, heart pounding so hard I thought it would burst from my chest.
I lit the lamp – no one. No one was there. The tent was empty, everything just as I'd left it before sleep. Only the cold was thicker, and the air felt heavy, sticky, like someone had just been here and left a trace. But I am alone. Completely alone."
Later, slightly calmer, but still trembling.
"It's clear now that the creature leaving tracks around the tent wasn't just my imagination. It's real. And apparently bold enough to come right inside while I was sleeping.
But why was it so surprised to see my eyes open? Why did it vanish so quickly, like I had caught it off guard, not the other way around? What did it expect? That I wouldn't wake up? That I'd just keep sleeping while it stared at me with those huge black eyes?"
Need pauses between words just to steady my breath.
Logically, I should pack and leave right now, but I can't. Not because I don't want to, but because I'm simply afraid to step outside. What if it's out there? What if that's exactly what it's waiting for?
It's terrifying inside the tent too, but at least I don't see it right now.
A few minutes later. Writing is choppy, sharp.
"The journal is open to the previous page. I just noticed. There's a new entry, below mine. Different again. Slightly lower. Familiar yet foreign handwriting.
"You see me, Ellie. But you weren't supposed to."
What do you mean I wasn't supposed to? Who decides what I can and can't see?"
Trying to gather my thoughts. I need to calm down. Breathe evenly. I've seen so much already these past days, but tonight the fear is stronger than ever.
This thing was too close. It revealed itself too clearly.
And I don't know if I'll be able to fall asleep again.
I have to try. I must sleep. Otherwise I won't survive the night.
But if I wake up again and it's here, in the tent, right next to me – I don't know what I'll do.
Because next time, it probably won't wait for me to open my eyes.
I don't want to see it again. I don't want to see those eyes. Ever.
Morning. The fog is thick, sticky, even the fire seems dim. Writing slowly, trying not to think about last night.
"I forced myself to get up as soon as there was enough light. I barely slept – all night I felt like the shadow in the tent would start watching me again. But it didn't return, and that's already a relief.
Now I need to keep moving.
Something is waiting for me on the other side of the river.
I don't know exactly what, but I doubt it's worse than what already happened.
Or rather, I'm afraid it is. But there's no choice: I won't go back. I've come too far."
Packed quickly, barely looked down.
The water still creeps along slowly, and again it feels like it's watching my every move. I have to go.
Later. Written during a break. The riverbank is behind me now.
"Crossed over using a fallen tree, half-submerged. Slippery, awkward, cold. But I had no choice.
The bridge has long since collapsed, and that tree is the only way across.
My heart nearly stopped when my foot slipped and I almost fell into the water.
Barely held on by the branches. The icy water burned my palms, but at least I'm on the other side now.
Strangeness: the moment I touched the opposite bank, the air changed. Not just colder or warmer – denser? Heavier?
As if I crossed not just a river, but a border between two worlds."
Anyone writing in the journal again? No. Just wet fingerprints.
I need to stop panicking.
The path became clearer. Now it's obvious someone used it long ago, though I see no human tracks. But the small prints are back. Dozens of them. And they lead forward, deeper into the forest.
I'm following them.
I want to understand who was there last night. And why it chose to scare me. What did it want?
Midday. The forest is denser. The air presses on my chest. I'm almost sure I'm being led. I saw them. They're here. Around me. Everywhere.
At first, I thought I imagined it. Figures flickered between the trees.
Small, semi-transparent, barely visible. I froze, afraid to breathe.
There are several. Not just one. Small, thin, with narrow limbs, large eyes. Like children's shadows drawn in charcoal across the air.
They watched me from behind the trees.
Didn't approach. Didn't attack. Just watched. I felt their sorrow – deep, real. And fear. Their fear me. They weren't predators. They were frightened children. I suddenly understood clearly: They aren't afraid of me – They're afraid for me.
– Who are you? – I asked softly. My voice trembled.
The shadows didn't answer, only stared.
Then one – the same one that had been in the tent at night – stepped a little closer.
Her eyes were huge and shining.
And suddenly she whispered, barely audible, like the wind rustling leaves:
– Don't go any further. She's there.
– Who?
– The one who takes. The one who holds the water.
I understood: it was the spirit of a child. Not alive. Not dead. Something in between. Trapped here. They all were. Lost children. Children the water took long ago. And now they warn me, because they don't want me to meet the same fate.
I lowered my dagger. My heart pounded, but the fear was gone. Only sorrow remained, deep and real.
– I have to go, – I said quietly, as if apologizing.
The child spirit shook her head, very slowly. Then stepped back.
The others did the same. They knew they couldn't stop me.
But they warned me anyway. Like children crying after a mother walking toward the cliff.
I walked on. Toward the one they fear.
Evening. Ahead thick fog. In it, the silhouettes of huge trees with tangled roots.
"I hear water – constantly now. It drips, it whispers, as if calling me closer. And I see it too – ahead, a lake, hidden in the mist, but I feel its presence. And above it someone stands. I can't see her clearly yet, but I know who she is. A nymph. No, not just a nymph. A nereid. Mistress of this water. Its guardian. Its dark essence. She's been waiting for me, probably since the very beginning of my journey. Now I understand why the children were afraid. She is the cause of their fear. They didn't want to scare me – they tried to protect me. But it's too late now.
I have to see her."
Once again, foreign prints, tiny handprints on the journal's margins. And a short note, in someone else's handwriting:
"She was waiting for you, Ellie. Now be careful."
Yes. I'll be careful. At least because I no longer have a choice. I'm going forward. To the water. To her.