I was standing before a clearing in the midst of nowhere, holding the letters that had led me here closer to myself, grasping them with every ounce of willpower I had left. I contemplated going into the deep ends of wherever this narrow road would lead. Taking a second glance at the letters in hand, I marched forward. The clearing never got any clearer the minute I stepped into the wild. All around me was a crowdedness, dark and green, traumatizing and enticing at the same time. I stopped for a second and stood there bewildered. The road here was breaking into two, both equally laid out, so in sync that it almost seemed impossible that they led to two different places. I picked up a broken skeleton of an autumn leaf from the ground. It looked just as cadaverous. I closed my eyes and let the corpse-like leaf decide my path. Even though I knew the leaf had reached the ground, it took me a full minute before I could open my eyes again. There was no other explanation than that I was horrified, terribly anxious about what was to come forth. And yet, strangely, I could not stop. Split seconds before I opened my eyes, a loud shriek filled the dead air. With new-born urgency, I ran towards the source; it felt familiar. That was my reason. I kept running even as my legs grew exhausted. I did not stop because the shrieks got louder, squeakier, and oddly familiar. After crossing a dozen tall, gaunt trees that bent inwards, I stopped, and so did the sounds. The only thing I could hear was my own heartbeats, rising and hitting every note of breathlessness. Everything came to a halt, and before me stood the biggest mansion I had ever seen in my life. The point where its roof touched the sky hurt my eyes to even look at it. The house was painted a dull grey and had large windows opening outward on every side. The entrance had double doors bigger than the windows, painted a gruesome shade of red. It was inviting me in; I could tell from the eyes of the mansion, the two windows on the top floor looking at me. I walked forward, my footsteps making no noise. I walked faster, but mine still sounded hushed, while someone else's was louder. And they were behind me. The hair at the back of my neck rose, chilling every cell in my entire body. A cold hand wrapped around my mouth, another snaked around my waist, and everything went down.

The cold body behind me grabbed me tighter and lifted me up in the air, throwing me inside the mansion. I struggled throughout the short journey from the front porch to the front door, all in pointless strength. Just as soon as I was inside, the doors behind me shut to a great sound, loud enough to burst my eardrums. I didn't even see my violator. All the strength in my bones drained so I couldn't get myself to stand up. My eyes started to well up and yet there were no tears running down my face. I could feel warmth all over my body as if those cold hands were not even there a second ago. After what seemed like a torturous eternity, I stood up and looked around. My captor was generous in spending and style. The place looked like the setting of those vintage movies. The interior was painted a golden brown with freckles all over. The windows were drawn with off white curtains that only slightly led the sunlight in. There were beautiful paintings on the walls-some of people in ancient attire and others of flowers. There was even a huge fireplace, pretty daunting if you ask me. There were a few old style desks with utility drawers in them. One of them drew my attention. I got closer to look at a photograph of a young man in modern clothing and besides it were a good amount of papers and letters scrawled out. I immediately recognised the papers on the table. They were the same ones as the letters I received. It all came back to me then.

It was last Sunday when I first received the letter. It had gorgeous handwriting on them which made me slightly regret tearing them open in the next minute. But I was curious. There was no other address except mine on them, no clue as to who could have sent them. I read out the very first line and realized it was not meant for me. It was a love letter and I knew of no one who called me “Summer” at any point in my life. But the letter was written so beautifully and so was the content inside, disregarding any moral conscience I had in me. I read it out loud to my sister, who thought it was either a petty joke or someone is actually crushing on me. I decided that it was the second and kept the letter close. I received the next letter on Tuesday, the third on Thursday and the last one yesterday. Every letter opened with “my dearest, Summer” and closed with the hope of meeting soon. Except for the last one. There was an address, somewhere I have never heard of but I was hopeless. I had fallen for this mysterious person who called me Summer. If he was mistaken, I would know it when I meet him. So I had embarked on this journey to either meet the love of my life or to end up heartbroken. Never in a million years have I thought this journey would turn out to be a ride through all sorts of emotions I could not dream of handling.

Another loud scream. And then silence. It was getting dark outside. I could fall from the way the light was drifting away from the room. I hurried over to the candles placed above the fireplace and lit them with the matchsticks I found nearby. I turned around and was struck by a flash of white dashing in the hallway. It looked tiny and not enough to be a child. The place was still as silent, as vacuous. I decided to go after the tiny, white, creature. As I got into the hallway, at the very end of it, I could make out the outline of a ball. A large ball at that. It did not move so I knew it wasn’t the kid I just saw. I moved closer, eyes still searching for the dashing white around. I got closer to the ball and noticed that it had spikes, the soft ones. I tried to touch them when it suddenly turned around and looked at me with blank and hollow eyes. I stumbled backwards, the candles almost slipping from my fingers. Someone held it for me. This hand was warm, unlike my captor from before but it was all there is to that someone. A hand was all there was behind me. Without staring at either of them for long, I gathered myself and tried to run out. The doors did not budge. I tried all my remaining strength on the door and then moved to the windows. It was completely dark outside, not even a star in sight. “Summer”.

A chill ran up my spine as soon as I heard it. Nonetheless, I turned and stared into a face I have never seen before. He wore glasses that made it slightly more interesting, he was absolutely stunning to look at. There was nothing defining about his features and yet when they are all put together, he made one hell of a man. “Summer”, he said once again. I did not think I could feel any colder but his words were laced with ice, in what way was still unclear to me. He held out his hand which I grabbed without a second thought. His hands felt familiar and strangely comforting. For a few minutes I forgot all about the creatures I had come across in that mansion. He alone could make me forget myself if I stayed beside him for too long. And that made me snap. I was aware of my surroundings, and of the stranger holding my hand. I tried to wiggle my way out of it, but he was strong. And his grasp grew stronger the more I tried to resist.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“Why? But, my dearest Summer, did you not come for me yourself?”

He was right. I did come looking for the man who stole my heart with a few loving, magical and dangerous words. But I wanted away. I have had enough of this nightmare.

“My darling Summer..”

“Stop calling me that. My name’s not Summer. What do you want from me? Let me go!”

“Oh but I can’t do that. Come with me, sit down for a bit and you’ll feel better, you see” “I.. No.”

“Come.” He removed his glasses and looked at me with a desperate shade of complete whiteness. Whether it was the pain or the pull in his eyes, I did not know but my body obeyed. I let him take me upstairs. I let him guide me through a series of portraits of young women, all dressed like me. I let him take me into a room that was covered in a black cloth and lights all around. I let him take me and sit me down on a chair in the middle of all that dark chaos. He let me go and I still let him control me. He got behind the lights, fading as he gave me a smile, a lovely kind of smile that could easily rip your heart out of your chest. It made me smile outside and weep inside. My body felt all the hot tears inside every single organ and yet I was smiling, no worries and troubles on my face. Smiling as if someone would now take my picture. And snap!

The man returned to the dark room and picked up the photograph from the floor. She looks relaxed, he thought. He set out into the adjacent room and took out a blank canvas. Dipping a thin brush in black paint, he wrote ‘Summer’ on the back of it and started painting. Downstairs the doorbell rang once, twice and by the third the little boy was let in. He moved to the nearest table without uttering a single word and sat down. There were fresh papers and ink left on them.

And a slip of paper with a new address, addressed to “Lily, my dearest Lily”.

.    .    .