You know how they say, “The grass is always greener on the other side.”

So very true.

Or it could just be my imagination but the air was completely different on the other side of the fence. But the fresh air that surrounded lifted my spirits almost immediately. I took off my shoes and left it by the fence. The wet earth beneath my feet. The grass between my toes. The soil getting under my toenails. I took a minute to savour the moment. I had been wanting to do this for the longest time. And now finally…

Off I go.

On my very first real adventure.

The forest was nothing like I envisioned it to be. Seeing the way the adults avoided it like a plague made me assumed that it was a dark and scary place where monster and other creatures lived.

But no.

Not even close.

It was mystical and looked as if it housed fairies. Sunlight filtered through the canopy like beams of sunrays hitting the forest floor. The wild grass was like a heaving dark-green ocean, swaying in the cool forest breeze. Birds sang and rabbits hopped around. I even spotted a deer although it ran away before I could get a closer look. I marked the trees I walked by to ensure my way out but my heart never wanted to leave. I loved it here. It smelled of earth and nature, of progress and growth.

But at some point along my passage, the trees began to change. They stretched taller, and the barks darkened, roughened. The forest ground grew sparse and the amount of light coming through the canopy reduced. I placed my hand to a tree and touched the lichen to mark my path, and it felt like old cork, dry and crumbling. The forest had sunk into a deeper silence, magnifying any sounds that did arise. The air turned cooler, sending shivers down my spine. That was when I started to doubt my decision to climb that fence. Maybe it was there for a reason. Maybe it was really protecting us from something.

Eventually I came to a small, still pool that sat at the bottom of a cliff. A waterfall that had no drive. Perhaps it would have looked more magnificent after a rain fall. It was sort of rounded, like the bathtub we used at home. Except this one was carved out of the rock throughout the centuries by the rushing river. On my left, there was a 10-foot drop to a much larger pool of clearest water that I had ever laid eyes on. All my earlier doubts dissipated as I climbed down to the pool; I had just stumbled upon paradise. Flowers lined the edge of the pool. The water was so still and clear that I could see my own reflection as if I was looking into a mirror. I couldn’t bare to go into the water with the dirt and filth on my body. I settled for cupping for hands together and lifting some water out of the pond.

Suddenly, some rustling in the bushes up at the smaller pond left my hands frozen in mid-air. Water streamed through my fingers and back into the pond, sending ripples through the surface of the water.

Every instinct of mine was screaming for me to run. To get out of there. To scramble away as fast as I could.

But my curiousity held me back. I wanted to see. I wanted to witness. I wanted to experience. So instead, I stayed there, squatting by the pond. Craning my neck, I fixed my eyes on the top of the 10-foot cliff where the source of the sound seemed to be coming from.

The rustling got closer to the point where I not only heard it, I could see it. I could see the bushes move in an unnatural way which ruled out movements caused by the wind. My heart was beating fast, out of fear or anticipation I was not so sure. My palms were drenched with sweat as I stood my ground and waited.

Finally, after what seemed like a year, something emerged from the bush.

A boy.

Although he didn’t looked like one.

Similar but somewhat different.

For starters, he wasn’t wearing anything, just a simple loin cloth fashioned out of some kind of giant leaf. His hair was long and shaggy, messy and unkempt. He didn’t look very clean to me; there were smudges of dirt on his face and all over his body. Three faint red lines, that looked a lot of recovering wounds, cut across his left arm. He was crouched down at the edge of the cliff on all fours and staring down at me. His eyes were focused and intent that somewhat reminded me of our cat when she crouched down to hunt. And yet there was a hint of inquisitiveness and curiousity.

We both just kind of stared, not quite sure what to make out of each other. I was able to stand up when something behind him moved. Something that looked like the dogs we had at the village, except bigger, more ferocious. It gracefully walked to flank the boy, its fur rubbing against his skin. It bared its teeth at me and snarled, hissing some kind of warning I didn’t understand.

Fear took over my curiosity as I spun around immediately and sprinted. I ran like I never knew I could, my eyes peeled on the surrounding trees, desperate to find any mark that I made on my way in. I was so focused on running for my life that I didn’t listen out for any signs of chasing. It was only when I finally reached the fence when I turned back to look.

No signs of that monster or the boy.

But I didn’t want to take any chances. I grabbed my shoes and anxiously scaled the metal fence.

The moment my feet touched the other side, my blood froze in my veins at the sound that echoed through the forest.

A chilling, bloodcurdling howl.