Spire O’Ashes

I wrote a thing last month and decided to expand a little on it. When last we saw our protagonist, she was stuck in a cabin in the woods and couldn’t quite remember who she was.

The wifi kicked in. Apparently my reception in the middle of nowhere is fantastic. I took a quick walk around and I can’t figure out how I even have electricity, but I do. And I’m deciding not to question it.

Luckily, I have a lot of accounts logged into my laptop and, according to Facebook, my name is Spire O’Ashes. It’s the name on my Twitter and everywhere else I tried as well. I get a weird feeling about it, like that’s only technically right and I’m missing something.

Then again, what’s in a name, right?

The nice thing is that if I want to know anything about myself, I can just look through my Facebook. Every time I see a post, I start vividly hallucinating about what happened. I saw a photo of a party I was at and ended up on the roof of the house by the time I was finished remembering what happened at it. That was a great night, but I think this trip down memory lane is starting to distract me.

But I can’t post anything. It’s strange, but I can’t seem to make a single post. It says I don’t have permission and to print out a form and bring it to the central office. I’m not sure what it means by that. I’m in the middle of nowhere. I don’t know what office it’s talking about or how I’d get there.

I mean, my car is back. Or it was. It showed up again in the night last night, but it vanished again this morning. This place is so weird and I don’t know what I should be more worried about. My car going missing? The amazing internet that won’t let me post or upload anything without a form? Those weird lights I see in the woods? The feeling that something is watching me whenever I leave this cabin? The fact that my cupboards are as full as they were when I first got here despite the fact that I know I’ve eaten that entire bag of Oreos three times already?

Maybe that last one isn’t so bad.

I really should start writing. That’s why I came out here, right? I wanted to get away from it all and get that book done. And started. Where did I leave those notes? I hope I brought them. I must have brought them…

Writer’s Retreat Gone Strange

This is just a little idea I had that I wrote down. Let me know what you think!

I’m not entirely certain this is the cabin I rented.

Look, my sense of direction might be bad, but I followed the map exactly! And I found a cabin in the woods that looked just like the picture. The key even worked when I tried it in the lock. So this is probably it, but it’s weird.

The woman said all I’d need was food and the rest of the cabin would be ready for me. And it was! I got my suitcase out of the car and then I dragged all the food inside. It was cozy and it all seemed perfect. I spent some time getting myself settled in and getting hyped up for my solo week in the middle of nowhere with no distractions. I was going to get work done! At last, I was going to get things done.

But, I mean, it was such a nice day. I had to take a walk. How often do you get to take a walk in the forest without other people on the paths, right? But when I went outside, that’s when things started to go wrong.

See, my car was missing when I got outside. Which is weird, because I’m pretty sure I saw it through the window just before I opened the door. I didn’t hear anything, but it was definitely gone when I went outside.

It was back when I got inside and closed the door, though. I can see it out the window. I just can’t get to it somehow.

I’m trying not to think about it too much. After all, I’m not planning to use the car, right? The plan was to rent a cabin in the middle of the woods for the week and get the book done. Or started.

I’m still worried about the car, though. I mean, I have to get back out of here at some point. But I’ve gone in and out of here a dozen times and every time, the car is missing. Not only that, but there’s something different about the woods every time I go out. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something off about it. Like the woods are moving just a little bit every time I close my eyes, then stopping when I open them and hoping I don’t notice that they’ve moved. I do know they’ve moved, but I can’t say how.

It’s midnight and the sun hasn’t set yet. It hasn’t even moved. The moon is out, though. Three of them.

I’m sure I’ll figure out how to get back home eventually. After all, I’m only supposed to be here a week. In case I don’t, though, and this ends up being some freaky woman goes missing in the woods after finishing her masterpiece of a novel situation…

(I really should start on that novel. That’s why I’m out here.)

If anyone finds this I’m…. I can’t remember my name. That’s strange. I had it a moment ago. Maybe that’s what I should try to figure out first. I can’t start this book is without knowing what my name is, right?