Joan

Chapter XX

When you're not looking for something you find it, when you're actively looking for something then it never shows.

This fog isn't popping up like I want it to- meaning it's making my life inconvenient. I'm not a quitter, though, so I keep at it, wandering aimlessly through this dark, humid jungle.

Though I'm aware of how eerie this place is, I'm still not feeling the uneasiness everyone else was when we first entered. Maybe it's because I know what lurks in this place- maybe it's because my sixth sense is always plastered- but I'm not getting that hair-stands-up-on-the-back-of-my-neck kind of vibe, it's more like why-won't-this-fog-just-come-out-and-swallow-me-already feeling. Still, patience is a virtue and I need to see what might happen once I act like my guard's down.

I make sure and check that my vine rope is secure around my waist before continuing. I am genuinely curious to see where this fog stuff takes me and if my harebrained scheme will actually work. I mean, if it doesn't and in the end the fog turns out to be some Hunger Games type shit then I guess I can say I tried my hand at science for a change.

At long last, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and when I turn around, I can see a dark, misty matter materializing into a thick, inky fog. It's slow moving at first then starts to speed up as it approaches me, building up in mass as its dark fingers spread towards me.

Welp, either I'm a genius or an idiot, let's see which.

I don't flinch, I don't run, I remain firmly planted to the ground as the darkness overcomes me.

It's the weirdest sensation too. Although it resembles a fog like substance, it fills my nose like smoke- a thick, suffocating smell- that keeps overwhelming me until my eyes water and I feel like the air is being squeezed from me. I can only manage to withstand the scent for about thirty seconds before a lightheaded dizziness takes over and sends me plummeting to the ground.

°°°

"Seriously, Joan, another E?"

"Wha? It's another E that'll be brought up before the end of the quarter, relax, mom."

"Okay, no, we're not doing this-"

"Hey, I was watching-"

"-we need to talk about this."

"Do we really though?...okay, okay, fine."

"This is the third time you've pulled a stunt like this- the third time- and I'm not understanding why you're waiting the last minute to fix your grades. This is important, Joan."

"I'm being serious."

"Then wipe that smirk off your face. I just- I don't understand why you don't put forth the effort in anything other than track."

"Because let's be honest, no one's gonna care that I flunked eighth-grade math when I'm winnin' a medal."

"Is that what you think?"

"Mh, yeah, kinda."

"...Joan, what do you want to do with your life, with your dreams?"

"You already know this: be an Olympic champion."

"And..."

"And...what? That's it, be the fastest runner out there- I'd say that's some pretty good goals if you ask me. I mean, just look at some other people's kids, they want to be YouTubers or Instagram-"

"You want to know what my dreams were when I was younger?"

"As long as it's not some drawn out story then sure. What were your dreams, mom?"