Lost in The Woods

Genre: Dark Fantasy

TRIGGER WARNING - self-harm, suicidal ideation, scary imagery, violence, death

Estimated Reading Time: About Twenty Minutes

Lost in The Woods Copyright © 2021 C.M. Wells

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The night is not something to endure until dawn. It is an element, just like wind or fire. Darkness is its own kingdom, and it moves to its own laws with its own creatures and secrets. It hides the things too terrible for the light of day. It keeps to itself and is only there to remind you of the deepest and most painful truths you pushed there to forget.

But you never forget.

And those truths follow you into the dawn.

Darkness shows things in a way daylight never will. The unfortunate power is the danger it holds - the ability to reduce even the strongest to nothing. But the darkness isn’t some elusive creature which mysteriously disappears each morning, only to emerge when the sun slips behind the horizon - instead, the darkness is all around us even in the face of the most brilliant lights. It slinks into the kinks, cracks, and crevices of our world and waits for us to come to it.

The woods are one such place, where darkness can thrive. Thick canopies shield the sunlight and provide a place where cryptid beings of the shadows can find solace until the night returns. For some, forests may seem good and comforting… But make no mistake, they are far from either of those things. Not for the trees, but for the things which hide in their shadows.

The last place you want to find yourself is lost in the woods.

But many don’t know this, and so my naivety keeps me from realizing the true nature of the danger I am in when I wake up alone with unfamiliar trees whispering to me on a gentle breeze - unable to remember my name, who I am, or how I arrived there. The only hints at my former existence are the blood crusted in the beds of my fingernails and splattered on my tattered white gown. Marks of a life I lived, maybe only mere moments before now, or maybe much longer. I feel jarred, like I was just plucked from one existence and dropped into another. Nothing feels real, not even myself. Time doesn’t even feel like it exists.

I jump at a quick movement in front of me, and then realized it’s my own hand moving to brush hair away from my face. Turning my hand over and over, looking at it intently, only reinforces the strangeness of everything around me.

Even the shuffling leaves nearby sound hollow and fake.

I feel like a frequency, vibrating slower and slower until I slowly fade out of existence. Trying to distract myself from the shaking feeling, I force myself to look at my surroundings. Grey trees with dark green leaves are on every side of me, each one looking like the other. I feel as if I could run for miles and miles, and the moment I stop it would seem as though I had never gotten anywhere at all. I feel myself shrinking into their immensity with every passing moment.

My eyes wander like searchlights, desperate for some variation of the monotonous scenery. Chest tightening and breath hitching, I meet Its gaze.

The White Wolf.

It blinks, crystal orbs of blue light capturing all of my focus effortlessly. Slowly, Its noble head dips downward. It seems to be pointing at something. My eyes follow Its gaze and catch something they somehow didn’t notice before. A Book with tattered pages unfurled and silently flapping in the breeze, pages scrawled with twisted lines and nonsensical symbols of varying colors.

It bends down and closes the book with Its nose, then nudges it closer to me.

My eyes dart between the Being and the Book. As my fingers brush the top of it, an overwhelming feeling of familiarity and possessiveness gushes through me, causing me to quickly clutch it to my chest.

“What are you?” I whisper timidly to the Being, leaning a bit closer with a daring arm outstretched.

The White Wolf seems to smirk at the question, It’s head lifting with a huff of visible breath slowly drifting and twisting from its muzzle before dispersing into nothingness. It approaches me slowly, eyes never leaving mine, until it’s so close our foreheads nearly touch.

A quick snatch and It is running into the woods with the Book clamped between Its teeth. My lungs seize, and I hurtle desperately after. Branches and rocks stab into my bare feet and ankles, slowing my pace. The White Wolf twists between trees effortlessly, but it watches and makes sure it never gets more than twenty or so feet away from me at any given moment. It could easily outrun me if It wanted to. Why does It slow down for me? But this confusion is replaced quickly with my desperation to hold the Book safely in my arms again.

And so I pick up my pace. The White Wolf moves fluidly in a gentle weaving motion, Its fluffy tail mocking me with every step. Its paws are so light, there is no sound to Its steps. Meanwhile, my lungs have turned to lead and my breathing comes in short and exasperated huffs between the frantic pounding of my feet against the forest floor. Slowly but surely, it weaves further and further ahead of me, though it still never goes out of my sight for more than a moment or two.

Each time It flickers out of my view, my throat begins to close up before It drifts back into view again. Finally, when I am starting to feel I can’t go on any longer, The White Wolf started to slow even more until It settles into a matching rhythm, so It can run beside me, coming so close I can feel the air rippling from the strength of Its moving muscles. It glances up at me, as if to taunt me. I reach out for the Book, no longer watching where I am going. Inch by inch, my fingers stretch closer until they are grasping it. The surrounding air ripples violently outward, sending a painful shock running through my fingers and shooting into my shoulder. My lungs force every bit of air out of them, and my legs fly out from under me, sending me sprawling along the forest floor.

Rocks, branches, and dirt stick to my hair and clothes as I fall, leaving scratches and bruises. I finally tumble to a stop, laying on my back. The trees above me start to fade in the distance as a cold, black shadow creeps into the corners of my vision.

I gasp for breath just before plunging into deep and complete darkness.

At first, I am certain I have passed out… But someone who passes out isn’t aware of their surroundings. I wiggle my toes and fingers, feeling them move against the frigid ground. The leaves and foliage underneath me still feel like forest, but no matter how many times I blink, the darkness maintains its intensity.

Cautiously, I push myself upright and shudder as the chill bites into my skin.

Whoosh!

Something bristly brushes against my arm. My quick scream echoes back to me. As it fades out into the distance, I feel a hot breath on the back of my neck, followed by a low growl.

In panic, I lunge forward and try to scramble away, but something sharp digs into the back of my neck and pulls me backwards, deeper into the darkness.

“No!” I flail desperately.

My head slams into the ground.

A creature growls and pounces on top of me, a strange and evil light emanating from its angry, yellow eyes - enough to reveal blood-stained teeth and stiff black fur with points as sharp as needles. A growl pushes past Its grimy lips as they curl into a malicious snarl, and I squeeze my eyes shut in frightened anticipation of the inevitable end.

A sharp, clear bark interrupts the growling of the Dark Wolf over me and quickly turns it into a whimper. My eyes burst open just in time to see the beast cower and slink away, leaving me in utter darkness for only a moment before I am greeted by the gentle glowing of the White Wolf.

It stares with a curious tilt of Its head, watching me with unblinking eyes.

Relief floods me for a moment, instantly followed by another panic - the Book is gone. Frantically, I pat down the bushes and tall grass near the foot of the White Wolf in search of it.

“What did you do with it?” I cry out, running up to it.

My hands are outstretched, ready to shake the beast. Before I reach it, the gentle face darkens to a terrible one and a low growl starts in Its throat. I recoil and Its face returns to normal, but this time there is something else in Its eyes.

Disappointment.

My stomach drops in realization and I slip to the ground, my head hanging low in defeat. Tears start in my eyes. The Wolf approaches me slowly, nudging my head up with Its cold and wet nose. It looks back and forth between something ahead and me.

“I don’t want to follow you anymore.” I whisper, rubbing my eyes. “Just… Just leave me alone.”

It nudges me again.

“I’m done with this stupid game.”

And again.

“No!” I scream, pounding my fists emphatically against the ground.

My voice reverberates through the trees and bounces back to me. When the last echoes die, there is painful and intense silence. The White Wolf looks me over, up and down, and then heads in the direction It had been trying to urge me towards.

For a moment It looks back at me, blue eyes sparkling gently.

Slowly, I lift myself off the ground and start to walk behind It. I don’t want to leave, but I don’t want to be alone anymore. Once I am nearby and following, the Wolf seems aloof to my presence, but every so often It lets Its eyes go sideways to watch me. We continue on in silence, our feet barely making any sound. But as the journey goes on, my feet begin to feel as if the skin on the bottoms has been sliced off and my nerve endings are touching every pebble, plant, and sharp twig beneath them.

Every step becomes agony and I drag farther and farther behind until the Wolf is far enough ahead of me to slip in and out of my sight again. Part of me starts to wonder if this is worthwhile - where is It taking me anyway? Is It luring me in circles, dooming me to roam this place forever? This Beast has been nothing but trouble all this time. What difference does it make if I just leave It here and try to find my way out of these woods on my own?

But I know, somewhere inside myself, I can’t do it alone.

Something tells me I need this Being, however frustrating our interactions.

At last, when I think I can’t go a step farther, It stops. As I reach the place where It stands, a small body of water appears. The surface shimmers on its own, and as I come closer, I can see hundreds of small prism-like stones at the bottom, generating a gentle blue light which is amplified by the crystal-clear water. The surface is still and clear, more like glass than a pond.

I reach out and gently touched the water, erupting it into a cascade of tumultuous rippling. But instead of fading like a normal ripple, this one continues to grow until it reaches the outermost edges of the water - and it doesn’t stop there. The ripples become violent, turning to peaks, and the peaks turn into little waves as the pond begins to rise up onto the banks. The shining rocks start to dim as the water reaches my ankles.

In seconds, it is at my knees. I turn to run away, but the White Wolf touches me with Its nose.

Of its own volition, my body freezes.

My chest swells with panic as the Beast turns and walks away. I try to force some sort of sound out of my mouth, to call it back or cry out for help - but my voice is silent. Even as the water rises from my knees to my waist, and then to my chest. My mind races and as it reaches my throat, a silent scream tightens my muscles.

Just as the water touches my lower lip, I draw in one final breath and slip underneath the silky surface.

My eyes close and breathing stops. I wait for death to find me. And then I realize, there is no water around me any longer. In fact, there is a gentle breeze pushing my hair into my eyes. I cautiously open them, and my body relaxes into a breath as I look around.

I am no longer in the woods, but in a simple and mostly bare room. Only a small bed, a rug, and a full mirror to furnish the room with a window, resting about a foot above the bed, open a crack and letting in the gentle breeze. I can’t directly remember it, but there is some sense of familiarity to it, as if it is a place I’ve come to in a dream long ago.

A glance in the mirror confuses me. My gown is spotless and clean, and gently cradled in my arms is the Book. Impulsively squeezing it to my chest, I let myself sink into the soft, downy bed.

Coddling the book sends my mind wandering. Why am I being commanded to hold this foreign object so dearly to me? As if it is an actual part of me. Something I needed to preserve and protect with my life - because it is my life.

But it isn’t.

It’s just an old, dusty lump of papers.

My arms slowly loosen, and I lower it into my lap. Cautiously flipping through the coarse, yellowed pages sends my heart racing and my stomach churning. Even though my curiosity is peaked, some primal warning system awakens in me - I can’t shake the feelings of dread getting heavier and heavier the longer I let myself touch it.

In equal parts, I want to clutch it back to my chest or hurl it against the wall and never look at it again. But instead, I plunge onward.

Confused, I follow over the strange and unintelligible markings on the pages. The lines are twisted in nonsensical designs. At first glance, it feels like something a toddler would scribble onto a page - but the longer I stay, the more it feels like pulling myself away will be the most painful act I’ve ever attempted. And the more I realize the scribbles and lines have a deliberate design. The shaping of some lines, with thick and thin bits placed in strategic ways.

It was then I notice the titles at the top of each page.

The first one reads: Mom.

Seeing the word feels a bit like grasping at something just out of reach. I search and try to get a grasp of who my mother is and what she means to me. To get a feeling or a sense of what is supposed to be familiar to me, but isn’t.

As I turn the pages, there are different names at the top of each page, and each one raises more questions.

Dad.

Spouse.

Sibling.

Looking up brings a strange buzzing sensation, as if television static is in the background, getting louder and louder. It clouds my thoughts and hides my access to memories from my past, like trying to grip a wet bar of soap - the way it slips out of your fingers over and over, and the harder you try to grasp it, the faster you lose it.

I shake my head, trying to clear the noise, but it only gets louder.

And louder.

And louder still.

Pressing my hands to my ears, I stand and stumble backwards. A scream slips past my lips, but I can’t even hear it. Frantically, I look around and feel the urge to throw open the window and leap from it, in hopes the fall is high enough to kill me.

The door to the room flies open.

Without saying anything, a woman whose face I can barely see - because the sound is so overwhelming - steps furiously up to me and slaps me. My body feels as if the intensity of the static noise is going to crush me. The hand comes down and slaps me again, harder this time.

I scream again.

And then the fists begin to beat against me with furious intensity. With each strike, the static grows louder and louder until it is nothing but a high-pitched ringing in my ears.

The woman puts her hand around my throat and throws me against the wall. Instantly, the ringing stops and as the iron taste of blood fills my mouth, I sink to the ground in relief - in near pitch-black, I feel the forest floor beneath me once more. Panting sobs rise from deep in my throat.

What is this place?

Some purgatory?

What terrible things have I done in another lifetime to deserve this nightmare?

The still quietness of the forest is only disturbed by my breathing and sniffling. My mind reels with a million questions, and the only thing I am certain of - this place is unearthly and dreadful. Not even the most unforgivably wicked deserve to be here. The only thing to assure me the strange woman in the house from within the pond is real is the blood dripping down my lip.

A low growl rumbles somewhere and my body freezes as a shadow flickers in the corner of my eye, rustling leaves as it draws closer to me.

Before I can think, my feet are underneath me and sending me hurtling through the woods. Rain starts to pelt violently down from above and turn the solid ground into a slippery, churning mess of rocks, mud, and water.

Get out of here! A voice in my mind screams.

And I don’t know how, but I know never to stop.

The ground drops downward in a blinking moment, and my feet tangle as they come out from under me, sending me skidding into branches and rocks. I bounce and slide, the speed of my fall propelling me chest-first into a large tree at the bottom.

An immense Crack! echoes out, followed by a sharp gasp as the impact pushes every bit of air from my lungs before my body drops to the ground in a motionless pile of limbs. Pain radiates from my chest to my back and immobilizes me as I fight to pull air back into my lungs with short huffy breaths which feel like they expel more air than they bring in.

A cold sweat starts in my head and at the back of my neck, quickly spreading over my whole body and filling me with a numb determination as darkness claims my vision. The pressure eases and my breathing returns to normal. I move to sit up. When my hands make contact with the ground beneath me, a chill runs up my spine. This is not the forest floor anymore. The surface beneath me is smooth, cold, and hard - like glass. My fingers inch across until they find a seam, and then spread upwards and across in search of an exit. In dismay, I learn I am completely surrounded on all four sides by smooth walls with no way out.

Breathing quickening, I slap the walls with my open palms and scream, but there is no sound. Not even I can hear myself. It’s as if my voice has gone mute or my ears have been deafened.

Someone, please help me! My mouth moves with the words, but the sounds never reach anyone. As I sink to the floor in tears, a sound ever so faintly comes from without the room. Buh-bump. Buh-bump. Buh-bump.

A heartbeat.

Instinctively, my hand moves to my chest to feel my own and, to my surprise, the two heart beats are perfectly in sync… Because the sound is my heartbeat. But it isn’t coming from me. At least, not this current me, still trapped within this room.

So where is it coming from?

A roar gurgles up from the ground and the surroundings shake in its intensity. Pressing my hands to my ears, I crumple to the floor in a ball and squeeze my eyes shut.

Please just make it stop. Please make it stop. I beg over and over in my head, rocking back and forth.

But when I closed my eyes, I don’t see darkness.

Despite still feeling the confines of my prison, my eyes see independently - as if they are attached to another being over which I have no control. Through them, I see the forest again - and the thing my eyes are attached to runs at a wickedly fast pace. It feels as if a demon has crawled into my own body and taken it away from me, leaving my consciousness trapped here as it runs rampant externally… My view of the wood is tinted with an unearthly, angry red hue.

This can’t be me.

I try to force my eyes open again. But they stay tightly shut, as if they’ve been viced down. The external body moves so fast, by the time I notice the mysterious portal pond has come into view in the distance, it's already almost upon it. The being dive in, and white bubbles surrounded quickly until my vision is completely clouded with them. The strange room appears and there in the center of it stands a woman with her back to me.

A hoarse screeching laugh comes from the Monster outside the glass box, and then it pounces on her. I can’t see very well in the flurry of flying limbs, but her shrill screams still haunt me in my prison. My fists pound against the walls and I scream, begging for myself to stop and knowing fully well not even I can hear myself in here. Frantic tears stream down my cheeks when the screaming finally stops and the body lays motionless before the Monstrosity with my eyes.

My vision begins to fade back to the pitch darkness within the glass box once more. I sink to my knees in defeat as my skin creeps with frost, even while my stomach bubbles with liquid-hot lead, which churns as it sears my insides and slowly attempts to turn me into nothing more than a pile of ash.

Not existing anymore sounds nice.

But no. Instead, I am woefully alive.

I blink.

And the forest materializes once more.

“I can’t do this… I can’t do this…” I whisper to myself, curling my knees to my chest as I begin rocking back and forth.

My eyes move wildly and somehow settle on a fist-sized rock. Before I know it, I am snatching it up and bashing it against my head. Tears and dark terror cloud my vision. Over and over, the rock connects and as blood starts to trickle. Pain stings my face until I can’t think anymore, and whitens my vision. With every hit, I hope more and more it will be my last movement in this existence.

I stop, the rock still tightly nestled in my fist.

Blood drips onto the leaves, the only sound in an immensely quiet forest. A wave of calm begins when I feel the prickled tightness of my muscles begin to dissolve. It starts in my fingers and creeps up my arms, down my chest and washes over the rest of me until I feel completely numb.

My fingers loosen, and the rock falls. Dirt sticks to the wet blood on its surface as it rolls solemnly away.

With a gentle Plink! it pierces the calm blue surface of the water and draws my attention to the pond. The rock doesn’t disturb the glass-like surface of the water. In fact, the stillness seems to whisper in an attempt to lure me closer.

I crawl towards it slowly, letting my head peek over its edge.

A drop of blood rolls off my nose and slips into the pool. From it, a horrible black cloudiness starts, growing until it consumes all the water and renders it completely devoid of light. My reflection glares back at me, showing the bloodied and bruised mess of my face clearly in a disturbing distortion.

I sputter, leaping backwards and look up to see the dark hues of trees against a harrowing purple light on the horizon - barely enough to see anything but shadows - and a cold mist fracturing what little light is left, obscuring shapes into twisted distortions of themselves.

And out of the mist, The Dark Wolves emerge.

Their mouths are curled into vicious snarls, glowing red eyes like smoldering embers in the dim-light. They form a tight circle around me and close in.

The White Wolf emerges at the head of the circle and I freeze, all feelings dripping out of me as if I am being wrung out like a wet washcloth - my panicked breathing ceases instantly. The Dark Wolves move in closer and closer, but my eyes never leave the White Wolf. As they dig their teeth into my skin and rip me apart, I can’t scream or move.

Darkness falls as the teeth close around my throat.

….................................................................................................................................................................

A crackling sound and warmth against my face begin to stir me from my slumber, and my eyes open to a small campfire. My body screams in protest when I try to move, instantly igniting with fiery pain. Every inch screams in unison.

I groan and move my head slightly upward.

Right beside me is the Book.

Every part of me wants to slip back into a sweet and painless unconsciousness, but something primal pounds in my chest and pushes up into my throat until it reaches my ears, where it whispers with a coaxing intensity - Open It.

My hands shake, and I wince as my arm inches across the ground like a lethargic worm until my fingers curl over Its surface. Groaning, I weakly push myself up to sit and open it, my bloodied fingers staining it with every touch on the faded corners.

Inside is different this time.

Instead of the scrawl of twisted lines and assorted names or titles, there is nothing but the cream-and-coffee colored surfaces of the pages. All blank. I flip the book over and thumb through, back to front. A flash of color snaps into view as the pages tumble over each other. I stop immediately, flipping each page back individually until I reach it.

A picture of me.

Small letters printed at the top read: Charlotte.

With my index finger, I trace the name.

Instantly, my vision turns dark again and the uncanny familiar encasing of the box closes on me. But something is different. I can see nothing but flash after flash of memories and strange images. Despite the speed, I can see and feel every one of them and the impossible realization comes to me as it would if this were a dream.

These are my memories.

My chest tightens as the memories grow darker and more terrifying. Hurtful words and the expectations of others settle on my shoulders, a weight which feels familiar in its cruelty. With each new flash, it grows heavier until it has pushed me into the ground.

I struggle to draw in a breath and my eyes fly open. In exasperation, I hurl the book from my lap and into a tree, where it lands with a solid Thump! The pages sprawled wildly as it lands open-faced in the dirt. Even being back in the woods, the memories continue to flash in my mind’s eye, forcing themselves on me like terrible nightmares which I can’t escape even in waking moments.

My skin crawls from lack of oxygen and my body gives out, flailing me forward where I use what little air I have clinging in my lungs to release a scream - it echoes all around me for a moment and then the silence entombs me.

It’s as if my whole body is being assaulted with a lifetime of agony in a single moment. The heat from the nearby fire reminds me of its presence, and an all-consuming thought pounds frantically through me.

Destroy the book.

Curiosity doesn’t matter anymore. Something in my gut knows it’s the only way to make this stop. I force myself forward, inch by inch, spots starting to come into my vision as the dizziness sets in. My fingers curl around the spine of the book and I fight to lift my arm, using all the strength I have left to toss it into the open flames.

The instant the book touches the raging, hot center, it sputters and flares outward as huge puffs of dark green smoke billow up towards the treetops. The pages catch fire with a satisfying crackle and as each individual part turns to ash, with every passing moment the air returns to my lungs and the weight on my body slowly begins to lift.

But the memories never go away.

Their intensity doesn’t change or lessen. Yet, somehow, they become easier to watch. I can see the things happening without feeling the emotional responses to them. Once again, I felt the dark beast inside me start to fill up my body, but instead of seizing control, it only takes away my pain enough so I can move. Without even thinking about what I am doing or where I am going, I stand up and walk into the woods until I reach the pond. Somehow, I know where it is without having to really think. At the edge, I scoop up handfuls of the clean water and gently cleanse the blood from my body. Everywhere the water touches, my wounds begin to recede until I am completely whole again. Despite having no real knowledge this would happen, I feel no surprise - something in me knew.

The White Wolf emerges where It had been watching me from the trees, its face soft and kind. The Dark Wolves step out and stand attentively beside It, watching. No part of me feels threatened by their presence.

The White Wolf steps close to me and nods once. I sink to my knees and bow my head, where it softly presses Its damp nose to my forehead and blows warm breath over my face. My eyes close instinctively. Each Dark Wolf surrounding me turns up its head and unleashes garbled howls, one at a time, until finally the White Wolf joins their voices with a clean, clear howl. Their voices surround me and fill me with a calm reassurance, unlike any I’ve ever known.

When I open my eyes, I am on my knees at the edge of the woods and standing in the light of a brilliant pink-orange sunset. My frock is spotless, my hair is neat and clean. On the horizon, I spot a village nestled between the grassy knolls.

Home.

I sprint over the cool, long grass with the wind at my back propelling me forward. With every step, my strength and speed increases. By the time I reach the final hill, I am practically flying.

At the gates, I skid to a stop.

The walls surrounding feel like cages and the gates like traps - this is not the home I remember, yet something within me tells me it was always this way. Only now do I have the eyes to see it. As I walk through the town, the shadows grow darker and darker until I stand in front of my parent’s home. The door is ajar, and a cold darkness creeps from within it, as if the whole town is plagued and tainted by its mere existence — all things dark and evil come from it. Shaking, I climb the creaking wooden porch steps and push the door open further, stepping inside.

An awful stench of death stings my nostrils and as my eyes adjust, I see the silhouette of my father in his chair. As I approach, I can see the glassed-over look in his eyes and an empty expression. He stares blankly into the static television with a metal rod from his destroyed prosthetic leg jammed into his throat and blood dried to the front of his clothing.

I turn to see my mother’s chest spread over a board of chess, the pieces scattered everywhere and her blood dripping into a small puddle under her chair. There is a white pawn clutched tightly in her bloodied hand. I take the pawn from her and turn it over.

On the bottom, something is carved in scratchy letters: Charlotte.

Looking down, I notice there is also lettering on the chess board surface, hidden beneath my mother’s body and blood. Pushing her onto the ground allows me to read the inscription: Even a Pawn Can Win.

“You have played well.” I whisper to the pawn, before solemnly setting it down on the board in the position for the Black King.

I make my way up the stairs to my own room and find what I expect.

The room from the pond.

My room.

All around is nothing but blood, although the body of the woman I killed is gone - as I knew she would be. My final memories come into place, and I understand the woman whom the monstrous version of myself killed in the pond was myself.

However, the thought of this doesn’t hurt me, either.

In fact, a smile grows on my face.

And as I stand there, smiling in the fading darkness, the light of the setting sun finally breaks out of the clouds entrapping it and brilliant orange light fills the room through my window.

I am finally free.

About C.M. Wells

A Pansexual, Bipolar/ADHD, Satanist Witch with an insatiable desire to affect people through powerful stories. She is a wife and mother who currently resides in Auburn, Indiana. In her spare time, she cuddles cats, writes at her local gay café, and does mysterious rituals in the full moon. To learn more about C.M. Wells, you can check out her social media below.

Website: buymeacoffee.com/c.m.wel

Facebook: @cmwellsauthor

Instagram: @cmwells.author

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