Enchanted Dreams: Erotic Tales Of The Supernatural. Nancy MadoreЧитать онлайн книгу.

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      For Michael Hulbert, with my utmost gratitude and

      love for all the encouragement and inspiration, for

      putting up with me, and for so many other things,

      like slipping into characters’ heads for me and bringing

      them to life. I couldn’t have written this without you.

      The

      Enchanted

      Forest

      Catherine stopped again to catch her breath. She couldn’t believe how out of shape she had become. There was a time when she was always outdoors getting exercise, whether it was camping or playing volleyball or running. How long had it been since she’d entered a marathon? Lately, all of life’s many demands kept her busy running an entirely different kind of race. She couldn’t seem to find time for herself anymore. There was little enough time to sustain the barest existence. These musings caused a pang of anxiety to rise up in her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing her worries away. How had matters of basic survival come to absorb her every waking moment?

      But these were precisely the thoughts Catherine came here to forget. She had not suffered an anxiety attack in nearly twenty-four hours. She was determined to enjoy her brief escape from the rat race, if only for a few days. She tipped her head back and breathed in as much as she could of the crisp, cool air that surrounded her. It smelled of earth and life. She looked around then, suddenly aware of the strange silence. As her nostrils drank in the sweet and pungent aroma of the forest, her heartbeat could not help but slow down. The beauty and tranquility were having their effect. Why couldn’t all of life be this simple?

      Catherine picked up her overstuffed backpack and hefted it up onto her shoulder, resting it on the left side now because the right shoulder was beginning to ache. She felt another wave of annoyance at this reminder of how poorly things were constructed these days. The strap had broken within the first hour of her using it, unable to withstand the weight of her camping gear. She should have chosen a more practical pack, she thought, but she had been swayed by the colorful design—and the sale price—of this one. Besides, its bright orange-and-yellow pattern gave her a feeling of security, just in case there were hunters in the woods. Not that it was hunting season, but one never knew. But as it happened, she had not encountered anyone at all since setting out on her little excursion. There was a lonely, isolated feeling to the place that convinced her no one else was around. At first it was disconcerting, and she had been tempted to turn around. But it was not an overly exhausting hike to the campsite, and she was sure to find someone there.

      With her racing heart calmed, Catherine resumed hiking, but at a slower, more manageable pace. She was nearing a high point in the mountain and veered closer to the steep edge so that she could observe the views below. The trees were thinning out now, perhaps because of the elevation, and this made the sight even more spectacular. Clumps of trees gave way to fields of green, spotted here and there with patches of wildflowers.

      As Catherine gazed at the scene below her, she was once again struck by the curious silence surrounding her. Listening more intently, she noticed that there were actually sounds to be heard, such as the twitter of a bird or the rustle of a squirrel, but these seemed to blend into the background as seamlessly as the foliage. There were no conspicuous sounds, no noises that would indicate purposeful activity or any other synthetic clatter clashing with the natural progression of things. Catherine pondered this, marveling at the perfect harmony that seemed to exist among the plants and animals compared to the chaos associated with more intelligent beings.

      Even as Catherine was thinking these thoughts—ironically, right in the very midst of them—a bird suddenly flew out at her from a nearby bush, startling her. She lost her footing and, unable to catch herself, stumbled over the edge of the mountain. There was a split second of absolute clarity where she realized she was not going to be able to stop her fall, and in the next instant she noticed the thick, solid branch peaking out from beneath the fallen leaves that was rushing up to meet her. She only had time to perceive these things, not to react, or to move, or even to feel alarm. And then everything went black.

      Catherine opened her eyes and looked dumbly around her in utter confusion. Where on earth was she? Something was not quite right, yet she felt remarkably calm. She sat up tentatively, remembering the fall and aware that she had sustained injuries.

      The very first thing she noticed was that all of the forest—from the tiniest blade of grass to the tallest tree—appeared to be buzzing with life. She was suddenly struck with how curiously vibrant the colors were, and how pungent the aroma around her. It was almost as if the trees were speaking to her, even as the gentle wind rustled their leaves. Things seemed more distinct and noticeable than before. She wondered if she had suffered a concussion.

      As she observed the forest around her, Catherine had the oddest sensation that she was no longer alone. She looked more carefully at the plants and trees, scanning them for signs of life. But aside from the foliage, she saw nothing.

      She got up slowly, brushing off her shorts and checking for injuries. Her wounds appeared to be minor, as she was able to move about without suffering additional discomfort. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. She still had the impression that she was being watched. She called out, “Who’s there?” but there was no response. She wondered vaguely why whatever it was didn’t manifest itself. Yet for some reason, she still wasn’t afraid. In the midst of such radiant harmony, it was hard to conceive of any real danger.

      Her voice, when she had cried out, sounded foreign to her ears. Something about the valley she had fallen into called to mind the enchanted forests of her childhood fairy tales. She realized that she ought to make her way back up the mountain and find the trail, but she was captivated by the little forest nook and didn’t want to leave. What would it hurt to look around for a few minutes? Just off in the distance, she spied a field of brilliant colors that begged to be explored. She spotted her backpack on the ground nearby, and had half a mind to set up camp right there. Why should she leave this enchanted spot to set out for a public campground? This would be real camping, where she could open the flap of her tent without nudging a tent right next to hers.

      As Catherine considered this, she walked toward the field, surveying the area around her with a great deal of curiosity. A prettier campsite could not be imagined. There was a tranquility to the place that seemed to promise sanctuary. It had everything the public campground had except electricity and, perhaps, water. But even as this thought occurred to her, she suddenly perceived a very faint sound—so faint she could only just identify it as the sound of rushing water. As she followed the sound, she discovered with joy that it was, in fact, a waterfall.

      Catherine stared at the waterfall in amazement. It was just like something from an exotic island. She could smell the water as it exploded over the cliff’s edge. She approached it timidly, almost wary of its incredible magnificence. At any rate, she thought, she could wash the many scrapes that dotted her arms and legs in the sparkling spring. She removed her shoes and socks and tentatively dipped her toes in the little, churning stream at the bottom of the falls. It was cool but not cold, so she plunged her feet in. She bent down to scoop water over her bare legs. The flash of a silver trout