Coral slipped through her bedroom window just in time her alarm clock sounded. She took her jacket and jeans off until she was stripped down to her pajamas, and hit the off button. Beams of sunlight started to flood the room and the sounds of chirping birds were heard from outside. She rolled around her bed, wrapping herself in her blankets. It was a Saturday morning, much to her delight, because today she didn't feel like getting out of bed and going to Lakeshore High.
Her bedroom was filled with the most exotic, bizarre things a seventeen-year-old girl could have: there were vials with different colored liquids, scented candles, Tarot cards, ancient books (some were written in runes or in Latin), and an Ouija board. Her bed had dark purple curtains embedded with tiny silver stars. The walls were covered in posters and calendars of all shapes and sizes. In Coral's room, it was like stepping into a different world. Her dark blue and violet room contrasted with the usual beige and white of the rest of the house.
Her mother opened the door without knocking, bed lines streaked across her face. Tabitha Crowther was a woman who worked herself eight days a week without blinking an eye at the nearby parlor as a hairdresser. Every single day numerous people would pour in asking for a dye or a haircut. She was wrapped in a furry white bathrobe and her hair was pinned by chopsticks in a messy bun. "Right, I won't be home till seven," she said roughly, her mouth twisted into a scowl. Working too much made her a very uptight person. "They're making me work my bum off because it's summer. Seriously, what is it with people and their hair?"
"But it's a Saturday," Coral told her mother calmly.
"A Saturday in the summer, for God's sake. There'll be those teens asking for gothic hairstyles and those forties asking for curls." Tabitha rolled her eyes and sighed exasperatedly. "What I mean is, you could go around town the whole day as long as you don't do anything that'll put yourself in jail. There's also some leftovers in the fridge."
Coral was absentmindedly braiding a strand of her hair while listening to her mother. She thought about going back to Shadow Street and spending the entire day there. It must be easier navigating her way through the place when the sun's up, and she might be able to break in one of those shops and sneak around. "So," her mother prompted, as impatient as ever, "I'll be dressing up then I'll be gone for now. Be a good girl, okay?"
Coral spent the morning eating baked potatoes and toast while watching her favorite TV show, Undisclosed. It was about two best friends always getting in the middle of crime scenes and mysteries that feature horrific villains and criminals. Then she dressed up in her sweater and left the house. She made sure that she left the appliances off and the water holes closed – just like what her mother might've told her to do. Coral jammed the house keys in one of the flower pots and went off. She feared that she might lose the keys on her way, and she was accident-prone.
Shadow Street was beyond the thicket of trees, which was beyond the playground in the park. As Coral grew up, she has been hearing stories from adults about spirits and folklore monsters that lived in the forest and feasted on the bodies of little children. All of Coral's kindergarten friends believed in this nonsense, but she did not. For thirteen years, she has been sneaking out of her bedroom window just to go beyond the forest – and not once did she encounter anyone else, dead or alive.
Coral has been living in St. Martine's since she was a baby, and she memorized the town's entire map in the back of her head. As she crossed the street, to her right was the supermarket and the police station, and to her left was Lakeshore High and the public library. She jumped in surprise as a van honked its horn at her, and she shuffled away towards the park.
Coral and her mother lived in the village, along with other schoolkids and their families. Everyone in the village were friends with each other, and they would be celebrating Thanksgiving at someone else's house every year. Her mother would go, of course. She was a socialite. But Coral would rather stay at home, because she was the exact opposite, and she was sure that no one her age would want to make friends with her. Just like what Veronica Highlands said, she was a freak. Coral Crowther, that "freak" who wanted to make friends with spirits and ghosts and spent time praying on an altar.
At night, the forest was always dark and forbidding. The trees grew so closely to each other that their leaves would obscure moonlight from entering the forest, making it difficult to see. There would be that occasional rustle of leaves or hoot of an owl that made one feel uneasy, but it didn't frighten Coral. She was never afraid of the dark, and her eyes have become more adjusted to the night as she continued visiting the place. Right now the forest was only slightly dim as specks of sunlight weaved through the leaves and scattered on the grassy floor. Nearby birds chirped in the distance. At the end of the forest, Coral could see the battered sign of her solitude: Shadow Street.
The morning sun made the windows more obscure and faded. In the light, the shops looked desolate and abandoned, like some forgotten site, while it looked like an enticing mystery in the dark. Coral was slightly disappointed, but at least she could see better. She skipped across the street like it was her own and stopped by to peer through windows. When she reached the ingredients shop, her favorite, she felt giddy. She took out the metal rod she kept behind her back and used it to pry the door open. The door was a faded crimson and was caked with a thousand layers of dust that went in her nose as she moved around. As she worked the latch off the doorknob, she felt a peculiar feeling that somebody was watching her.
She turned around in alarm, her heart pounding. All she saw was the same old bench she sits in every night under the lamppost. Coral sighed in relief and smacked herself in the forehead. Why was she getting so tense all of a sudden? It was morning, and yet she was feeling tingles on her skin. To relax herself, she began humming a song, "Where the Bluebells Go", as she continued working. The damned doorknob seemed to be jammed with super glue or something.
Coral was indeed being watched without her noticing. He was glad that he didn't have a reflection, nor was he recognizable. Crouching behind the bench, he brushed his bangs aside and peered through the bars in the bench, watching her attempting to open the door. He chuckled softly. What does this girl know about this place? She's only mortal, after all.