The view from the porch showing the sun slowly sinking is quite the sight, painting the sky in fiery tones and giving a wonderful, picturesque quality to the surrounding forest and lake, but I'm not sure I can really appreciate it at all. Far as I'm concerned, I feel like it might as well just be all gray. I'm not sure why I thought a vacation to the French countryside would help me see the good things in life, when all it's really done is remind me that the problems I have back home are still going to be there and I won't be able to have an answer for them. My job is horrible, my boss hates me, and honestly, I think my girlfriend hates me too. Why else would she suddenly have to take care of her sick grandmother precisely on the day I was flying to France, oh, and there just didn't happen to be any next flights she could have taken to catch up with me, either. Not like I really blame her, we probably would've been fighting a ton if she did come along. Even I can't deny that it's not working anymore... if it even worked in the first place.
With a heavy sigh, I head back inside the lakeside house that is now my lonesome home for a few weeks. While it is fairly well kept by the people renting it out, it is showing its age, and the rumors of it being haunted by a strange, ancient, shape-shifting spirit called Vocorix don't exactly do much to make walking through its halls at night any less tense. In fact, I could have sworn that when I first arrived here, I spotted some shadows moving around inside, even though I was told the place was empty. But as I make my way to the kitchen to prepare dinner, I am startled by a sudden meow. There, right in front of me, stands an adorable little kitten, traipsing up to me without a care in the world and starting to rub up against my legs, purring happily. Caught completely off guard, my terrible mood lights up just for a bit as I kneel down and start petting the kitten, even picking it up and cuddling it a bit. When I set it back down, it gives me a last chirp before trotting back off down the hall, and it's only when it disappears from my view that I realize that I was never told this place had a kitten. Is it a stray, or does it belong to someone else? Well, I suppose I can think about that a bit later.
For now, I grab some of the fresh bread I bought from the nearby village alongside some butter and cheese from the fridge for a simple dinner, with a glass of wine for a little something extra. It's nothing complicated, but at the same time, maybe that's exactly what I need right now... I can't screw this up, for one, and it tastes fine, which is nice. It's almost like I can actually forget about my troubles for a bit just because of a kitten and some bread, cheese, and wine. But of course, that doesn't last that long, and by the time the moon and stars are out, I'm firmly back in my funk. Figuring I might as well try and sleep, I slink off to the bedroom.
Stepping inside, a thought strikes me, and I kneel down and look under the bed. Sure enough, there, curled up into a ball, lies the little kitten, sleeping. Maybe I'll have to think about getting some cat food tomorrow, and maybe having an adorable companion could get me on the right track. It's at least something worth hoping for. But for now, I'm still firmly lodged in a mental low, and when I slump down on the bed, it seems like trying to sleep just won't be happening. Indeed, about an hour later, I'm still wide awake, marinating in my misery. In fact, it seems like it's just getting worse, and before long, images of me getting dumped on my return back home, then fired the next day fill my mind.
Before long, I can no longer hold back the tears. Then again, it's not like I'm trying, there's nobody here to hear me pathetically sobbing into a pillow anyway. Perhaps finally letting it out will help? But as I cry, I hear some rustling from... beneath the bed? And when I look up, through teary eyes, I can barely make out... a hand? What the fuck is this? Is... is this the ghost or whatever? It's just a hand, not even attached to an arm or anything. But the hand is just laying there on the bed, as if silently asking me to take it. Am I going to get dragged under the bed and devoured if I do that?
Everything in my head would be telling me to not hold the mysterious hand, but sad brains are taking over, and so, I reach over and take this hand in mine. It feels so soft and welcoming, and when it closes its grasp on mine, it's gentle, making no effort to pull or anything, just letting me hold it. For a moment, it's almost like I have some sort of anchor all of a sudden, even if this is almost certainly all in my head. Like, a hand is coming up from below the bed, that's got to be an illusion brought on by my tiredness or something. But then, I hear a voice from below the bed as well. "Are you feeling sad? Do you want to talk about it?" it asks, sounding like a young man, the tone quiet.