The next day I took a long walk through the forest. At about mid-day it began to rain, and I spent the next six hours trying to find my way back home, shivering and soaking wet. I finally found the forest's edge as dusk turned to dark, but I felt I was falling ill.

My fever slowly worsened. The doctor prescribed a bitter tonic to take twice daily, and reassured my mother that I was a strong young boy and would likely survive. I was heartened by his words, but all morning I saw faint shadows of people cast on the wall and heard whispers in the rattling of the wind against my bedroom's window frame.