Chapter Two — The Artist in the Woods

Noah hadn’t meant to come looking for him. Not really. He told himself it was just curiosity, just a walk. But somehow, the winding trail behind the market had led him deeper and deeper into the woods, where the trees stood closer together and the air felt thick with watching.

The directions the old lady gave him were vague:

"Follow the path until the ground turns soft. Keep left when you hear water. You’ll find his cabin where the forest gets quiet."

The forest was never quiet, though. It whispered.

Leaves rustled when there was no wind. Branches creaked like old bones. Noah’s sneakers sank slightly into the mossy ground, and for a moment, he felt like he was walking through a dream again — the one with the moonlight and the boy.

A splash of color broke through the green ahead.

He froze.

There it was.

A small wooden cabin, half-hidden by overgrown vines and shadow. The porch was covered in canvases — some blank, some alive with color. Bottles of paint sat uncapped, brushes poking out like tired flowers. Music hummed softly from inside, some instrumental piece that sounded like rain and aching.

Noah stepped forward and knocked once.

No answer.

He raised his hand to try again — but the door creaked open slightly before he touched it. Just a sliver.

"...Hello?" he called softly, eyes darting to the trees. "Uh… I’m looking for Eli?"

Silence.

Then a voice, low and rough like it hadn’t been used in days:

“You’re standing in the dream.”

Noah blinked. “What?”

The door opened wider.

And there he was.

The boy from the painting.

In real life, Eli Voss looked even more surreal. His dark curls were messier, like he’d just woken up. A smear of blue paint streaked his cheek. His eyes — grey, sharp, and tired — studied Noah like a puzzle he wasn’t sure he wanted to solve.

“You were in it,” Eli said again, quieter now. “The forest. The moon. You were standing exactly where you are now.”

Noah took a small step back.

“I— You painted my dream. That painting at the market—”

“I didn’t paint your dream,” Eli interrupted. “I just paint what the trees whisper.”

They stared at each other for a long second. Noah’s breath caught in his chest.

The moment broke when Eli stepped outside and pushed a canvas toward him.

“This one came last night,” he said. “Take it.”

Noah looked down.

The painting showed him again — this time asleep, headphones still in, a small smile on his face. But there was something else. A faint shadow behind him. Something dark, watching.

“…What is that?”

Eli tilted his head. “That hasn’t happened yet.”

And then, without another word, Eli turned and closed the door.

What a freak?!

He couldn't hold his curiosity so he looked through the window

Something about him felt like a dream Noah had once.

Something about him made the air hold its breath.

Noah didn’t mean to make a sound — but a twig cracked under his foot. And was forced to run.

Noah was trying to recall where he has seen him before..well maybe not in person

But he knew it.

He knew it.

🌘 End of Chapter Two