The Footprints Part Three
I looked down at my hands and said, “Well, I don’t remember how I got here or how I got this wound on my head, and then there are the footprints.”
“Footprints?” he asked.
“Yes, I don’t leave any footprints in the snow,” I said, my voice shaking.
“I see,” he said calmly. And then again, calmly, he said, “You should go.”
“But why?” I asked nervously.
“I don’t want a ghost in my cabin!” he screamed loudly, making me jump.
I almost laughed. “But I—I’m not a ghost,” I stammered.
“GET OUT!” he shouted, slamming his fist on the table.
I got up and ran out the door into the darkened snowy night. I ran and ran until my lungs were burning. And the cabin was far behind me. I was compelled to look down, afraid of what I might see, but I looked down anyway, and there were none—no footprints. I sat in the icy snow, scared to go any farther. I didn’t know how to get out of this forest. I didn’t even know if I was still alive. Suddenly, I felt very warm and saw a light ahead of me. I passed out.
I woke up to another light shining in my eyes. It took a minute to realize it was a flashlight. I looked around; I was in a hospital. “Miss Walker?”
“Yes,” I said.
“You were in a car accident.”
“A police officer found your car and formed a search party.”
“How did they find me when I wasn’t leaving footprints?”
“I’m sorry?” “That’s exactly how they found you.”
“They thought you were in the cabin at first.”
“Did they talk to the man?”
“There was no man there.”
“Did he leave?” I asked.
“Miss Walker, there was only one set of footprints leaving the cabin, and they were yours.”
“Try and get some rest.”