You blink a couple times, unsure of your surroundings. You are on a beach front, a orangey sunset over the bright blue water darkening your view. You can never remember being here, or how you got here for the matter, but it feels strangely familiar, as if it was just how you had, well, thought it up. You take a couple steps to your right and notice the rolling hills to your sides and behind you. A sign is lopsidedly placed on a white picket fence between rows of little red blotches on the grassy landscape. Walking closer again, you can finally read the sign. PICK YOUR OWN STRAWBERRIES. After a closer look, you can see clearly now the fuzzy red spots were, in fact, strawberries. Except…. Now the strawberries you had seen before, rolling right off into the distance, were suddenly sort of fuzzy, blurry, in a way, as if a mirage had found it’s way through the sharp breezes of this spring evening. You hug your shoulders, wishing it were warmer, for the Chelidonian winds had time yet to come. You can hear, or perhaps it’s not quite a sound, /feel/, a vague buzzing emanating from somewhere o’er the hills. Curious to find the source, you cautiously move towards the sensation. It’s getting darker by the minute, and you stop to hear a crunching of the sand. OKAY FINE DONT BLAME ME IF THE DESCRIPTION IS SLIGHTLY OFF OR IF I MISSED A BUNCH OF PINE TREES. IM GETTING THERE. IVE NEVER BEEN TO MONTAUK, YA KNOW. *coughs* I’m gonna go find the book and double check the description, and if you can see the trees yet, and then I’ll update this. I appreciate your patience.
