I know these woods like the back of my hand.  Being one of the rangers around these parts, I’ve spent a lot of time taking in the beautiful scenery.  I could tell you God knows how many different stories about brawls I’ve broken up, kids smoking weed out here, and even reports of stalkers, just in this area alone.  

Okay, in all honesty, I haven’t exactly broken anything up, but I have assisted those who did.  I haven’t always been the best with confrontation, but I’m starting to get better about it.  Some of the guys would make fun of me for not being more forceful when it’s necessary, but that just wasn’t my scene.  

The forest surrounding Grady National Park wraps around at least half of the city.  We’ve always had plenty of bizarre rumors and such, dating back to long before the series of strange deaths, when I was just a toddler.  I suppose most small towns have their fair share of unsettling stories in their history.

Even over the years I’ve been a Ranger, people would go missing on occasion, or some freaked out tourists may claim they had seen some bizarre things.  Sometimes a dismembered body will turn up, which I have fortunately not been around for, as I wasn’t always able to handle the sight of blood too well.  Still, I could barely wrap my mind around what happened that day.

Granted, my mind wasn’t what it used to be.  The car accident, back when I was in junior high, not only left my heart heavy but changed me as well.  The truck that ran the red light, plowing into the passenger side of my father’s car, instantly killed my mother, left my father with his left leg, missing below the knee, and landed me in a coma.  

I came out of it a month or so later, but the damage to my brain took some time to repair.  While I was once a stellar student, on my way to bigger and better things before that wreck, the time it took for me to recover from my injuries, as well as my altered brain function, left me a shadow of the man I could’ve been.  

The loss of my mom, the dramatically altered parenting style of my heartbroken dad, and my inability to focus the way I used to, made life far more difficult over the following years.  My father was still a loving guardian, but we grew more distant over time.  I knew he was hurting, but I was too.  I just wish we could’ve remained as close as we once were after we shared such a devastating loss.  

Before the accident, we would take a camping trip at least once a year.  Considering that it was as we made our way back from that final vacation that our family was left in ruins, there wouldn’t be any more excursions out into the wilderness, or anywhere else, for my old man and I.  

Though that last trip had such an impact on my life, I still had so many fond memories of those happier times.  I think that’s why I ended up settling on this particular profession.  It may seem a bit morbid to some, as this is the same spot we used to frequent in my youth–the one we had only just left behind before the accident, but I couldn’t blame such a beautiful place for a tragic event.  

I still felt connected to it, in a strange sort of way.  Maybe it’s simply because it was the last place where I really felt content–where I felt whole.  Perhaps it was just my inherent love of nature, and being there made me feel closer to my mom, in a strange sort of way.  Yes, she died not far from here, but this was the last place I saw her smile–something that was always contagious.  

I like to keep moving, for the most part.  Some of the guys stick to specific areas, plus they’re a hell of a lot more sociable to the residents and tourists, but I like to take in the sights as much as I can while being left alone, if possible.  It’s a beautiful countryside out here, so there’s no shortage of spots to just immerse yourself in the wonder of it all.  

This one clearing, right next to the lake, where the waterfall from high above cascades into the rapids, has always been one of my favorites.  I couldn’t even tell you how many recordings I’ve captured over the six years I’ve been a Ranger, but I always find myself coming back to this place.  

Not to sound like I’m pushing aside my responsibilities or anything like that, but I’ve taken quite a few naps, leaning up against the base of the mountain, and just drinking in the ambiance.  Of course, as soon as I wake up, I end up having to find the nearest tree, as passing out next to rushing water has quite the effect on the bladder, but it’s a fair trade for the peacefulness of it all.  

It was after coming back to the waking world one day that I noticed it for the first time.  Many of the trees surrounding the clearing are ancient, wide, and tall, damn near reaching as high as the peak of the mountain.  While I shambled over to one of the more secluded trees, tucked away from any wandering eyes by the shadows cast by the rock formations above, I noticed the light of the setting sun reflecting off of something.  

At first, I almost thought someone was out there, shining a flashlight in my direction, exposing my draining bladder to the world, but I would be very mistaken about that assumption.  After taking care of my business, I wandered over to where the glow was coming from, immediately puzzled by what stood before me.  

This tree was a beast, its trunk as wide as my truck is long, reaching so high you could very possibly step right off the mountain and onto its branches.  Being one of the more imposing in this area, I knew it pretty well or was at least familiar enough with it to know that it wasn’t like this before.  

The simple, black, wooden door was recessed about a foot into it, the shiny, brass knob catching the light as the sun sank away behind the mountain.  It didn’t look painted if that makes sense.  It was more like the wood the door was constructed from was black, or possibly burnt.  I hesitantly ran my fingers across it, surprised by how smooth it was.  It felt like stroking a chrome-plated bumper, rather than a door that looked as though it belonged in a creepy, old house.  

It was that very thought that inspired me not to attempt to open it–the idea of some sinister mansion being somehow tucked away in the guts of an enormous tree.  I came close; though–wrapping my hand around the shiny knob, protruding from the bizarre entrance to God knows what, but after a moment, I let go.  

It may sound a bit nuts, but when I grabbed that knob, everything fell silent around me.  Being that the door was facing the waterfall, maybe about twenty or thirty feet from it, at that moment, it may as well have been twenty miles away.  It was as though some impenetrable wall suddenly formed around where I stood, blocking out the sounds of the rushing water, the wind gently brushing the leaves, and the cars drifting by on the interstate, off in the distance.  

Though I was quite curious about what may lie behind the door, I was feeling more unsettled than anything.  I just backed away from the thing as if it had me at gunpoint.  The further I got from it, the more my head cleared up, which was enough to convince me to head back to the station.  

During my walk, I was arguing with myself about whether or not to tell some of the other guys about this, while attempting to convince myself that I was just seeing things.  It’s not unusual for me to see strange things after waking up, my mind with one foot still in a dream and the other dragging it along in the real world.  

By the time I reached the cabin that we worked out of, I had shaken the whole thing off, deciding it was best not to give the guys a reason to look at me like I’m crazy.  It was still on my mind, of course: the unusual door as well as the way it made me feel, but that part only assured me that I was still half asleep at the time.  

A week or so passed before I went back out there to see no trace of the door, just the thick trunk and rough bark staring back at me.  I still felt a bit uneasy about dozing off out there, even if the absence of the bizarre entrance to something else convinced me of my suspicions about it not being real.  

It was probably a month or two after that day, that I would find myself face-to-face with it again.  It wasn’t as I patrolled, but as I headed home for the night.  The nearby highway that ran parallel to the waterfall was the second step in my usual return trip, after the back roads from the cabin to the wider, two-lane road.  

There wasn’t much traffic that night, so I kept an eye on the path ahead, and another thumbing through my playlists in search of music for the ride.  It was during that silence as I sought out my driving soundtrack, that I heard the screaming.  I practically skidded into the ditch as it caught my wandering mind by surprise so much that I jumped in my seat.  

I pulled over to the side of the road, next to the woods that would lead to that waterfall, hearing that muffled wailing again.  While I was reluctant to seek out the source of the agonized howl, I felt a strange sort of compulsion to pursue it.  Though I’m not one to look for a fight if I don’t have to, something inside me was begging me to check it out.  

I don’t want to come off like a coward or anything, but on any normal day, I try to avoid conflict like the plague.  Not this one, though.  I wasn’t certain how far into the woods the sound was coming from, but I pulled the heavy flashlight from the center console and headed directly into the forest without giving it a second thought.  

Though I was quite familiar with the area, it didn’t make sprinting between the trees with only the torchlight illuminating the path ahead any easier.  Still, the louder the screaming grew, the more I was certain I was on the right track.  

After about ten to fifteen minutes of forcing my quickly weakening legs onward, I cleared the denser woods that led to that clearing.  As soon as I passed through to where those thicker, far more ancient trees surrounded the cascading waterfall, the screaming fell silent.  It almost felt like it was some insanely realistic recording that ended the moment I set foot in that area.  

I panned my flashlight around the vicinity, desperate to locate the source of that pain-filled squeal, but there was nobody out there, not that I could see anyway.  It wasn’t until I stepped a few more places forward, passing by the first of the thicker trunks that I saw something that almost caused my fingers to lose their grip on my guiding light.  

The warm glow emitting from the cracked open door, recessed into that same enormous tree almost looked inviting at first.  There was only an inch of light peering through the opening, making me wonder if someone had meant to close the door, neglecting to allow it to latch all the way.  That was a theory that made sense anyway, even if the door itself made none.  

As I walked closer, my torch bouncing against my upper thigh as my arm swung limp beside it, I felt that same bizarre sensation of walking into a tunnel.  Just as it had before, the sounds of the rushing water and wind sweeping through the branches drew further away with every step.  When I stopped right in front of the thing, it was as though I had my head was dunked in the lake, with pillows strapped around my ears.  

The world felt so far away from where I stood, my body beginning to slightly spasm from the cold and eerie grip of that warm hue, leaking from within.  Before my mind had a chance of grasping what my body was doing, my palm pressed against the slick wood, nudging the entrance open a little more.  The hinges squealed like a mouse caught in a trap, as the glow from whatever lay within that tree grew wider and wider, tracing my shadow across the autumn leaves behind me.  

While I couldn’t make out the sound of the rushing water to my back, the further the door swung open, the more I could hear the rapids on the other side.  The vision of that same riverbed I had slept next to more times than I can count, caused me to turn my head to ensure the one behind me was still there.  Sure enough, that very waterfall was both behind and before me as I stood in front of that splayed open entrance.  

When that same scream echoed from somewhere beyond the threshold of that ancient tree, my somewhat reluctant instincts took over for my absent mind at the time, speeding me into the foreign and eerily familiar landscape.  As soon as I passed through, darting my head from side to side in search of whoever may be in trouble out there, the sudden, jarring sound of the door slamming shut almost caused me to leap out of my skin.  

Glancing back to see a white door, recessed into the tree, with the same, brass knob protruding from it, I almost forgot what had inspired me to enter.  Again, I moved closer, back the way I came, hearing the ambient sounds of my new location fading further away.  Though the screaming met my ears again, it was far more muffled than the last, taking me a moment to register.  When the distant ‘help’ joined the wailing, though, I finally snapped my senses back to the situation at hand.  

With the terrain being so familiar to me, I began to head to the left of the waterfall, where a trail should lead up around the side of the mountain.  It wasn’t until I almost ran straight into the wall I would often rest against, that I understood in what manner this place differed from the one I left behind.  

After studying the flat, rocky surface for a moment, I made for the right–the opposite direction from the one I was more familiar with.  Every west I knew was an east here, like a mirror image of the world I left behind.  Though I wanted to dwell on this more: to unlock the mystery of my puzzling location, I had no time to waste with whoever provided that scream moving further away by the second.  

Everything I veered around as I ran as quietly as I could in pursuit of the source of that agonized wail was so familiar to me, but so foreign at the same time.  Even the steep, uneven and winding path turned in the opposite direction I was used to, but not in a way that caused me to stumble or slip.  

If anything, as bizarre as it may sound, I felt as though I could close my eyes and find my way around without a second thought.  Perhaps it was nothing more than the way our mirror image is the one we know, as opposed to how we look a little off in pictures or recordings.  We can never truly look upon our own faces, not the way others can.  

These thoughts and realizations didn’t fully form in my mind until I ran into another clearing, near the midway point in the trail.  It wasn’t as much the shrieking woman who looked to be in her late teens, or early twenties, being trussed up to the tree.  It wasn’t the three other scattered bodies, two male and another female, bleeding from various wounds either.  The man who was tying the rope around the screaming girl, however; he inspired me to stop in my tracks.

“I thought this might be enough to grab your attention,” he said, my own voice sounding unnervingly confusing to my ears.  

I had no words of my own to offer the man with the exact same facial features as me.  Everything about him was like I was gazing into my reversed reflection, down to the scar across my right eyebrow, his being on the left.  

The uniform he wore, down to the scuffed-up belt buckle, was the same as mine, just a slightly darker color scheme.When he smiled, raising the left side of his mouth a little higher than the right–again, mimicking my mirror image, I felt the blood drain from my face, my head spinning from this bizarre sight.  

“I wasn’t gonna hurt her,” he said, a shrug accompanying his familiar grin, “not until you got here anyway ” 

“NO!” I yelled out, my quivering legs attempting to push me towards him, as he unclipped my father’s pocket knife from his belt.  

I couldn’t even hope to close the gap between us by the time I convinced my trembling extremities to move, before he flipped open the blade, digging it into her chest.  Blood streamed to the forest floor as he turned it from side to side, gaping the wound wider as he twisted his wrist, the woman only moaning as she had no strength left to scream.

My legs burned and my heart beat like a stampeding herd as I drew close enough to tackle him, taking us both to the ground.  

“Wait!” he barked, his words stopping short as my fist met his jaw, causing us both to recoil from the hit.  

I tumbled to the side of him, wrapping my hand around my swelling jaw, while he did the same.  After a moment, we just started at one another, with his whimpering victim falling silent.  It was at that moment that I fully understood the gravity of the situation, while we both wiped the blood from our split lower lips.  

“What the hell are you?” I asked, gasping for breath.  

“You don’t recognize me?” 

“That’s not an answer! What…the hell …are you!?” 

He cut his eyes from me to the scattered corpses on the grass, to the lifeless woman with blood still trickling from her chest and mouth, and back to me again.  

“I’m your better half,” he said, a sinister smile reaching across his lips.  

This was the first moment in which I couldn’t see myself in his face.  His piercing gaze seemed to darken, as he bared his teeth in a way that made him completely foreign to me.  

“I won’t let you go…I won’t let you…”

“What, exactly?” he said, the smile fading from his face, “you won’t let me kill again? Is that what you think? How are you gonna pull that off? You can’t hurt me without hurting yourself, even your stupid ass can figure that much out.”

“You got some freaking nerve! How exactly am I any dumber than you!?” 

“For one: you think you can reason with me, or stop me from being what I was born to be.  Two: I was always the better part of us.” 

“What the..?” 

In that second, the puzzle pieces fell into place, as though a veil was lifted from my eyes.  Though it was not easy to deny facts that I was quite literally confronted with, I refused to accept what he was implying: that it was he that I lost in the accident that stole my mother from me and my dad.  

“We’re all two parts, buddy,” he said, interrupting my reeling thoughts, “one good, one…well, not so much…” 

The doctors told me that my brain was damaged in that collision–that I lost a part of myself, but that couldn’t have been literal, right? We’re not two physical beings, trapped in one fleshy husk! 

No, I wouldn’t believe it.  There was no part of me capable of doing what he did.  My whole life, I’d never so much as hurt a fly; not if I could help it.  Though I wasn’t the sharpest kid in high school, I never mocked or insulted anyone.  My teachers would practically brag about my behavior to my dad, even if that was to soften the blow of my grades not being the best.  

I had, and would never hurt…wait…that’s not quite true, is it? Yes, I was smart in junior high and kindergarten–gifted, my teachers would even say, but that’s not all I was, was it? I was egotistical, arrogant, and cold.  I treated my popular friends well while pushing around the smaller and less fortunate kids.  

I was a bully.  

“You’re getting there,” my reflection said, that unsettling grin breaching his lips again.  

“I…I like who I am…I like who I am, without you,” I said, the weight of my former self weighing heavily on my conscience.  

“Ain’t about what you like more,” he said, walking closer, “neither of us can be right until we’re whole again.” 

“Back the hell off!” I shouted, drawing my heavy flashlight like a sword.  

“You wanna stop me, don’t ya…only two ways that can happen…” 

“I’m serious! Back the…”

“ONE: you can beat me senseless with your little toy there, and hope to God you can end me before you bleed dry yourself…” 

“You’re not….”

“TWO: you can let me back in…you can let me come home…”

“Never,” I said, shaking my head in denial, “I’ll never let you in.” 

“Ain’t like you’ll go around, snuffing folks out when we’re whole again,” he said, tossing our dad’s pocket knife to the ground, “I’m only like this ’cause I’m undiluted…got no happy, happy thoughts bouncin’ around the old noodle.  It’s the same reason you’re such a FUCKIN’ PUSSY! You’re all sunshine ‘n’ rainbows, y’see…ain’t got no black blood pulsin’ through you…” 

I felt the tears streaming down my face, both in denial of facts I was still fighting to deny, as well as what I may have to do to prevent him from getting what he wanted.  

“Time to make a decision,” he said, hunching over as drew closer, spreading his fingers like a cat about to pounce, “LIVE OR DIE, LITTLE BOY!” 

With that, he charged me, tackling me to the ground as I had to him only moments earlier.  As we rolled on the dead leaves and grass, he thrust his fist into my gut, causing us both to cough and buckle from the impact.  My elbow struck his chin, jarring my jaw so hard, I feared I had broken it.  

We continued like this until we were equally as bruised and bloody, each of us wincing from every blow we traded.  By the time I pushed myself back from him, back in the direction I came from, I hadn’t even realized how far we had tumbled while we waged our battle of self-injury.  

I pushed up from the bumpy ground, my head spinning so much that I didn’t realize that it was not my dizziness that made my equilibrium so offset, but the steep slant I was next to at the time.  

“No!” my doppelganger screamed as I lost my footing, leaving me tumbling down the uneven path.  

It almost felt like I was moving in slow motion, seeing my own, anguished face yelling out as his arms reached for me.  I can’t say whether it was my back meeting the slanted ground, or the other me leaping into my midsection that felt more jarring at the time, but before I knew it, the two of us were tumbling down that hill, sharing more wounds as we bounced from rocks to dips in the path, over and over.  

How long we careened from one object to the next as we poured like a poorly choreographed avalanche down that hill, I couldn’t even tell.  When our descent finally came to a close, mud, dirt, and leaves pasted to the sticky blood leaking from God knows how many places on my body, I found myself just lying there, gazing up at the moon, shining down from above.  

My conscience wavering, every inch of my broken body screaming in agony, my eyes fell shut, sending me once more into blissful darkness.  

I can’t say if it was the ominous, humming sound, or my body being dragged across the ground that shot me back to consciousness, but my vision was still blurry, at best.  With the still uncertain condition I was in, I hadn’t the strength or ability to fight against the hands gripped under my arms, pulling me from the spot where my fall came to a close.  

“Stay with me,” a gentle, feminine voice spoke–one that felt so familiar, and so distant at the same time, “we’re almost home, baby boy.” 

When my eyes finally registered the now violently shuddering tree, with the white door forming cracks in the trembling wood, my already thundering heart sank with the possibility of my way home crumbling apart before me.  

When the hands slipped free from around me, my bones clicking and crunching as I attempted to face the one who brought me this far, I heard the hinges of that ancient door swinging open.  

“You have to go the rest of the way on your own,” the voice said, “I can’t follow you through.” 

My eyes finally met those I had first seen in this world, the distant and forgotten memory of that moment, shooting forward from the depths of my subconscious.  Fresh tears blended with the thick blood, crusted to my cheeks, my chest burning from this wondrous vision.  

“Go!” she said, glancing from me to the door, “you have to go, baby boy…there’s no time!” 

While my fractured heart begged me to stay, my weary and agonized shell fought to push me free of the hard ground, a warm hard cupped around my split and swollen face.  

“I’ll see you again, my love,” she said, her lips forming that playful smile I adored since I formed my first thought, “but not yet…” 

I found myself standing on my own two feet, the shuddering, open door to my back, and the dark sky splitting like a sheet of heavily tinted glass.  

“Not yet,” my mom said, as the world around us crumbled apart, my body falling weightless through the opening to the one I belonged in.  

•

My eyes sprung back open, uncertain of when they had closed, with my back pressed to the glass and dirt.  I sat straight up, running my fingers across my face in search of injury, only meeting my stubble in the process.  

The ancient, wide tree stood before me, with no trace of a door in sight, only the centuries-old bark, with the moonlight accentuating its hardened texture.  My senses still reeling, while my mind fought to recall where I had just been.  Ultimately, after understanding that I was only recently on my way back home, after a long day at work, I headed back in the direction of my truck, hoping it was still by the road where I left it.  

The next few days came and went in something of a haze.  There were reports of some missing college kids: two male, and two female, but there was no sign of where they went.  Though the memories of my time behind that door took a while to fully reform in the back of my mind, it’s not something I could really explain to anyone.  

Not only did I not want people to think I was nuts, but I wasn’t about to tell them what, or who had abducted the four who went missing.  While the man I was before following the path they ended up taking may only be half of the one who came back, I won’t be held responsible for what my sentient darker half did.  

Once upon a time, my conscience would have been crippled beneath the weight of those deaths, but my more recently reclaimed, logical mind understands that it wasn’t truly my fault.  It was as he, well, I said, ‘that he was the undiluted version’, after all.  

Whether it was that fall that linked us back together or the actions of the one who saved me from being lost in that place, I suppose I’ll never know.  It is quite amazing though, the feeling of being whole again for the first time in years.  

I still don’t fully understand how I came back to this side with none of the injuries I received there.  Perhaps it was more the split parts of my soul who faced off in that bizarre, mirror world, rather than the physical form of my fractured body.

While that doesn’t fully explain the missing teens, I suppose I’ll never have all the answers to what happened that night, nor what truly occured after that collision that ripped my family apart.  Life goes on, regardless of any of that, when all is said and done.  

 Though I’m planning to start taking some night classes, to finally earn some sort of degree, I don’t plan to quit being a Ranger.  I love my job, which is something that both sides of me can agree on.  I suppose I just have something of a need to prove to myself that my brain is working as it used to before I ended up with quite the literal split personality.  

Don’t worry, I don’t have any desire to stalk and murder anyone, well, not entirely.  I have a few urges I didn’t have before, but I’m certain it’s nothing that I can’t control.  Yes, I’m a little more broody than I was not so long ago, but also a good deal less cowardly, so that’s something at least.  

 Whatever happens from here, I will neither be taking naps on the job nor revisiting that spot by the waterfall, if I can help it.  One thing I learned from all of this, is that there’s far more to being content, than being happy.  It’s not all sunshine and roses, but that’s life.  

You have to take the bad with the good, in the end.  One cannot exist without the other, after all.