My eyes were sharp, honed in on the thin, tick tick ticking hand on the clock. I stood up and slung my bag over my shoulder as the bell screamed down the halls. The familiar sound of paper rubbing against itself and binders being stuffed into backpacks droned behind me as I stepped out of the classroom.

“Wait,” Mr. Harris said firmly, stopping me in my tracks. “I'm still waiting for you to tell me what you’ll be writing about Donny.”

“Well, uhh- you see,” I fumbled my words, trying to find an excuse. “I - I’m keeping it a secret,” I declared with false confidence.

“Ahhh, a man of mystery I see,” he joked, smiling. “Well, rough drafts are due tomorrow so come prepared with a printed copy..” His voice faded off as I made my way to the wide entrance of the school. Pushing through the heavy doors, revealed the open sky, overcast with grey clouds. The mountains loomed over the buildings and vibrant sea of greens, yellows, and reds that rippled along the treetops. I walked home alone, as usual. Ever since the accident most of the other kids stayed away from me. Every now and then I’d catch them whispering and glancing over. Cracking jokes or spitting out insults like bitter tea. I shook my head and took a deep breath. Letting my mind wander like a leaf in the wind. I needed to write a true story about my life by tomorrow. But how could I? Nothing I've done is worthy of a story. I was so done analyzing my life for anything I could use as content. No one wants to hear about your dead parents, and that's about all the notable life experience I have. That’s when it came to me—if I don’t have a story to write about, then I'll make a story I can write about.

After another half hour of walking, I finally made it. Two stout pillars sat peacefully on either side of the trail. Odd symbols carved deeply into the stone. The trees and shrubbery beyond formed an emerald tunnel, calling for someone to discover the things beyond. My parents would take me here every weekend to play in the fields. I hadn’t been back since the car accident. The crisp wind licked my heels as I started down the path. Surrounded by fluorescent flowers and buzzing birds, a wave of tranquility filled me. Before I knew it, I'd forgotten all about my story, pacing forward calmly. As I turn an unnaturally sharp corner in the tunnel, I notice a white mouse skittering across the forest floor. I watched him scampering to the right of the path curiously. That's when I notice the small break in the shrubbery, just big enough for someone to crawl into. Not thinking much of it, I stood up, preparing to continue moving down the path. Suddenly the mouse cocked it’s head, looking dead at me. My heart skipped a beat. “What does it see?” Then it turned toward the gap and began scratching its way down the path. I felt conflicted. “What should I do”? I asked myself. Then I remembered why I was here.

“Ahhhhh, fuck it. Let’s go make a story!” I grinned, dropping onto my hand and knees and ducking under the brush. The grass was soft and lush beneath my knees. I could still see the little mouse hopping over twigs ahead of me. Oddly, the brush that formed the tunnel was not as easily seen through as the rest of the path had been. Yet, at the same time, it gave way to soft beams of light that illuminated the particles in the air in tight cones. “I guess the clouds are clearing up,” I thought, pushing forward. The brush gradually grew wider providing more space. Soon enough, I was walking upright towards a clearing. The shrinking tunnel seemed oddly dark. I breathed deeply as I walked into the clearing. The clear blue sky welcomes me with open arms.

“Where am I?” I asked myself, stunned by the sudden change in atmosphere. I looked around at my feet and realized I didn't recognize any of the hundreds of pastel flowers poking through the dirt. Walking towards the edge of the clearing I noticed that the oak trees had vibrant streaks of purple in the cracks of the bark. Then it happened—thousands of brightly colored apparitions bounded from behind the trees in the form of dogs, cats, deer, and other woodland animals. Startled at first, I fell back onto the grass. As I calmed down I could feel their energy seeping into me. They leaped into the air, even flying above the treetops. Long trails of aurora borealis hung in the sky. It was all so unreal. As I stood up, one spirit stumbled over to my feet with his head low. As he curled up to my feet I could make out a small collar with a metal dog tag. He seemed lonely. As if he was looking for someone he’d lost many years ago. I leaned down to pet him and as I made contact with his cold form, all the apparitions blurred into smoke as they were sucked behind the trees once more.

I sat there for a second. That moment was so powerful and pure. What had I just experienced? My eyes lit up as I pulled out my journal and jotted down everything that had happened to the last minute detail.Then I read over my story and I realized one fatal flaw.

“No one is ever going to believe this,” I sighed, shaking my head. How was I supposed to prove what I saw was real? I thought back to all the supernatural TV shows I had watched as a kid and concluded that there must be something physical linking all these spirits to this area. Peeking around the tree at the edge of the clearing seemed to be daunting. There was too much forest to search. Then I saw it. A rusty half circle protruding from the dirt behind the tree. After digging in the dirt for a while, I finally pulled out an old dog collar. I squint at the crusted orange metal tag to make out the name… Rusty. “How fitting,” I laughed to myself. It made sense now. The poor thing must have gotten separated from his owner years ago. If I take this with me, maybe I can show Mr. Harris that everything I wrote is true. But, at the same time I could be damning this dog's soul by displacing his collar. I sat down with my back against the tree, stumped by a decision I’d never imagined I'd have to make.I stood and pondered the collar in my palm for a second, then, decisively, I pocketed the collar.

Mr. Harris gave me a smile as I dropped my story in the basket. After about an hour, he decided to share one of our stories with the class. And, lo and behold, he picks up mine. His voice wavered as he got to the end.

“Umm, you are aware that this is a non-fiction assignment, right?” He joked as he dropped the paper on his desk. “Donny, I’m gonna need you to talk to me after class.” The classroom grew quite.

“It’s all true though, I swear!” I shouted suddenly, standing up. All eyes were now on me.

“Well then, would you like to invite your spirit friends to join us in class next time?” Everyone started laughing. As always, I was the butt of the joke.

Anger and embarrassment bubbled in my chest like lava. I’m done being the outcast. I’m done being looked at as “the orphan.” I’M DONE. Just then the collar in my pocket grew hot to the touch.

“Here!” I shouted confidently, holding the collar up high. “This is my proof!”

Giggles bounced across the classroom. Something had to happen now or everyone was going to think I was crazy.

“Donny, it’s a nice story, but a dog collar is not going to convince me that you met a ghos—” Before Mr. Harris could finish his sentence the apparitions burst from the collar, filling the room with otherworldly light and the melodious sound of wind chimes. Some screamed, some cried, some even laughed, but most just sat there with their jaws dropped, stunned. After that everyone wanted to talk with me.

A lump sat in my throat as I knocked on the heavy door. After a few seconds, an elderly woman with curly white hair opened the door with a pleasant smile.

“How can I help you today young man.” She asked with a slight whine in her voice

“I was hoping I could help you,” I said nervously, “I found this the other day,” holding out the collar “the address led me here.” Her eyes lit up like stars as she realised what she was seeing.

“Please come in” she grinned as she pulled open the door. Hours passed as we chatted about old times and sipped mellow cups of tea, I realized I no longer felt alone. Even if I’d never be able to see my parents again, I knew they were looking down on me, proud of what I’ve become. And eager for good I can bring to this world if I just care.