The Ecology Project
Pete: Just come with me, Jenna please come. Hey it’s nothing to be afraid.
Jenna: Oh boy I’m scared, this place . . .this place.
Pete: All your hallucinations . . .it started after you started reading that damn blog. I’m more scared of that blog than this place.
To behind the tall grass of my coven high
Come softly like the tingling breeze
Over the deep, you see the hollow heads
Swallow the breezy air of windy willow beds
Jenna: No Pete please let’s leave, it is all true, all what he wrote . . .the blog is true every word of it.
Pete: Heck, Jenna . . And how the hell you know who wrote that crappy blog . . It’s just another plain crazy brain anonymous wannabe, who knows it’s a guy or gal . . Might be your cat wrote it.
Jenna: Don’t blame crooked Sam, I love him dearly.
Pete: You can marry your crooked black cat . . .and believe me if you want more superstitions. . .black cats are evil.
Solemn but alert he looked onwards
Tall grass whispered a secret he wished to know
Over the deep, from far away he watched silently
Waiting, waiting, tail swishing because now he knew
Jenna: Oh the grass, see how tall . . This is pure crazy, look at that crooked tree there . . .
Pete: Not as crooked as Sam . . .hehe
Jenna: It’s a joke to you and don’t drag him in, believe me Pete, only this time please. I don’t want to do this.
Pete: If you don’t want, go . . . I will do myself. We have to submit the project report tomorrow. Ok here is the plan. I will collect the data and drop by your place in the evening. You type it and bring to class tomorrow . . .deal?
Jenna: That is not fair, I have to type it all!
Pete: Then stop complaining and come with me . . . You can leave if you will type the damn thing . . .I hate typing, it gives me cramps.
Lizards run on my mossy roots
Separate the grass and take a look
Come softly into my sacred rest
Weevils dine on my fallen leaves
Jenna: I’m shivering Pete it’s wet here
Pete: I’ll hug you, come close
Jenna: If this was another time I’d have hit your sleazy head, but now I’m totally into it, hug me Pete. . .
Pete: Say it again, it’s sexy . . Oh baby.
Jenna: Shut up and get going then, I want to be out of this place soon as possible.
Jenna: Pete. . .look at that . . .it’s the shrine, the shrine. . . No don’t leave me hug me tight. . .I’m scared.
Pete: What the heck, what shrine . . .you are hallucinating. Now you are crushing me, give me some air. . .you girl.
Jenna: It’s the shrine. . .
Pete: Ya it’s the shrine where your crooked Sam’s ancestors rest. Hail the holy goddess of cats!
Jenna: Be serious Pete you dumbhead, can’t you see it . . It’s the shrine he wrote about in his blog. . .
Pete: I see no shrine but a damn old tree . . Might be centuries old, hard ancient wood from the last century hehe. Come get going, start counting the lizards, frogs the bugs and whatever aliens you see around. I will collect some of them for the lab.
Come into my sacred wooden den
Listen to the grass rustle, listen to the flowing brook
Hear it all, it’s your calling back to the wild
Look into the corners of my light
Jenna: Quickly Pete, I can’t stand this place. . .are you finished collecting them
Pete: Not yet, I want to get one of those green spotted ones . . .I just saw one over here.
Jenna: What green spots. . .
Pete: I don’t know but it was beautiful. . .
Jenna: You can’t even admire a girl’s beauty, how the hell you know if a bug is beautiful . . .boys!
Pete: Hmm . . .if it’s a ladybug . .it is supposed to be beautiful.
Jenna: Oh I see . . .
Pete: Come on baby . . .even your crooked Sam will agree. . .
Jenna: You dick!
Pete: Oh so this is the girl who was trembling on my chest just a moment ago . . Looks like you grew balls . .hehe
Jenna: Stop the dirty talk . .now did you find your ladybug. . .
Pete: No need to find . . .it is right in the front of me . . . Your green polka dotted tee doesn’t go with your maroon hair.
Jenna: Pete! You was teasing me all the time, and mind you . . .my hair is not maroon, it’s dark purple.
Slowly they rose from their ancient slumber
They had a tale to tell and was eager to go
Dreamy nights when the groove was younger
They dreamed of starry skies laid on the snow
A tale of thousand wars fought on a vale of blood
Of countless swords which clawed into flesh
Of nightmares hidden behind the futile glory
A tale about souls who failed in their vain folly
Slowly they rose, they inhaled the fresh air
To cleanse the staleness of an age forgotten
Their curse was to end and it was to be forever
They knew the secrets now and they knew the lesson
The lesson they failed to learn in their time
How futile is all attempts at glory, how empty
The pure heart of willow wood taught them
Raised and enlightened, now they rose to teach
Jenna: Pete! look!!!
Pete: Heck! What is that? Is that a tree. . . No Jenna no . . . Oh the bugs. . .God save our souls . . .it’s the shrine. . .Oh my leg . . .
Jenna: It’s all true, they are coming after us . . .we are doomed, run Pete run, what are you doing, come!
Pete: I’m hurt, my leg hurts Jenna I can’t run, you go . . .I’m going to text for help, to Sam
Jenna: Peeeteeeeee you asshole, keep Sam out of this. And grow a brain you bugger, run . . .run . . Oh it’s coming . . No I can’t. .
Pete: Ah. . Jenna . .It’s not your cat you cottonhead . . I’m texting Sam . .that asshole from class. What in the fucking hell is coming after us. Where . . . I can’t see now, oh my leg . . Jenna are you there, I can’t see. . .
Pete went to collect data for our project. He was supposed to be back by 7.00pm. That is all I know, I don’t know what happened after that to Pete or his girlfriend, actually I don’t even know for sure if she is his girlfriend or not. The town is shell shocked and there is a search going on to find the missing couple. . .some people think they might have run away. . .but I know it can’t be Pete to run away, and what reason he got to run away from life. The police is still looking for evidence, I showed them the text I got from Pete. “WE WILLOW SHRINE SOS” I don’t know what it means. But showing it to the police is all I can do. I just hope they are fine . . .