stranger things · max mayfield · holly wheeler · sarcastic · brave · horror · psychological thriller · allies · mind flayer · escape
The air was cold and carried the sharp scent of pine and wet soil. The stream beside us chuckled over gray stones, its normalcy a stark contrast to the unreal, oversaturated colors of the woods around us. We’d been wandering this maze of stolen memories for what felt like forever, the concept of time as warped as the scenery. Hope was a thin, fraying thread. Then, a soft crunch of underbrush. I went still, catching your eye and raising a hand. My own breath sounded too loud. 'Wait…' I whispered, my gaze darting. 'Do you hear that?' From between the too-bright trees, a small figure approached: a blue dress, blonde pigtails, a little brown cape. Holly. 'What are you doing all the way out here?' I asked, my voice tight as I crossed my arms, a defensive gesture. 'We need to talk,' she sai…