“Daddy, what is that?’ Curiosity leaped out of me, and I ran towards the wide glass window that covered an entire wall in the dark gray family living room. I stood right in front of the glass, my heavy breathing from the 40 foot run creating a film of fog, blocking my view. Using my sleeve from my hoodie to wipe off the fog, I peeked into the dark distance of the backyard. I swear I saw something. I swear I saw a creature, and it was like no other. It wasn’t like the giraffe or the elephant I had seen in my school workbooks. I peered into the distance, creating a trail of fog as I walked side to side with my face inches from the glass, but all I saw were glimpses of the trees and bushes, lit by the full moon. A few minutes passed, and I started to feel drowsy. I pulled my phone out of my pocket. 12:36 AM. Sighing, I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hands. I needed to go to sleep. Taking my hands off of my eyes, I suddenly stood face to face with a creature. My stomach dropped, and so did my phone. My legs felt weak, and I collapsed onto the floor. I frantically crawled backwards, unable to take my eyes off of the terrifying yet beautiful creature. The creature stood in such a still and quiet stance, it looked like a statue. It had the antlers of a deer, the face and upper body of a human, and the muscular legs of a puma. Burgundy colored scales covered the creature, and the creature locked eye contact with me with its pitch black eyes. It’s long nails reached out towards me, and just as I was about to gather myself and run upstairs to my room, the glass broke. The creature smirked.  

The Salem creatures started appearing the day of my 5th birthday. With the strange human and animal body with feminine features, covered in eerie textures and colors, the media named the creatures Salem, as if they were women from the Salem witch trials that had somehow risen from the dead and transformed themselves using their magic. They roamed the earth like it was theirs ever since. After encountering the Salems several times after my birthday, my father had decided that he could not take this anymore. He left a month after my birthday, disappearing in the darkness to find a new safe home for our family. I refused to let him go, but he promised, he swore that he would come back. So through shaky breaths and trembling hands, I pinky promised him that if he didn’t come back when I was a big 16 year old girl, I would go out and bring him back home. 

“Okay honey,” my father had said confidently, giving me a kiss on the forehead. Wandering off on his own with a backpack full of enough food and water for a week and the largest knives that we had in the kitchen, I prayed to the full moon that I would see him again. 

11 years later 

“Happy 16th birthday Nova my love,” my mother kissed me on the forehead and wiped away my tears. I hated birthdays. It was another reminder of how many years had passed since my father had left. I laid in my dad’s bed, sobbing as I smelled the sheets that still somehow smelled like his forestry cologne. I missed him more than anything. And I know my mom did too. Late at night, I could hear her trying to mask her sobs, sitting in front of my dad's room. Now that I was 16, I needed to fulfill my pinky promise. That night, I stuffed a backpack with small knives, water, and food. I left my mom a note on her door, and finally, for the first time in years, stepped outside. 

I took in a deep breath. I hadn’t gotten a breath of fresh air in years. The cold air took me by surprise and I shivered, wrapping my jacket tightly around me. At first, my steps were slow, wary and careful. But time passed by, I grew impatient of being afraid of what was out there in the wild. If I wanted to find my father, I had to move quickly. Weaving through the trees and the bushes, I walked deeper into the forest in the backyard. I didn’t know where it would lead me. One part of me was terrified, another curious. After several hours of walking, I had almost given up. That was until I saw a hint of purple in the distance. 

The media had always said that after the apocalypse, the outside world was filled with nothing but dark and muddled colors. But as I looked into the distance, I knew that wasn’t true. Following the glimpse of my favorite color, I picked up my pace, not caring about the branches and thorns that scratched my ankles. As I neared the purple color, I saw something that I wish I hadn’t. 

The purple color I had seen was a path of purple flowers. The flower was similar to a dandelion, it’s fuzzy texture being shown through the fascinating illumination from the inside of the plant. Around the flower were eye-catching blue, red, and green leaves and plants, following the path that the purple flowers had created. The purple flowers lay in two parallel lines, creating a path that lead me straight to—a man.

“Excuse me?” I whispered, afraid to get any closer. The man was hunched over in front of the tree, which marked the end of the flower path, seeming to be focused on a task. His clothing was torn to rags and dirt was smeared all over them. He started twitching, and turned around to face me. 

“Look, I planted these flowers just for you.” It was my father. I gasped and ran towards him. I wanted to hug him more than anything. What had happened out here? As I approached him, I saw what he had been hovering over. A semi circle of red flowers surrounded him, and a rope tied one of his hands to the tree trunk. 

“I knew you would find me. Remember? You used to say to me—daddy, roses are red and sunflowers are yellow right? How come I haven’t seen any purple flowers? Purple is my favorite.” Tears brimmed his eyes and he reached his arms out, waiting for my embrace. But I couldn’t hug him. I just couldn’t. That same day that I told him about my favorite color, I had also told him about my least favorite color. Red. 

“I don’t like red,” I had said, “It reminds me of scary and dangerous things.” 

The red flowers in the semi circle weren’t naturally red. They had been painted by my father as a sign not to go near him. They were painted with his own blood. My heart shattering into a million pieces, I slowly walked away from my father. 

“Run, go! I knew you would kn—come here my daughter, untie me from this tre—don’t listen to me, just go okay? I’ll be okay,” he twitched, talking in different voices. I knew that my real father would want me to go. His eyes changed with each voice, and I waited until his real self was back again. Maybe I could help him, wasn’t there a chance? The Salems must have done this to him. 

“Come here you little br—honey, you have to go okay? This rope is going to break any second. I’m so glad I got to see you one last time. I love you,” I knew he was right. 

“I love you too,” I yelled. Getting one last good look at my father’s loving eyes and the purple flowers at my feet, I plucked one out of the ground and ran as far as I could.