WITCHES OF WOLF CREEK: TRUTH

She staggers, writhing in laughter. Elinor is so funny when she’s drunk. It must be the mixture of alcohol and antidepressants. For several years now, I’ve preferred her drunk, but I don’t dare tell her. She laughs like a turkey before tripping over a tiny pebble. Sixine smiles under the rays of the moon. She never wears an open smile. We don’t see her teeth when she dares to display this expression. This is the "serious" of the group. A bunch of crazies who have known each other forever, who have been experimenting with life for almost thirty years, in a pretty town in North Carolina, bordered by streams in its forest setting. Wolf Creek. Elinor, Sixine and Neeve. Three inseparable friends. We even live together in a downtown loft. And besides, we’re just about to arrive there. Slowly, of course. I watch as Sixine supports Elinor, who bursts into laughter for no reason. The blue reflections of her black hair almost sparkle in the glow of the full moon. The contrast to Elinor’s lunar blonde hair is stark. I take a drag on the joint and I’m distracted by wolf howls coming from the woods around Wolf Creek. Guess Cooper Bretton’s pack is out. It’s not good to venture into the forest tonight. My mood turns to bitterness. I can’t walk there as I please. We don’t mix. Elinor snaps me out of my bitter thoughts. We can always count on her. "f**k, I’m going to pee myself." Elinor is a teacher and lives badly in her role. We leave Jake’s, the only bar in Wolf Creek. The streets are deserted. Elinor sings loudly. Sixine shakes her head and says: "We’ll go more slowly on the vodka next time." I chuckle. We emerge into the avenue, two hundred meters from our apartment. Still not a sound, except that of the wolves that we hear howling in the distance, and Elinor, who shouts tirelessly. Sixine grabs me by the shoulder. The three of us walk forward, a smile plastered on our faces tired by this festive night. It’s when we pass the nine-story building on the corner of Willsborough, the pedestrianized street of Wolf Creek, that fate befalls us. But at that time, we were not yet aware of it. We don’t yet know that this night will change our lives. The impact of bones and flesh on the asphalt makes a sound so excruciating that I raise my hands to press them to my ears. Elinor cries out. Sixine stops breathing. My heart skips a beat. Before us lies the broken body of a woman who has just crashed on the asphalt.