Page 4 of Fated Obsessions
We only had a certain amount of days, a certain number of hours. A preordained amount of memories before the light in us was extinguished and we moved on to the next thing.
Whatever that was.
And I supposed I was just living that to the extreme, to the fullest, to experience all I could in the short number of years I had in this world.
The road evened out, and I was able to relax against the worn leather seat, my muscles aching from tensing during this trip.The driver was an older man with white hair, an unequally white thick beard, and eyebrows that looked like they were trying to crawl off his face because they were so bushy. His hands were curled around the cracked steering wheel, the skin tanned and worn, wrinkled and showing he’d no doubt done hard labor throughout his life.
He only said but a few words to me, and I had to wonder if it was because he didn’t speak much English or if he just wasn’t sociable. Either way, that was fine with me. I’d never been much for socializing anyway.
I looked out the window and stared at the thick line of trees that were passing us by in a blur. The radio he had on played some type of folk music, the volume turned down low, so I couldn’t make out the words. Not that I could understand anyway.
I didn’t speak Romanian. Although I did brush up on a few key terms before my trip, wanting to be respectful, so I could say thank you, please, and ask where the bathroom was. Things like that, although I just shook my head and once again felt like a complete lunatic for what I was doing.
The rental host, Andrei, had arranged the car ride—thank God for that, ‘cause I’d for sure be up shit creek—and I realized I was putting a lot of trust in a complete stranger, but when in Rome, and all that.
The driver started to say something, his words broken but clear enough I knew what he meant.
We’d be there shortly.
He pointed to the forest, but I couldn’t understand most of what he said. But I feel like I got the gist of it, as if he were… warning me? Maybe he was talking about wolves? Bears? Otherwild animals that lurked in the dark, deep in the woods? A shiver wracked through me.
But I didn’t think too much about any of that. It wouldn't do me any good. Instead, I shifted into the center seat and stared out the front window. I had my hands braced on the seat on either side of me, this car so old that the lack of seatbelts should’ve been horrifying, but instead, it transported me back to another time when people said “fuck you” to safety regulations.
The little town of Dobravina, Romania, came into view, and I actually sucked in a breath at how gorgeous the village was. Definitely transported back in time.
Nestled between the thick jut of trees that sprouted from the ground, it seemed quaint but mystical. When I’d been searching for places to stay, I knew I wanted to be somewhere east in Europe. I didn’t know why I felt that pull, but it had been there, incessant, and there was no swaying my decision.
Maybe it was my curiosity and fascination with folklore, vampires and werewolves, demons and all those mythical things. And although I knew they were just stories, the very idea of being at the heart of where some of those tales originated seemed wildly interesting to me.
And here I was. In Dobravina, Romania.
The roads seemed to be made of cobblestone, and what was so strange was I already felt so... at ease. It was weird and exhilarating, and for the first time since I decided to take this life-altering trip, I really felt like this was the very best idea.
The little car bumped along, and I braced one hand on the door and another on the roof so I didn’t crash against the top of the vehicle. After a minute, the driver slowed to a snail’s crawl, and I relaxed once more, looking at the little shops that lined either side of me, staring at the people walking up and down the sidewalks, bags in their hands, older women wearing what I assumed was traditional-style clothing for this area. The younger generation was in typical jeans and T-shirts, the kids laughing and shouting at each other as they chased one another.
It was only another five minutes before the car pulled up beside the tiny cottage-like house. And when I said cottage, I meant just that. This house could’ve been a prototype for some fairy tale set in the middle of an enchanted forest.
Although small and clearly aged, it looked quaint and comfortable. The pictures online hadn’t done it justice. Off to the side, I could see a garden, the tiny homes all around it holding the same charm.
After I paid the driver and thanked him, although I probably butchered the hell out of my translation, I stood there with my backpack slung over my shoulder and my duffel in my hand. I looked around, not sure if I should call the number that had been listed for the rental, but before I could think about it too much, a young man and an elderly woman came out the front door from the home directly beside the one I rented.
The young man lifted his hand and waved as he helped who I presumed must be his grandmother toward me.
“Mikalina?”
“Yes, but just Mika is fine.”
He inclined his head and smiled. “I’m Andrei.” His accent was thick and richly EasternEuropean. “This is my grandmother Mininya, although everyone calls her Mini. She’s the owner of the cottage and lives right next door. She doesn’t speak English, so I handle all the details of the rental, and the postings on the internet. You and I were communicating online.”
Despite his accent, his English was impeccable. I smiled and offered my hand. After we shook, he started speaking with his grandmother. Mini was speaking quickly in her native language, but her focus was eerily trained right on me the entire time. She eyed me with intelligent eyes, then said something in a tone that suggested whatever agreement she’d come to, that was that and nothing would sway her. She gestured toward the house.
“Shall we go inside and look around?” Andrei asked and smiled but didn’t give me a chance to respond as he led us toward the small house.
Mini started going on again, and he responded in an exasperated tone but nodded as if he knew he lost whatever fight was going on with the older woman.
“Is she okay? With this?” I tacked on that last bit, feeling as if maybe she didn’t approve of me.
He waved off my concern and shook his head. “She’s rambling on about nonsense. She’s very happy you’re here, I assure you.”