Because I said I'd post some of it. I didn't edit yet, though...
I sit at the creek's edge, holding a notebook and pencil. It's a very pretty day outside, which means that my landscape sketches will look amazing. I've had this secret passion for art ever since I could first hold a pencil, and my skills have been improving ever since.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spy something moving in the bushes. It’s too big to be a small deer or rabbit. No, it’s most likely a fellow human being. A human girl, as I see when she steps out of the woods. This strikes me as strange, because I’ve never seen another person here in the few months since I’d discovered this place. It’s a little weird that this untouched forest is only a mile from the suburbs, where I live.
The strange girl walks towards me. She looks to be about ten years old, with messy brownish hair and eerily piercing blue eyes. She’s dressed in brown and green, which makes her look a bit like a walking tree with a head. She notices me watching her and steps up toward me.
Looking me straight in the eye, the strange girl says, “Follow me. I have something to show you. Please.” I have a reputation for hardly trusting anyone, including adorable little girls. But there’s something about this kid, about the pleading tone in her voice and those enormous eyes, that makes her seem different...I let her lead me through the bushes and trees. We’re walking off all the marked trails, something I’d never even dreamed of doing before. Does this girl have any idea how dangerous the forest is, even in daylight?
As we walk, she asks me, “What’s your name?”
“Jenny,” I reply. I’ve just broken the record for the number of words I’ve voluntarily said to a complete stranger.
“And your other name? The one everyone in your family shares?”
She must mean my last name. I’ve never given out my first and last names to someone whose name I don’t even know, but I reply anyway. “Desmond.” At least she doesn’t know my middle name...
When we stop walking, my legs are sore and my feet feel like they’re falling off. We’ve stopped in front of a door that appears to be carved in a tree trunk. It’s very elaborate, but it’s just a carving. There’s nothing that could possibly be behind it, right?
She completely proves me wrong by raising one of her little hands and placing it on the carving.
Weird pink sparkles float around in the air, like they might in a fantasy movie, and the door swings outwards. It’s enough to creep me out.
We walk into the tree trunk. It’s bigger on the inside than it is outside, and there’s room for a whole house in there. We’re standing in a room with a table and two chairs. A boy, about my age of fifteen, is sitting in one of them. When he sees us, a grin spreads across his freckled face.
“Hyacinth! You’ve brought another human friend of yours! What’s she called?” The little girl, who’s obviously named Hyacinth, quietly says “Jenny Desmond.” As I’m thinking about what an interesting name Hyacinth is, the boy turns to me and says, “She’s my little sister, and she chose her own name. So did I, but my choice is way plainer. I’m Jason.”
Out of politeness, I say, “It’s a nice name, really.” Jason smiles again. “Thanks.” I want to ask him why he implied that he and Hyacinth aren’t exactly human, but before the words can escape my mouth, Jason has an answer.
“You want to know our story, do you? Sit down and I’ll tell you.” He motions at the empty chair next to him. I take a seat, and accidentally drop my sketchbook. It falls open to one of my best sketches, a realistic picture of a squirrel with an acorn. Jason picks up the book, looks at the picture for the longest few seconds ever, and says, “Wow. I really wish I could draw.” He gives the book back to me I’m, surprisingly, more than eager to teach him to draw, but I don’t say this.
I sit at the creek's edge, holding a notebook and pencil. It's a very pretty day outside, which means that my landscape sketches will look amazing. I've had this secret passion for art ever since I could first hold a pencil, and my skills have been improving ever since.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spy something moving in the bushes. It’s too big to be a small deer or rabbit. No, it’s most likely a fellow human being. A human girl, as I see when she steps out of the woods. This strikes me as strange, because I’ve never seen another person here in the few months since I’d discovered this place. It’s a little weird that this untouched forest is only a mile from the suburbs, where I live.
The strange girl walks towards me. She looks to be about ten years old, with messy brownish hair and eerily piercing blue eyes. She’s dressed in brown and green, which makes her look a bit like a walking tree with a head. She notices me watching her and steps up toward me.
Looking me straight in the eye, the strange girl says, “Follow me. I have something to show you. Please.” I have a reputation for hardly trusting anyone, including adorable little girls. But there’s something about this kid, about the pleading tone in her voice and those enormous eyes, that makes her seem different...I let her lead me through the bushes and trees. We’re walking off all the marked trails, something I’d never even dreamed of doing before. Does this girl have any idea how dangerous the forest is, even in daylight?
As we walk, she asks me, “What’s your name?”
“Jenny,” I reply. I’ve just broken the record for the number of words I’ve voluntarily said to a complete stranger.
“And your other name? The one everyone in your family shares?”
She must mean my last name. I’ve never given out my first and last names to someone whose name I don’t even know, but I reply anyway. “Desmond.” At least she doesn’t know my middle name...
When we stop walking, my legs are sore and my feet feel like they’re falling off. We’ve stopped in front of a door that appears to be carved in a tree trunk. It’s very elaborate, but it’s just a carving. There’s nothing that could possibly be behind it, right?
She completely proves me wrong by raising one of her little hands and placing it on the carving.
Weird pink sparkles float around in the air, like they might in a fantasy movie, and the door swings outwards. It’s enough to creep me out.
We walk into the tree trunk. It’s bigger on the inside than it is outside, and there’s room for a whole house in there. We’re standing in a room with a table and two chairs. A boy, about my age of fifteen, is sitting in one of them. When he sees us, a grin spreads across his freckled face.
“Hyacinth! You’ve brought another human friend of yours! What’s she called?” The little girl, who’s obviously named Hyacinth, quietly says “Jenny Desmond.” As I’m thinking about what an interesting name Hyacinth is, the boy turns to me and says, “She’s my little sister, and she chose her own name. So did I, but my choice is way plainer. I’m Jason.”
Out of politeness, I say, “It’s a nice name, really.” Jason smiles again. “Thanks.” I want to ask him why he implied that he and Hyacinth aren’t exactly human, but before the words can escape my mouth, Jason has an answer.
“You want to know our story, do you? Sit down and I’ll tell you.” He motions at the empty chair next to him. I take a seat, and accidentally drop my sketchbook. It falls open to one of my best sketches, a realistic picture of a squirrel with an acorn. Jason picks up the book, looks at the picture for the longest few seconds ever, and says, “Wow. I really wish I could draw.” He gives the book back to me I’m, surprisingly, more than eager to teach him to draw, but I don’t say this.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Write stuff!