By the Woods
folder
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,060
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,060
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
By the Woods
She is a very young girl by now. A young woman, some might call her, but she doesn\'t really think so. She could be any girl. Any girl could be her.
She lives in a small house with her father. Her mother - she doesn\'t remember much of her mother. Nothing concrete, anyway. When she thinks of her mother, she thinks of honey lemon sunlight smiles creeping slow across her face like the sun rising.
She likes the daylight. There is a sharp boundary in the place she lives, a boundary where the field stretches stretches stretches then stops. There are trees there, suddenly. She supposes it\'s a forest. She doesn\'t go into it, though. Her father told her once that that was where her mother went and kept walking and never came back.
But she hates nighttime, and it\'s because of her mother\'s screams. Somehow the little girl felt whatever it was that made her mother cry out like that, and her own mouth would open in a silent shout and she\'d curl up under the covers, trying to hide from those screams to make it stop hurting so much but the thought would always pass through her head that she\'d be betraying her mother if she made it stop when her mother couldn\'t, and so she listened every. single. night. In the morning she would wait until her father had left and crawl into bed next to her mother while she was still asleep. Once she looked through some old pictures she\'d found and saw a black-and-white one that she thought was of herself, but she could never remember it being taken. Whenever she spoke to her mother she always saw that smile that almost made her forget the nighttime. The picture, her mother told her, was of herself, not of her daughter. Her mother lifted her up and their eyes met in the mirror. It was the first time the little girl had ever really looked at herself, and it made her happy to see just how much she looked like her mother.
She likes the daylight but she likes the rain even more. It was raining the night the screaming stopped, and it was raining the day her mother left. She knows her mother wouldn\'t have gone unless she had to, and she knows her mother is happy, wherever she\'s gone. She guesses she must have left in the middle of the night, because when she went into their room the next morning the bed was empty. She cried for a long time because she knew immediately that now that she was gone, her mother was gone for good, and she wasn\'t going to come back, not even for her. The rain kept beating down on the roof loud like gunshots.
There are no bruises where her father hits her, and she remembers the pain she felt when she was younger. She knows why her mother left. She wonders if her mother knows about the things he does to her, because he doesn\'t just hit her. She lies in bed at night, doesn\'t take her eyes off the ceiling because she\'s afraid of what will happen if she goes to sleep. When he comes in, she doesn\'t take her eyes off the ceiling and she doesn\'t make a sound, and she doesn\'t cry when he leaves. She really hates nighttime.
It\'s raining now. The field looks so different under the cloud cover. For some reason it\'s more difficult to look at the sky when it\'s gray like this than when the sun\'s out. The green of the grass becomes more intense and so she looks over to the forest. The forest is always shadows even in sunlight.
She walks over to the tree line. It is very very dark in there, but a different darkness than what nighttime brings. She\'s afraid of it, yes, but afraid the way you\'re afraid of the sting of the peroxide when you clean a cut or a scratch. You know you have to get it over with, because if you don\'t the infection can dig even further into your blood. She knows she has to go in. She looks at the patch of earth that was dug up a few years ago, where the grass won\'t grow anymore, and she remembers that her mother is in the forest somewhere and she might just be able to find her, and even if she can\'t, well, she\'ll be away from here.
She\'s going into the forest today. She\'s going in and she\'s going to keep walking keep walking keep walking and she\'s not coming back.
She lives in a small house with her father. Her mother - she doesn\'t remember much of her mother. Nothing concrete, anyway. When she thinks of her mother, she thinks of honey lemon sunlight smiles creeping slow across her face like the sun rising.
She likes the daylight. There is a sharp boundary in the place she lives, a boundary where the field stretches stretches stretches then stops. There are trees there, suddenly. She supposes it\'s a forest. She doesn\'t go into it, though. Her father told her once that that was where her mother went and kept walking and never came back.
But she hates nighttime, and it\'s because of her mother\'s screams. Somehow the little girl felt whatever it was that made her mother cry out like that, and her own mouth would open in a silent shout and she\'d curl up under the covers, trying to hide from those screams to make it stop hurting so much but the thought would always pass through her head that she\'d be betraying her mother if she made it stop when her mother couldn\'t, and so she listened every. single. night. In the morning she would wait until her father had left and crawl into bed next to her mother while she was still asleep. Once she looked through some old pictures she\'d found and saw a black-and-white one that she thought was of herself, but she could never remember it being taken. Whenever she spoke to her mother she always saw that smile that almost made her forget the nighttime. The picture, her mother told her, was of herself, not of her daughter. Her mother lifted her up and their eyes met in the mirror. It was the first time the little girl had ever really looked at herself, and it made her happy to see just how much she looked like her mother.
She likes the daylight but she likes the rain even more. It was raining the night the screaming stopped, and it was raining the day her mother left. She knows her mother wouldn\'t have gone unless she had to, and she knows her mother is happy, wherever she\'s gone. She guesses she must have left in the middle of the night, because when she went into their room the next morning the bed was empty. She cried for a long time because she knew immediately that now that she was gone, her mother was gone for good, and she wasn\'t going to come back, not even for her. The rain kept beating down on the roof loud like gunshots.
There are no bruises where her father hits her, and she remembers the pain she felt when she was younger. She knows why her mother left. She wonders if her mother knows about the things he does to her, because he doesn\'t just hit her. She lies in bed at night, doesn\'t take her eyes off the ceiling because she\'s afraid of what will happen if she goes to sleep. When he comes in, she doesn\'t take her eyes off the ceiling and she doesn\'t make a sound, and she doesn\'t cry when he leaves. She really hates nighttime.
It\'s raining now. The field looks so different under the cloud cover. For some reason it\'s more difficult to look at the sky when it\'s gray like this than when the sun\'s out. The green of the grass becomes more intense and so she looks over to the forest. The forest is always shadows even in sunlight.
She walks over to the tree line. It is very very dark in there, but a different darkness than what nighttime brings. She\'s afraid of it, yes, but afraid the way you\'re afraid of the sting of the peroxide when you clean a cut or a scratch. You know you have to get it over with, because if you don\'t the infection can dig even further into your blood. She knows she has to go in. She looks at the patch of earth that was dug up a few years ago, where the grass won\'t grow anymore, and she remembers that her mother is in the forest somewhere and she might just be able to find her, and even if she can\'t, well, she\'ll be away from here.
She\'s going into the forest today. She\'s going in and she\'s going to keep walking keep walking keep walking and she\'s not coming back.