Before the Ever Green (BTEG #1) ✔️

Chapter 7

The weekend has finally arrived, and I am sitting in my bed in this little attic, looking out the balcony, wishing just for once Mom would let me go into the trees by the house. I wish she'd let me explore, and leave this horrible thing I have to call a life.

Maybe she would if she knew how horrible my life really was, but I'd never tell her about everything that happens at school. Mom already has so much on her mind, and my problems shouldn't be one of them.

I decide to actually pull myself out of bed, and out onto the wood boards of the balcony. It's so nice outside, and the Autumn leaves are just now turning a lovely hue of red and orange. I love Autumn, because there are so many colors, and the weather is never too hot or cold like in summer and winter. Spring and Autumn are the best in my opinion. I wrote a poem about it once:

When summers day turns to cold

the Autumns wind you're sure to hold

Mothers cider on the stove,

breathtaking color as pure as gold

The tree in the east turning red

The color fades before the dead.

Autumns wind I hope you hold.

Take it in before the cold.

I never shared that poem with anyone, I always thought of it as my own little piece of work. Something I could hold close to my heart, because Autumn was when I was born, when I fell best. Autumn is my word. Mom told me Dad liked Autumn, once, and I'm not sure if it was the truth. I always hoped it was.

Mom comes in to check on me, and smiles when I turn around, "Good morning, how'd you sleep?" she asks,

"Fine." That's what I answer to most her questions. She never really asked me anything that I would need to respond anything else to. We don't talk a lot, not about things that matter. 90% of our conversations are about school, me being sick each month, or how did I sleep. The rest of the time, we either don't speak, or we talk about things like sunsets, Turtle, or the book I'm currently reading.

"I'm going to run into town, do you want to come?"

"No, thank you." I say. She gives a brief smile before turning to leave, "Mom," I start, and wish I didn't, but I have to start what I finish, "C—can I go to the woods?" I speak really fast. I can see a look on her face, but I can't put an emotion to it. She is breathing hard, and she's blinking many times, like she's shocked by the question, or doesn't quiet know what I just asked, so I ask it again, "Can I go to the woods?" But this time a little slower.

A deep breathe, and she answers, "Be careful,"

Mom must be in a good mood, that or she realizes I haven't asked her in a few years. I guess Mom just thought I was too young, or that I would hurt myself. I almost never leave the house, except for school or the occasional times I go to town with her.

She actually leaves this time, and when she does, I smile. Not because I am happy she's gone, but because she is letting go, even if it's just a little. I am glad, maybe one day she'll let go off every strand.

I can see Mom leave from the balcony. She is wearing a black dress, black hat, and is carrying a basket I 'made' her in 6th grade. I like seeing Mom leave, she always looks so peaceful, and it makes me really wonder what she could have possibly done to make the towns people hate her. Maybe it's not just her, maybe it's our family. I remember reading stories of how descendants of 'bad people' were treated badly because of what their ancestors did.

It's probably something like that.

I quickly put on a pair of jeans, and a white flowy top, before I head into the wood. I grab a leather backpack, and fill it with 2 books, a rope, a sweater, a canteen of water, an apple, sunflower seeds, and a sandwich Mom left me in the fridge.

Being as I have never been in the woods, I don't know what to expect. Maybe a bear will attack me, or a tree will fall on my head. I don't have anything to think, because I haven't read about the woods, really. All the books I've read that have people entering the woods are fantasy, and have fairies. Nothing that tells me the truth about what the woods will be like.

I pick a flower from the garden, and play with it in my fingers, as I walk in the direction of the mass of trees scattered every where. I hope I don't get lost. It's dark in the wood, and I'm not sure there'll be anything exciting. That was what I was hoping for, something I could write down in my journal, something worth telling the world, but instead, I am surrounded by hundreds of trees, and no apparent animals.

I am about to turn around, when something catches my eye. It's silver, and appears to be glowing in the dirt. After a few moments of plain staring, I walk over to it, and scavenge through the dirt to find a ring. It has a knot in front of it, and looks like nothing I've ever seen before. I place it on my left hand index finger, like Mom does. I'm not sure why, but I know I've always liked the idea of wearing a ring. All the rings I've ever seen have diamonds, and are fancy. Sara Jane wears one on here right hand index finger. She says it symbolizes beauty, but I think she's full of it.

She may have a pretty face, I'm not sure, since she cakes it with makeup, but I am certain she doesn't have a pretty heart. Or, if she does, she never shows it. She is always showing the little dark spot. I'd like to believe she has good, but it's just so hard.

She makes it so hard.

I look up from my hand, and notice a small creek, and a swing at the other end. I look across the length of the water, trying to find a bridge, and do. It is wooden, and trees line the outside of it. I walk through the overlay of branches, and to the other end, where I find a small shed. It looks like it's been used many times, and has a well not 10 feet from it.

I just walk over to the small swing, set my bag down by the oak tree, sit on the small plank of wood, and hold the ropes tightly with my hands. My feet just touch the ground, so I push off, and smile. It feels like I am flying. The wind through my hair, but when I go back, the brown covering my face, making it impossible for me to see.

Back and forth.

Up and down.

I've never felt so amazing in my life. I am smiling so big, I am pretty sure the end of my mouth is touching my ear. I release my left hand, and hold my hand out, so the wind flows through my fingers, and I smile even bigger. The wind is so nice on my person, I could stay here forever.

I will stay here forever.