Before the Ever Green (BTEG #1) ✔️

Chapter 8

I finally pulled my self off the swing, and back through the wood to my house. Mom isn't home yet, so I just sit on the couch, and read my book, it's written by some guy named Shakespeare. Most of what he says doesn't make sense, but I love reading it, because it takes me so long to decipher the meanings of what he is saying, like Doubt thou the stars are fire; doubt that the sun doth move; doubt truth to be a liar. But never doubt I love...

I guess Mom wants me to be creative with my words, but I'm not quiet sure. That was from Hamlet Act II Scene II. I'm not sure when I will ever use this language, no one would understand me if I tried to speak like this in class, or in town, or anywhere really.

I hear Mom opening the door, so I put my book down on the small table, and grab the basket from her hands, "How was your trip?" I ask

"Fine, I suppose. Margret had her baby, and her husband passed out, so he's in the medical wing."

"Isn't this their fifth baby?" I ask

"Yes, but you know how Mr. Ban is, he is really squeamish,"

"I guess, but you'd think Mrs. Ban would make him less squeamish, especially after five children, she ought to teach him how not to pass out,"

"Addilyn, maybe someday she will," she says, "but don't expect it any time soon," I laugh a little, and so does Mom. Mr. Ban and Mom were really good friends in school, but then Mr. Ban met Margret, and my Mom met my Dad. I guess Mr. Ban and Mom dated for a little bit in High school, but preferred just being friends.

Mom heads to the kitchen and starts cutting up all the vegetables immediately, "How was the wood?"

"Fine, I found a swing. It was fun," I say, "I've never experienced anything like it, before."

She laughs a little, "I'm glad you had fun,"

"Mom-can I go back tomorrow?"

"To the wood?" She looks shocked by the question, but I'm not sure why. I am about to say 'yes', when she starts talking, again, "I suppose, if you help me with dinner,"

"Okay, what are we making?"

"Stew," I hate stew. Mom always adds beans, and I am pretty sure the beans she uses are labeled 'gag', because they taste so bad, but I don't complain. I want to go to the wood, and I know it won't happen if I complain.

We finish making the stew, and sit down to eat. It wasn't half bad, but I did notice Mom left out the beans. It's like she read my mind. I wonder if that's her power. I doubt it, because who would be scared of that? I'm sure not, and no one else should be, either.

Odd thing I do #7: I am super dramatic.

Odd thing I do #8: I think of all the odd things I do.

I head up to my room, and lay in my bed, looking up at the wood ceiling keeping everything away from me. I turn my head to look out the window, and at the trees in which I was not 2 hours ago. I can't stop thinking of that little shed, and how it had looked like someone or something lived there. Maybe I just imagined it, and no one lived there. No one, nothing, nope. I keep telling myself, no one lives there. Nothing lives there. And, there is no reason to be thinking about nothing.