Tales Of Folklore

Seven

No one knew how it began but everyone knew how it ended. A tragedy now was once a blooming summer flower.

They all said "It started in summer" but they've got the wrong summer. It originally started 10 years before the infamous summer love.

Little James had just recently celebrated his 7th birthday. A mass number of people showed up to the town's most respected family's party. Who wouldn't? Doctors are not only well respected but also well-needed in society. Especially in a small town like this.

James had very little to none friends but everyone considered him a friend of theirs. He liked people, who was he kidding? He loved them. What he didn't love was how they treated him.

How they all want him to be just like them.

He felt different from them, odd. And thus spent most of his time lying in his garden. He dreamt of unbelievable scenes from stories he'd read secretly. His parents weren't fond of such "waste of time" hobbies as writing, drawing and exploring nature.

He was interested in way too many things to keep count and everybody just wanted him to focus on one thing. There were so many new things to explore and find out. So he hid a small stash of papers with his collection of short stories, drawings and things that interested him in a garden beside his house. Nobody lived there because the craftsman-style house was still in making. It was being made with such old wood that it didn't look new at all.
James was too young to realize sooner or later someone would move there and he'd have to relocate his secret stash of imagination elsewhere.

His life revolved around the fantasies he created in his head and kept his mouth shut in crowds. They wouldn't understand him anyway. The only time he'd speak up was when he was angry. Which was quite often.

He lies in his neighbour's garden and watches his classmates play volleyball in the distance and thinks to himself "What a stupid game to play".

"What's stupid about it?" A clear confident voice comes from the back. Her blond hair was braided in two. She looked exactly his age.

James looks over at her loose-fitted sweater in this hot summer. She shrugs her arms together before sitting down. Her pleated white skirt wasn't so white after that.

She looks at him expecting an answer.

"Running after one thing, everybody else is after. Kinda stupid." James scoffs.

"I guess it is stupid but that makes the thrill of winning better." Her blue eyes directly look into his green ones.

"Rebekah, you can call me Betty." She smiles.

"I- I'm James. I live in the house next to this" He points at the ranch house next door.

"Oh, so we are neighbours? We moved in today" She smiles again. Her eyes aren't meeting his anymore.

There is something about her that didn't make James feel threatened. He feels like whenever someone's approaching, they are always trying to attack him. He'd scream his way out of every situation without a second thought. He'd yell at anyone.
He can't come here and play by himself anymore. This was the only place he could escape reality from. He felt like roaring ferociously with the frustration of where to hide everything now.

He didn't though.

His eyes shift to Betty, looking at his drawings with gleaming eyes. He didn't know what but it felt safe to talk to her.

"You draw and write too!?" She exclaims. Her eyes trace over all his works and he doesn't stop her. He felt praised for the first time.

Normally he'd push anyone away if they tried to read his work but she was so happy that it didn't feel like she was making fun of him like others do.