when he were a boy, lime grass touched the crevasses of his toes, as well as the wind touching the microscopic hair that bedded the eardrum of his tan ears. with the clockwork of six, Ryon never imagined to be at any distraught throughout the years of his life. a cabin stood confidently amongst a wall of towering pine trees that it were made of only by the bravest of men. tight ropes carried his father to the tops of the trees, where he collected feathers and eggs for both arrows, and breakfast. they weren't the richest of families, but they most certainly were one of the happiest. the mother did everything she could to protect her own child, and to only bring him open arms if the boy ever needed it.
one day the father grew angry.
pots and wooden bowls flew across the kitchen room as the mother were the perfect target. the alpine bowls left gashes amongst her porcelain cheeks, for their lousy sanding that they received. sending her small frame toward the glossy, plank floor, only but the kanine ears she wore slid to the under part of the structured table; symbolizing the loss of her hope and protective-ness.
everyone that they knew, wore different types of animals among their heads, or something to represent that organism.{the mother; a hound.
the father; a black bear.
and the son; a deer.}Ryon couldn't help but run into the house full of screams and shreaks that could be heard from the highest of peaks. Blonde hair was clutched in the angered fists of the father, until her nose greeted the wood of the table. His fist curled harder, pulling her head back up and trying to peer into her tear filled eyes. the young boy that stood at the floor watched as his mother was beaten, and bloodied, and bruised by his own father. the man that sworn to love her forever, didn't love her ever. the bear, with his mighty hands, let go of the hound and pushed her to the floor. blood seeping from her nostrils and down to the top of her mouth only made it difficult for her to close her mouth; welcoming the taste of iron onto the tip of her strawberry tongue which only aroused the bear with the smell of her sweet liquid. Ryon ran from the scene, ran into the woods that trimmed the house barely. he didnt stop running, he didn't stop crying, he couldn't. no matter how hard he pushed himself to quit with the baby act, he was still a child. yet little did he know that meanwhile in the cabin his mother began to bleed from her mouth, as the father touched her lip harshly with the bone of his knuckles. the bear was angry. just from slight backtalk, just from that one remark, the entire cabin seemed to explode with rage. the maiden dress that she wore didn't fail to expose dark blood stains that grew more rapid as the droplets kept seeping out. it were like an oil leak, and his anger were the match to put a beginning to her temporary flame. of course, the father wished it weren't so temporary. he never laid a hand so aggressively onto her skin, until now. the family were happy, remember? no. they are broken. and so broken that the wife opened her mouth, trying to excuse the carmine liquid that masked the soft lips, and peeped out;
" for the sake of our child "
the father was not fazed. he equipped a heavy knife and only brought it to the adams apple of his beloved wife's and growled out;
" for the sake of your heart "
and with anger he turned the blade to his neck, and gaped open an artery to only meet his bloody fate. shrills and screams of the hound climbed to her bear, and held onto his head that were no longer functioning. trying to stop the blood, she held onto his heck with her appendages, attempting to clog that wound. she no longer hurt physically, but now mentally. her husband was gone, due to the quickness of anger and then the smooth transition to depression that could only be understood by the mind of a doctor. little did she know, he hid pills in the bedside table that were to cure his bipolar disorder, yet he needed a more permanent solution. his baby clinged against his own lifeless body that were as pale as the snow that filled the forests of Guyla which was where Ryon stood. deep within the gentle snowfall, his toes cringed from the bitterness of the snow. which were almost less cold than the body of the father. a stranded son, and a widowed mother. while the three of them where miles apart, they each sang;
" what happened to the calm nights at which we captured fireflies in a jar, and spoke of words that would send us to sweeter dreams "
YOU ARE READING
take me to happier places
Short Storydedication; ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴀɴᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴋᴇ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ɪʟʟɴᴇss. ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴘᴘɪᴇʀ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇs. (this book is a place to empty my thoughts)