Tangled up

Gunshots in the woods

2 years later

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I was rocking on my hammock made out of wines I got from the willow, calmly brushing my hair, when Squirms decided to startle me," Squirms!!!!! How many times have I told you to not stratle me like that!!!!" Squirms being the stubborn iguana he was just decided to continue pleading for food. I removed a pink flower I stuck on my hair and handed it to Squirms. He gladly ate it. I always put flowers in my ussually long braided hair. Not to make me feel preatty, just so Squirms can always satisfy his hunger. I went in my treehouse and got a few cherries from my big stack of fruits I got from neighboring trees. These years, I have fed myself with fruits, and occasionally bought something with the reminder of money I had left. I ussualy used the money to buy paint and water. Its funny how I thought I could have pick pocket a few years ago. Over the last two years, I have turned myself into a kind of hippie, being friendly with the animals and acting kind and smart. I still wear the clothes I got two years ago and I wash them often. But my shoes weren't that lucky, they broke about tree months ago, when I almost slipped off a branch. But I have gotten used to walking barefoot, since its the only way I can walk now. Life was calm and peaceful, and the only time I ever wished to be hone was in winter, when I hardly ate anything and was always enveloped by my sleepingbag, all alone. Happily , my phone still worked, and I played on it all winter long, even though I couldn't call anymore. I had decorated my tree house with a leaf pattern that I covered with a white tablecloth in winter, to not be noticed. My ceiling was covered in many different designs, too many to name and the tree trunk was coverd with

paintings of all my animal friends that have passed away. The floor is more stained than it used to be, but I dont mind. I had added a hammock at the top of the tree, where I could see the sky and hopefully get a small tan. Thats where I went to brush and braid my hair, when the day was nice and the sun was up. Just like today infact; today was the perfect day. Finishing to brush my hair, I took out my used sketch book. It was almost full and my pencils were so small, but the leaves looked so preatty with the sun shining upon them, I just had to draw it. At first with my pencil, I drew the the leaves, then the sun. Slowly taking out the colored pencils, I gave the sun, the sky, and the leaves colour and value. I was finishing to add the value of the leaves when the gunshots were heard. Gasping I dropped my sketch book. I recovered fast enough to try to catch it before it went out of my reach but I was too late, my fingers barely touched the corner of the page and the sketchbook slipped and I watched it helplessly fall to the ground. If I hadn't heard a gun fire, I would have probalby swinged after it. But the constant shooting kept me paralized. Shots and shouts, shots and shouts. I was covering my ears, the gunshots were getting closer. But in my mind, a jumbled mess was going on: who is shooting? Are they looking for me? Are they trying to kill me? Are they trying to kill one of my animal friends? I was terrified. I slowly found my way to the tree house and lifted an empty paint container. It was made out of metal and surely was enough to knock someone out. I knew no one could get up here, but you have to be safe. The gunshots were getting closer, and my long hair was sticking to my body; I was sweating THAT much. My hair looked wierd, I realized I had only half brushed my hair. From the top of my head to my waist, it looked completely smooth, but from my waist to my feet, well, it looked like a big jumbled mess. I had very long hair. Mom said that my hair was too perfect to cut, she said it looked too golden. So I never cut it for her sake. I had asked her to donate it for cancer but she always refused. She said it was too perfect and if I cut it would lose its magnificence. And when I ran away, I never let myself cut it. I tried to multiple times, but I felt that if I did, I would be disloyal to mom. I noticed that the gunshots were slowly stopping. I released the breath I was keeping in. " HE'S GONE!!!!! MAYBE HE TRIED TO TRICK US, RETREAT!!!!" A smile crept to my lips; they weren't looking for me and they were going to leave me alone. Hugging Squirms tightly but not too tighly I sighted happily and seatled on the ground, staring to wait a bit before going down and getting my sketch book

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I will update when 2 people vote on this chapter since no one wants to vote. Ok... Squirms is supposed to be Pascal. I know Pascal in a chamelion but whatever... Squirms is actually a friend's iguana so yeah... Love you Marisa this chapter is dedicated to you and Squirms. Comment, and VOTE VOTE VOTE