The Bamboo Forest

Fourteen.

The teenager returned home from a school trip to find her father smashing beer bottles into the wall. She flinched as another bottle crashed into the wall, the sound reverberating through the small room. She asked timidly, "Dad?"

As the sound of her voice, he turned. She grimaced at her father's appearance. His eyes were bloodshot and there was stubble on his chin. "You bitch! Get out! Get out of my freaking house! I hate you! I hate that bitch of your mother! I hate women! Screw you!" he screamed and threw a bottle at her. She ducked just in time and the glass shattered above her head. She looked at her dad, tears brimming in her eyes. "Dad..."

"I said get out! Do you understand, you bitch! Get out!" He raised another bottle and she scurried out quickly. She put on her snow boots and lowered her head as she ran towards the bamboo forest.

The bench was empty, with the exception of snow. She sat down and pulled her knees to her chest, burying her face in her arms. Her whole body rocked as she let out heart-wrenching sobs. Why? she thought. Why has dad become like this?

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Her skin, as pale as snow.

Her hair, as black as coal.

Her lips, a cherry red.

Her eyes, a chocolate brown.

An hour passed. And another. And another. The sun was about to disappear behind the mountains. There she sat, cold and lonely, in the middle of the road. Her eyelids drooped. She forced them open. But she could stay awake no more. She shut her eyes and never opened them as she fell into a deep slumber.

There were grey clouds in the sky of blue. A slight drizzle soon began. A tiny raindrop dripped onto her eyelashes, glinting in the almost non-existent light. But she stayed asleep, hugging herself tighter. The bamboo trees leaned towards her in the strong wind, trying to grasp her in their clutches, but she was quite out of their reach. The leaves shook, seeming angry and frustrated that they could not reach her tiny, sleeping form.

A boy appeared, out of the blue, emerging from the depths of the bamboo forest. He sees the girl and walks to her cautiously. One. Two. One. Two. He reaches her and touches her on the shoulder, pulling his hand back as the girl stirs. Then she stops. Gently, he carries her bridal style, while attempting to shelter them both with the umbrella. If possible, the wind blew stronger and the umbrella flew away. The slight drizzle soon became a full-fledged thunderstorm. Streaks of lightning flashed across the now grey sky. He picks up his pace as he makes his way home. Two people, one storm. It was the two of them against the world.