Elisabeth

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

He woke up, the sun shining bright in his eyes. He blinked a few times. He shifted on the branches. Everything hurt, and not only from sleeping there on the branches. His back, his arm and both his legs were full of pain. He moaned as he sat up and gasped when he touched his leg. He wanted to scream all the bad words his mom had forbidden him to say. Will held his breath when he heard someone sing. Elisa was painting on the cliff near his tree. She had been searching for him all night, but he had kept his mouth shut and tried to sleep. He felt a bit guilty, but she would get over him soon. If he just build a tree house in this tree and...

Will interrupted his own thoughts. He felt like he was eight again. Hiding for Sarah, his neighbor slash friend. She was a bit older than him. Tree houses had always been his obsession, but he stopped building when he was thirteen. Yet here he found himself, planning to build his first tree house sice five years ago. He shifted on the branch he was sitting on and nearly fell out. He grabbed another branch and held himself up. His arm throbbed with pain.

He decided to wait untill she was gone, so she wouldn't notice him. Will's gaze now found the gigantic stone cliff. This was not the first time she painted on it. There were all kinds of scenes spread over it. You could hardly find a spot that was not painted. She was no bad artist. Which was still an understatement. She was terribly good. He could tell what everything was. He saw a boat, a sea, an older woman and an older man, a cat, a girl and Elisa herself. This gradually changed into the island, where an older man was walking with a sincere smile on his face. He saw the lake they had been swimming in, and himself, touching her toes. She was painting his smile at that very moment, which made him smile. All over the unimportant parts of the paintings there were stories, but he couldn't read it; he was too far away. Somewhere above the green of the jungle there was a dark spot in the blue sky. Around this large, continuing picture, were several others; fruits, people and landscapes. Texts were also written on the other side, but not in her handwriting. He figured it was probably Beau's, though he had no idea what was up with that guy, and where he was. According to the painting, he had clearly been on this island. He couldn't help but close his eyes, as he was tired and weak. Soon, he fell asleep again.

Elisa sang the song she learnt from her mother. She liked it, but she sang it mainly because she knew no other songs. Beau had taught her a lot, but songs and music were worthless. According to him of course. Elisa loved songs. She loved singing, dancing, painting and any other creative activities. She had written whole books on the cliff, she had painted her whole life on the cliff and she had woven countless things of leaves and branches. She didn't have too much to do on the island, which gave her time to develop all kinds of creative skills. Just to pass her time, she had taught herself things that everyone else took lessons for. There was never someone to correct her mistakes, but she was critical enough to correct herself. She was, as Beau said, a perfectionist. She had documented all the different kinds of food on the island and her own recipes. The cliff was her only place to write and paint, because the sea washed anything she wrote on the beach away. Paper didn't grow on trees -even though she thought so when she was four- and was therefore something unique on this island. The only paper on the island was the book Will had tried to take from behind her cupboard. He had no idea how important it was for her. He had no idea how long she had suffered and how badly she wanted to return to the mainland. She did not need a special sense of some kind to know what he was thinking. Elisa already knew. He thought she was mentally retarded and made this island-story up. Just because he couldn't find his way back, didn't mean he didn't believe there was a way back. And there had to be one, it was just not as easy as Will thought. And she was not insane. She didn't mind what he thought though, because she didn't like him either. He was stubborn as a wild horse and curious as a newborn baby. He behaved like a baby as well. Even she realised that, and she had raised herself since she was six. She bit her lip. Forcing herself to stop thinking about her past. Because what was, is no more.

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Author's note: Sorry guys, bit short today :( . I do not like this chapter and everything that's happening, and when they are not together and don't have conversations it's so much harder to write. It's like writing monologues. Next chapter is going to be longer, I promise.

If you like the story, or you have something else to say, please comment :D. I would like to have some feedback and know what you guys think, otherwise I could just as well write for a wall. I write on Wattpad so others can share what they think of my stories and can help me. Writing for myself (or the wall) is useless, then I can just as well keep it inside of my head.

So comment & vote!!

xxx Suzanne

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Dedicated to sweetdreams31 because even though "Mickey Who?" is still short, I can tell it's gonna be a lovely book!