The End

The beckoning - introduction

There was something about that spot. It surged an energy, a calling, into the forest. The sidewalk came to a halt, but everything behind was gleaming with the taste of adventure. Trees loomed over a little girl, but she felt comforted rather than afraid. As if the trees gave her a security and perhaps even a home. There was such a variety of green, and so many turns to explore. She felt her hands tighten their grip on the bike she was riding, fighting the urge to race into the infinite possibilities the forest held.

"Marie," another girl yelled from further down the sidewalk, "are you coming?" She was taller in stature, indicating an older age, but bore the same face of the younger girl. One could easily infer that they were related, the chocolate brown hair and large green eyes gave it away.

Marie snapped from her trance and biked up to where her sister waited. "Sorry, Sherri," she muttered.

"Well it's gonna take a whole lot more than sorry when you have to explain why we're home late, again." Sherri was adamant about timeliness and other things of the sort, which she borrowed from her father. Her adaptation of the trait was much healthier, however. Even at eleven it was clear that she was responsible. Among her punctuality, Sherri gleamed with other glamorous talents. The one she watered most was piano. She was called prodigy by everyone in town, and her biggest dream was to perform for the whole world. But that was just a dream.

"Do you think Dad will be mad again?" Marie said not looking up from the pavement they biked across. Marie was much different than Sherri, in the sense that she seemed utterly talentless. She was only six, but Sherri started playing piano at four and had been playing ever since. Marie could not play a single note on the piano and struggled with any bit of work she was given. The one thing Sherri knew Marie was good at, was making mistakes. She was the one to drop eggshells in the batter, or fall off her bike. Marie's scuffed up knees reflected that. She was the one who got scolded the most, as frequent mistakes bring frequent consequences. Yet, somehow, Marie was still incredibly kind.

"I'm not Dad, so I don't know if he'll be mad. We'll just have to see," and with that the two girls pulled up to their house. Both were surprised to see how cozy it looked. Their mom was outside the blue home planting flowers, while a delicious smell wafted from inside. It was a show, though. Both of the girls knew that it wasn't so nice on the inside, yet they walked in anyways.

Following the fantastic smell, the sisters made their way in the door. The food was being cooked by the girls' father, who had a feverish complexion. He never looked quite well, with a furrowed face and stubborn scowl that warded off any help. The girls hoped they could pass by him without drawing attention, but he turned around at the sound of the door closing.

His turn was sharp and purposeful, instilling fear in both Sherri and Marie. He was going to yell, and the girls knew, but they didn't move an inch. He seethed for a couple moments more before he spit out words.

"I told you four," he said through gritted teeth.

"It was my fault," said Sherri. Her father knew it was not her fault, and instead looked at Marie with an intense glare.

"You need to get your head out of the clouds, girl!," He snapped, "Quit staring off into space and pay attention to the world around you. It's not difficult! You think it's hard?!" He waited for Marie's answer, his anger rising every second she didn't give him one. She shook her head in response, too afraid to speak up. "You don't have anything to say for yourself? Fucking idiot can't even talk right." And with that he turned back to the food, muttering about how Marie made him burn it by not responding quick enough.

They had been through this same conversation just the night before. It went the exact same way every night.