Carvings

Chapter 1 ✪

Elise had always been good at making new friends in the playground. The painted hopscotch on the gravel flooring tended to be a good hub for quick introductions and forging friendships. But one friend was particularly different than the others...

"1, 2, 3, 4, 5 once I caught a fish alive, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 then I threw it back again", five-year-old Elise sang. She was sitting cross-legged on her soft pink bed, her little podgy fingers counting off the numbers one by one. Unable to doze off into the cozy ocean of sleep, she had decided to practice the new and catchy song she had recently learnt. It was 10 at night and her two storey house was cosily encircled in a blanket of darkness. Only the streetlights were illuminating the face of her house - without them the house could have been hidden in the darkness forever, or well at least until daylight risen again. Her parents were dead asleep and her seven-year-old brother, Seth, was in the bed opposite her, wrapped in his duvet. Switching on her night light, dimly lighting the room, she brought out her diary. Secretly, she had stashed her prized possession under her mattress and searched blindly for a pen. Finding a black ball-point inside her brother's school bag, she began to write.

 Dear diary,

Today mummy said I could finally get the new roller skates I asked for my birthday! It is really expensive but mummy said it don't matt-

Elise stopped writing when she realised the ink in the ball-point had run out. Typical: her brother always kept things that didn't work. She bit her bottom lip in frustration. About to scribble it onto her page - hoping the ink would magically reappear again - she decided to instead preserve the smooth cream pages of her delicate diary. As an alternative method, she scribbled it onto her bedside table. Nothing. But the sound of the metal point scratching the wooden surface was satisfying to her ears. Scribbling harder she began to leave marks and scratches. Little beige clawed marks wrecked the polished surface and forever tainted the wood. Staring at the wooden stretchmarks, it dawned on her the mess she made. Mummy is going to be angry with me now! She scolded herself. But the damage was done, and suddenly it became easier to lift up the pen again and continue with the satisfying scratches, continuing with the masterpiece she started on the brown wooden canvas.

Slowly, and almost manually, she navigated the pen to carve out the alphabets as Ms. Finster advised her to do. She carved out the word 'Hello' as neatly as she could, her tongue slightly poking out in tight concentration. They were practising their handwriting in school so she was glad that she still remembered how to do it. Elise was going to continue by writing her name when suddenly and unexpectedly, a reply was carved back. It took her time to figure out what the carving was forming but eventually she was able to read it.

 Hi.

Elise blinked and rubbed the lids of her blue eyes but the small two-letter word was still there. Her heart pounded rapidly in her chest, this was unusual for her. There was no way she could've imagined it. Running her finger over the word, she traced her finger through the jagged lines of the single word greeting. A tingling sensation floated in her stomach, almost like bubbles rising to the surface. Excitement.

 She stared at her door, expecting her mum to burst into the room any second and rage at her in an angry fit when she noticed the damage. When she was completely sure her mum wouldn't come in, she started carving, and every time she did, she received a reply. It reminded her of the film she watched with her brother a few days ago. Harry Potter was it? She thought. Remembering the scene when Harry spoke to the book and it replied back through sentences appearing on the paper, she looked back at the single worded greeting. Was she the next Harry Potter? With that happy thought in her head she began carving.

 How are you?

I'm fine.

How old are you?

Six.

I'm five!

What's your name?

Brayden Lloyd.

Elise began carving on the side of the desk so she had more space to write.

I'm Elise Simpson.

Nice to meet you.

You too!

How are you doing this?

No answer. There were scratches and carves on the desk - and there was no way she could cover it. Elise just lay down on her back and waited for drowsiness to take over her. She dreamt of many things she would tell the strange boy next time.

Her strange new friend: Brayden Lloyd.