Thanks to Beatriz Martin Vidal for permission to share these exquisite visual prompts!
Paulie pushed against Kyle’s
chest in frustration. “Did not!”
Kyle held his wrists tight and
swung him around so he lost his balance and stumbled again. The other boys
laughed. Paulie fought back tears. If he cried, they would never leave him
alone.
“If’n you don’t believe me, come
see fer yerself, Kyle,” Paulie dared. The laughter started and stuttered into
waiting as the boys watched to see what Kyle would do about this challenge. He
couldn’t let it go.
He pushed Paulie to the ground
and turned on his heel. “Fine, Gobber. We’ll meet you there tonight.”
Paulie jumped to his feet,
spitting with righteous indignation. “Oh no, Kyle. Just you.”
Kyle looked back at him
warningly. The boys still watched.
Paulie continued, fists on his
hips in a daring stance, “Too many might scare her off. Just you un me, Kyle,
unless yer too skeered.”
The boys tensed. Kyle laughed
sharply, and they joined in. “I’m not skeered, Gobber. I’ll be there tonight.
You best meet me, or I’ll come drag you outta yer bed!” He led the boys away,
and Paulie scuffed his feet all the way home.
He didn’t want to go back. He
couldn’t tell what worried him more: that she wouldn’t be there, or that she
would.
Homework, dinner, bed. Paulie
tried to act like everything was normal. He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t sneaking
out of his bedroom window. He wasn’t going there.
He hugged his mother with an
extra squeeze around her waist while she did the dishes. She laughed and
dropped a quick kiss on his head. “Off to bed with you, ye goose!”
He lay on his bed in his jeans
and sweatshirt, waiting for her to go to bed. Waiting for the TV to shut off.
Waiting for the moon to rise. It shone in his window, and he climbed out and
down. He walked-ran-walked to meet Kyle. Maybe he’d be too scared to show.
Paulie hoped.
Kyle waited under the big oak
tree outside the iron cemetery gate. He shone a flashlight in lazy circles.
Paulie’s greeting was a gruff,
“Can’t shine that in there. Over the wall, then.”
They quickly climbed the old
stone wall, using the thick ivy for handholds. From the top, they jumped down
together. Kyle oofed. Paulie rolled. He didn’t look at Kyle. Didn’t want to see
his face, his eyes.
“This way,” he whispered, and
walked into the cemetery.
They passed headstones and
obelisks and angels. Kyle looked around at everything, gleaming under the
moon’s light. Paulie looked straight ahead. He stopped and put up his hand.
Kyle almost bumped into him and froze. Paulie sidestepped to the right towards
a tall obelisk with a wide stone base. Kyle tried to step in Paulie’s shadow.
It would have been better if he could hide in it, Paulie thought.
They crouched behind the obelisk
and waited. And waited. Paulie sat still as one of the stone cherubs. Kyle
fidgeted, and after awhile, he started to stand. “I’m—”
“Shh! There!” Paulie motioned him
down with one hand and pointed with another. They were in the middle of the
cemetery, where it opened up into a broad grassy hill. Three large oak trees,
the biggest of any in town, stood at the base of the hill, and their leaves
scattered across it, since the town only paid the Mr. Johnson to come out and
mow once a month now.
The leaves skittered and danced,
floated in a breeze the boys didn’t feel. They spun around, more and more
joining into a miniature tornado that spun in place. Kylie made a noise, and
Paulie waved his hand behind his back without looking. Hush.
There was no moment that
separated when she was there from when she wasn’t. She simply appeared. Covered
in bright red leaves that didn’t come from the oak trees, she spun in the air
until her feet touched the ground. She danced. Her pale arms waved patterns in
the moonlight. Her black hair hung still down her back without a tangle or a
whisper as she moved.
Kyle crept closer. Paulie wanted
to call him back. Not as much as he wanted to avoid her gaze. He stayed behind
the stone. Kyle peered around the closest oak tree. She didn’t see or seem to
take notice of them as she danced.
A red leaf spun up, away from
her, spiraling into the night sky. Another. And another. One by one, the leaves
disappeared. As they thinned from her body, Paulie could see beneath them.
Through them. They lifted one after the other, leaving nothing behind. Finally
her arms, her face, her hair remained, ghostly in the moonlight.
Her eyes snapped open, looking
straight at Kyle. Paulie had forgotten him, mesmerized by the disappearing
leaves. Kyle groaned, and Paulie dragged his eyes to the oak tree where the
other boy stood. He was covered in blue leaves.
The girl’s eyes blinked once.
Twice. She disappeared in the heartbeat in between.
Kyle turned around to Paulie, his
face white and his eyes round with fear. The leaves grew over his body, his
arms, his face. Paulie watched until he could see nothing more than the blue
leaves. The wind picked up, and they started to swirl.
Paulie ran.
Dogs in house:
|
Houdini, Brindle, Bacon
|
Time writing:
|
~ 40 minutes
|
May word
count:
|
1,225
|
Prompt: Girl of leaves
ReplyDeleteThe wind through the trees sounded like a distant waterfall. I knew it was wind and not water because the sound ebbed and flowed with the air on my face and the dimly seen bending and waving of the branches in the evening light. I flipped my braid back into my cloak and pulled my hood farther forward. I was trying to cut down on the chill, I told myself. It was not a habit borne of hiding my face.
Geese honked overhead, likely having left our pond for a night of flying south. They would be far ahead of me by morning. The sound of the wind changed, now tinkling like a small stream. I stopped, listening, wondering if there was in fact a stream nearby. But the sound faded.
I should not have stopped. It was a fight to get my feet going--in the proper direction--again. I wanted to turn, to run back, to say I was sorry for my outburst and that I would not do as I said--I would remain home, a good daughter and sister, and waste the rest of my life caring for my brothers and their wives because of course a girl like me had no prospects and no desire for a life of her own.
Good, now I was angry again. I resumed my journey. I threw back my hood. I would not hide my face in the city. In city, no one would look at my scars then glance away, uncomfortable or angry, remembering instead those who had not survived the fire. I was not the only to survive, but I was the only who bore the marks on her face, the only who stood as a constant reminder to some of their loss and others of their stupidity.
The tinkling resumed, close and to the right, as if the wind danced alongside the road. My anger faded as I replayed my father's last words as I stormed out the door. They had seemed random and unconnected, speech misheard into the wrong words. _New moon_, _dancing leaves_.
I faced the tinkling. The branches were waving, but concentrated in a small area. And then I realised I saw no trunks. The leaves turned and faced me, forming into a girl, my height, with darkened crinkly leaves blotting the right side of her face, in the same place as my scars.
Very nice! Good characterization and back story, along with an eerie feel. I'd read more :)
Delete