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Valuables: A Tale of rapunzel

Written by Maya C.

 

His name was Nells.

The other one was Arella.

They are yet to meet.

It is not destiny;

It is not fate;

It was not meant to be;

It just happened.

 

 

 

 

 

Part 1 

Arella

 

Arella self-consciously surveyed herself in the mirror, scowling at her hair, which had a troublesome habit of frizing in cold weather. Winter had shaped her hair from a long, silky flow of gold, into something that resembled a bird’s nest, strands of hair poking out of the big, annoying, messy mass.

 

Ugh.

 

Taming her hair in the winter was close to impossible, for when fall’s pumpkins and color disappears under a blanket of white, Arella’s hair becomes a wild, frizing mess. It almost has a mind of it’s own, never minding her annoyance and countless efforts of making it look somewhat presentable. 

 

Arella finally gave up fussing over it and sighed, frustrated that she could do nothing to save her appearance from the small beast that lay upon her head. Even the largest of hairbrushes from the darkest depths of her bottom drawer could not tame the wild, unwanted state of her hair. Of course, cutting it was out of the question. 

 

“You’re lucky to have your father’s hair.” Arella’s mother, Eden, would comment almost every day. “It’s like out of a fairy tale.” She would say. “A blessing”. 

 

Why was my hair so cursed, then?, Arella would complain silently. When cold haunted the air and frost bit, her hair was anything but a blessing.

 

Of course, that was only during winter.

 

In any other time of year, Arella’s hair radiated so brightly that it might as well have been giving off it’s own light. It became lush and smooth and healthy, not a single split-end or knott flawing it. It bounced when she walked, and fell like a waterfall over her back, seemingly immune to static. It would be lightly scented of lavender without the help of perfume. It grew faster and lusher than Eden could trim it. Everyone who caught a glimpse would be envious. Arella would be proud. She would feel proud. No, it was more than that. She would feel amazing.

 

Then winter has to come and take it all away from me...

 

Eden always told Arella that she had magical hair, just to entertain her when she was little. Of course the thought of it was a creation of make-believe, but that did not keep Arella from pretending it was true. She supported the crazy theory with the fact that her hair grew twice as fast and thrice as radiant. Arella’s hair was something she was pleased with, one of the things she loved most about herself.

Eden was fond of it, too. She would barely let her trim it, let alone cut it, but when Arella’s hair grew too long and reached her waist, Eden had it cut herself, at home. Then- she claimed it to be for luck- her mother would be sure to burn each and every strand. She always reminded Arella that she had to be proud and thankful for having such a head of hair, and often compared Arella’s hair with her’s. 

Though Arella isn’t adopted, her mother looks completely different when compared with her. She has short, unkempt brown hair and clear, spotless skin. On the other hand, Arella has a few, faint freckles that linger around her nose. Eden always assured her that she looked more like her father, but Arella would never know for sure. She has never met him, and her mother had not been able to afford a painting of him before he disappeared.

 

Eden was the only family she ever had, and the only person Arella loved. She was perfect in every way, from the endless sympathy stored in her heart, to her musical voice that could shatter the image of an amazing singer. She was there for Arella her entire life, from her first word to last week, when Arella finally turned thirteen.

 

“Arella!” Eden called from somewhere in the cottage. “Come help me with breakfast!” 

      

Arella obediently abandoned her mirror and hopes of redeeming the label ‘beautiful’ for her hair, making her way into the kitchen. Sunlight poured out of the closed windows, drowning the room in light, despite the dreaded cold that lingered outside and slight chill that haunted the inside of the cottage. A fire was roaring in the side of the kitchen, warding off intruding cold and warming the room, giving the kitchen a welcoming, homey feel feel. The smell of warm porridge hung in the hair, heavy with a pleasant, sweet smell.

 

“Sugar?” Arella asked incredulously. She stared down at the handmade wooden table that her father had made before he vanished, and found two tempting bowls of porridge. “Where did you get it?” It must have cost Eden a fortune to get even a teaspoon of sugar.

“Never mind that,” Eden said, her voice bursting with excitement. “It’s a late birthday treat! I know how much you like your porridge with brown sugar, and look!” She held up a bowl to Arella. “I even found and added cinim-”

 

Arella couldn’t let her finish; Eden’s excitement had infected her, and was stronger than Arella’s awe. Arella practically threw herself onto her, almost knocking the bowl of porridge from Eden’s hands. 

 

“Thank you, Mother!” she beamed, meaning it entirely.

 

Eden hugged Arella back and replied, “You’re welcome, Arella. Now, would you like to have some? This porridge is waiting for us, and it’s getting colder by the minute.”

 

A waft of the porridge found its way into Arella’s nose, she freed her mother as she slid into one of the chairs nearby. Arella laughed as Eden scolded her for almost spilling a bowl of the precious substance, and spooned some of the warm, sweet porridge into her mouth.

 

“Mother, this is amazing!” Arella exclaimed, now more shocked than giddy with joy. Arella had always known that Eden had a talent that lived with her in the kitchen, but she had never known that it was this extraordinary. “You really could make a fortune out of becoming a cook, or a baker!”

 

Eden set her spoon down- one of the best out of the few they owned- and shook her head. The excitement dulled in the air the moment Eden spoke, the tone of her voice drastically different.

 

“You know that could never be possible,” Eden said slowly, as if letting the statement sink in.

 

“Why not?” Arella pushed. “You have the talent, and we’re one of the wealthiest families in the entire kingdom! We could afford it, and the villagers would enjoy it even more.” 

 

Eden sighed, disappointed that Arella was unable to see the big picture.

 

“You’re missing the point, Arella.” Eden explained. “We wouldn't be able to buy the supplies we needed unless the kingdom supplied more of them for us to buy.” She waved her spoon in the air as she said so, providing emphasis to her point. “We are merely one of the wealthiest families in one of the poorest kingdoms.”

 

The last bit of that sentence stained the air, making Arella feel stupid for bringing it up. Eden made more than enough money as a crafter, making spoons and pots out of wood and clay, in fact, way more than the average crafter would make, but there was not enough supplies to buy.

 

Arella nodded, slightly embarrassed if not shamed for ruining the moment with such a question. Eden offered her a sad smile.

 

“Don’t look like that, Arella. Our life is fine the way it is. With your education nearly completed, we can start searching for a good job, and it doesn’t have to be the same one I have if you’re not interested. With spring’s early arrival, we’ll soon have more berries to pick. All is well, and all will be well. Stay happy now, while you still have a reason to be.”                              

        

Arella met Eden’s eyes and broke into a true smile, one filled with understanding and hope. She was right; they had to make the most of what they had, which exceeded what Arella considered enough. She had a roof, her mother, a warm bed, and steaming food. It was all she needed and all she’ll ever need.

 

If only Arella had known that was about to change soon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Part 2 

Nells

 

The moon was laughing at him. It seemed to be anyway. There it hung, in the sky, carefree and not weighted down with troubles.

 

“I wish I could be like you,” Nells said out loud, envy clear in his voice. To escape the hardships of life would mean to leave his abusing father, his forever disgusted mother, and to still be with his loving brother. Living the carefree life was easy, but the actual escaping part was going to be difficult.

 

There was nothing more taunting than a full moon contrasted by the black night sky. Even the dully lit stars could not outshine the overwhelming light of the moon, which seemed to be laughing at Nells’s misery. It seemed to take joy in his sorrow.

At least up there, in his tree, Nells could feel free. He could feel like he was in the sky, as careless and lazy and easy going as the moon. He could feel like nothing mattered, like all was well.

 

Up in my tree, I can pretend.

 

Nells’s tree had shed its colorful leaves long before the dismissal of fall, and it’s branches were bare in the winter, not needing the promising warmth of a blanket to survive. Now, spring had summoned dark, rich green leaves to sprout from his tree. Nells leaned against the trunk, sitting on a sturdy, trustworthy branch at least a good eight feet above ground. In the summer, the cluster of leaves hanging off the branches would be thick enough for Nells to be hidden from eyes below. Not that anybody would think to look for him in the forest. 

 

Even those ghastly wolves couldn’t reach me up here. 

 

This was Nells’s tree, as he claimed. This was his forest. The sky in the forest was his. All the stars, the moon, were his. The bushes, the berries, even the unwanted mosquitoes belonged to Nells.

 

He could say and do as he pleased, he could dream whatever he wanted.

 

Obviously, Nells would dream the dream that he had always dreamed, but in his forest, this dream became reality. Dreams were reality here.

 

Nells dreamed of running away from his horrible adoptive parents, and taking his older adoptive brother with him. The two would settle in another village, no, a whole other kingdom if they could, far away from this one, and build a hut. Nells’s older brother, Zane, would find a job. Nells would finish his education and do chores whenever he had the time. And not those back-breaking chores his mother made him do, but the ones that he would do willingly.

 

Nells sighed, his muscles still tense and back still stiff. That dream could never actually come true. Zane wouldn’t leave his family behind… they were his real parents, and Nells had nowhere to go, for he had no other real family to help him out. He most definitely could not just abandon Averana to join another kingdom, and could not survive this winter without the roof that belonged to his parents.

At least in Nells’s forest he could bury myself in his own imagination, which was enough of a break from his hard, day-to-day life.

Nells was the king here, grand and mighty and royal. On this tree, in this forest, Nells was not a little boy who had been hurt in all possible ways. 

 

On my tree, in my forest, I was whoever I wanted to be.

 

That is, until reality caught up.

 

Eventually the sun would rise, marking a ‘new day’, a ‘new beginning’. Eventually, Nells would have to leave, before anybody back home woke up to his empty bed. Eventually, It would be over.

 

Nells stared at the moon, and despite his anger at it’s taunt, Nells willed it not to leave. He learned to hate the sunrise, for it brought worse than warmth and light. It brought another painful day, waiting to be lived. It brought-

 

“Nells!” 

 

He jumped, almost falling off the branch. Surprised shouts of birds and the agitated chatter of critters arose in the forest, dying down as the voice shouted once more.

 

“Nells! Where are you?! Come out here right this instant, boy!”

 

Nells barely suppressed a groan, cursing and blaming the chill of the night, though he knew it wasn’t the reason for his misfortune. Perhaps if it hadn’t been so cold, no one would have woken up so early.... However, leaving the warmth of a bed must have been anything but tempting. On the other hand, a fresh chance to catch Nells must have been plenty attractive. 

 

“Nells!” The voice hissed, which Nells instantly recognized to be his   mother’s. She was standing right below Nells’s tree, growling as if she were a dog and he was the squirrel.

 

“Coming,” Nells croaked, his voice tired of having to respond to her angry outbursts. “Calm down, I’m coming.”

 

A depressed sigh dragged in Nells’s chest, as if willing him to stay hidden in his tree, protected and safe from such threats that could penetrate his forest. Nells immediately rejected the thought despite his heart, which was racing in agreement.

 

Stalling greatly, Nells slowly made his way down the trunk of his tree, branch by branch, to where his   mother stood on the ground, wearing the most menacing scowl she could possibly conjure. Nells shoved a whimper down his throat and his fear down to a point it could not appear on his facial expression or body language.

 

Please don’t be too upset, Nells silently begged. Please…

 

What a wish… he could never be allowed the luxury of having such a forgiving mother.

 

When Nells finally found himself face-to-face with his   mother, he readied himself for a blow, possibly a lethal one. She looked more than furious, and ready to punish him beyond any limit his protective older brother could set. 

 

“Mother…” Nells started, unsure whether words would set her off. “I can explain…”

 

“Oh, I assure you, you’ll have plenty of time to explain, at home.” She snarled, anger scrunching her red face up like a sponge.

 

Nells knew all too well what that meant. As surprising as the lack of shouting was, he knew that my real punishment awaited at home, where his brother had left for his aunt’s and his father waited for an excuse to kill him. 

 

I should have known better than to get into trouble now, Nells thought bitterly, kicking up brown clouds of dirt as he headed back home with his mother. Without his brother to jump in front of him when my parents raised a hand, Nells was completely unprotected. Keeping a horribly tight grip on his wrist, Nells’s mother guided him through the forest, weaving through it as if she’d been here before, as if it were all familiar to her. This is my forest, Nells reminded himself before he could realize that he may have lost the only thing he found comfort in. And Mother is nothing but a trespasser.

 

Nonetheless, Nells could not help but question his mother’s ease of navigation. He was home nearly all the time, and so was his   mother. She was almost always kept busy with cooking and shopping when Nells was out because of his education. There was no way she could have so easily known the way from home to Nells’s tree.

 

He just kept telling himself that...

 

“How long have you known?” Nells asked, barely in a whisper. He could not stall in admitting it to himself. The forest and the trees were no longer his, not if she knew about it, or more specifically, if she knew about his frequent visits.

 

“Do not mutter to me, Nells.” 

 

“How long have you known?” Nells’s voice came out weak and unstable, threatening to break into sobs. No one would ever understand how special this place was to him, how he’d claimed it his own from the age of ten. No one would ever understand the bond he shared with it, invisible but strong. No one would, and his mother would definitely be no exception.

 

She did not answer him. Instead she kept on tugging him in the same direction, until finally, they reached the clearing. Her grip never faded as they neared their home, which sat patiently at the very edge of the village. “How long?!” Nells demanded, now more angry than upset. She had taken it all away from him now, hadn’t she? And now she was dragging Nells back to his own personal little hell, complete with the other person Nells hated the most.

 

“Don’t you dare speak to me in that tone,” Nells’s   mother warned, ready to slap him across the face. He wasn’t threatened, though. For the first time in his life, pure rage brewed in his heart. Tears stung his eyes, urging Nells to calm down, but he refused to. This would be a better time than any to run away, to burst into sprints back into his forest. Run away and never have to look back, never have to come back.

 

“How long have you known about my forest?” Nells meant for it to burst out angry, but instead it sounded more as if he were sobbing.

With this, Nells’s   mother broke into rude laughter, as if criticizing Nells, as if trying to make him look like a stupid little boy. Nells expected her to comment on the forest being ‘mine’, the very forest that the entire village was planted next to, but his   mother decided to take a more crueler route.

 

“Forest? You’re dumber than you look, boy, these are-”

 

“DON’T SAY IT!” Nells screamed, forcing his hand out of her’s, though it wasn’t enough to escape the horrible memory that tormented him.

 

Nells clamped his hands over his ears, blocking out the reminder of where his twin sister had just died recently, merely a week ago, devoured by wolves. What a horrible way to die. The two had been through so much together; they had even witnessed their parents die, hand in hand. Nells’s  mother knew very well what happened, and why he disliked referring to the area as the woods, but she insists on doing so, just to see him cringe. Today it made him do more than that.

 

Nells’s sister had been different. She had been his actual sister, born from the same mother as Nells was. They had shared the same father, who had lost his life the same way their mother had.

 

Nells’s old parents were nothing like the people he called ‘mother’ and ‘father’ now. They had loved him as parents should love their son. They hadn’t waited for the moment Nells made even the slightest mistake, just so they could have the pleasure of lashing out at him.

Nells’s birth parents had loved him in a way my new brother’s mixture of kindness and pity could not even begin to compare. 

 

“Don’t you yell at me!” His mother exclaimed, shoving Nells into their house. Her house. Nells’s house had burned down long ago, along with his beloved parents and all our possessions, reduced to nothing more than ash.

 

Ash. Nothing. They were nothing now; his beautiful past was gone.

 

Nells stumbled into the house, the burning fire’s light aiding his eyes enough so he could just make out where the furniture was. As the fire flickered, the shadows danced as if excited by his entrance. Nells’s father was lounging lazily in a chair, his back slumped and his posture flawed. If his eyes weren’t open, Nells could have sworn he was sleeping. When he noticed Nells’s arrival, however, he straightened, eager to be entertained by what suffering awaited Nells.

 

“So you’re back,” Nells’s father noticed, evil clearly seeping through his voice. He stood, pushing off against the chair. Though Nells was almost as tall as him, being just thirteen, he knew very well that his father could overpower him with ease. He practically towered over Nells. It was well over intimidating, what with the fire casting illumining shadows around his face.

 

… Against my will, though. Nells silently reminded him. Nells didn’t need to tell him, one glance of expression said everything.

 

Nells’s father frowned, as if I Nells said that last part out loud, burdening the air with the thought. He shook his head, as if disappointed of what an ignorant and stupid child Nells was. 

 

“You forget,” Nells’s father started as Nells’s mother shut the door behind him. “That we are your family now, not just your guardians. However, any kindness will have to be earned. Now tell me, does running away from us show any respect?”

 

“I didn’t run away.” Nells corrected, looking anywhere but into his   father's dark, chilling eyes. Nells’s   mother stood next to him, and standing next to each other, they created an illumining wall that had a creepy illusion, silhouetted by the fire’s eerie glow.

 

I looked at their faces, trying to see a kind of reply, or some sign of forgiveness, when I had the most terrifying moment of realization. These people weren’t human, they couldn’t be. They had to be demons, minions of the Devil. The look on their faces suggested the desire of pure evil, the willingness of their actions were too great.

 

 With one look at their faces, a clear message read, We are not your parents, we never were, and we do not plan to ever be. We put on a good show, pretending to at least be able to tolerate you. We hate you. We feed off your misery. Now no one is looking, and we have good reasons, very good reasons, to be furious. We can do whatever we like with you…

 

Though they didn’t say it out loud, I knew they were thinking that hard enough so the message would seep out of their brains and stain the air. Their intentions for me were anything but good. Death must be lurking somewhere in this house, just waiting for my parents to give me to him.

 

“You’ll have to understand, Nells,” My mother started as she began drawing the blinds close. “That we are about to punish you this way because we love you, and because we all know you deserve it.”

 

I panicked as the words flashed in my brain, white and hot and loud, No one is looking…

 

If they really wanted to, they could kill me. That would be the easy way out for me, though. They took pleasure in watching me suffer, as I have seen many times before, from the satisfied smirk of seeing me sprawled across the floor, polishing every last inch, to the hysterical laughter of seeing me devastated after realizing that my parents were forcing me to repeat a year of my education, despite my average grades.

 

“Punish me in what way?” I wasn’t sure if asking would do me any good. Had they planned this major punishment for months, waiting to catch me mess up this much without my brother around? Or had they discussed it when they realized that the lump under my bed was just hay?

 

No one said anything. My mother drowned the fire as my father lit a single candle, which he set on a table.

 

They finally cornered me, I thought. No brother, their wickedness strong enough to tear the world apart, a good excuse …

 

How long had they known about my secret escapes? I wondered again. Had they known for weeks, or had they just found out? Had they been waiting for my brother to leave, just so they could get to me without a brick wall in the way?

 

“Nells,” My father said, interrupting my thoughts. Should I yell for help? Was I really in any danger? Would they do anything that bad?

No one can help you… The white, hot words flashed in my mind yet again, this time lingering longer and stinging harder than it had before. “You cannot just leave without telling us. You had us worried sick, goodness knows what could have happened to you…” My father sighs deeply, as if greatly troubled by the thought. I wore a blank mask over my scowl, hiding my disgust of his act.

 

“We cannot let you do this to us again,” My mother seemed to be choking back on a dramatic sob. She kept her eyes shut tight, her hand over her mouth.

 

How pathetic, I thought sourly. Just minutes ago, she was reminding me of my sister’s brutal death, cackling evilly. Just minutes ago, she was indignant, not sorrowful.

 

With one last heartbroken look at each other, my parents blew out the flickering flame of the candle, the only source of light left, leaving me in the dark. Literally.

 

Squinting, pleading my eyes to adjust to the darkness, I tried to make out where my parents were. I could not, however, and ended up crashing into the wall after several misplaced  steps. I never was fond of the dark.

 

Suddenly, without warning, I felt the unmistakable, familiar whip of a belt against my cheek. It hit with such force that it made a horrible cracking sound that echoed painfully through the house. 

 

Tears immediately sprung to my eyes, and a gentle hand had collected them. “Useless” Nells’s mother spat at the tears as rubbed them underneath her fingers. “He’s not one of them.”

 

Before I could cry out, something hit my head with a thud, and I fell into a blackness even deeper than before.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Part 3

Arella

 

Arella placed both of their bowls into the sink, marking the moment finished. The warmth and joyfulness of her birthday and it’s perks had to be sent away. For now, it was back to reality. 

 

I still had about three months more of home school, just because I had decided that I wanted to learn to write as well as read. Mother had work, which took up almost all of her time, leaving me to learn by myself. It seemed as if we would be trapped in our dull lives for another decade.

 

“I’m going to my workshop.” My mother pushed our chairs in. “I was wondering if you would like to come with me this time.”

 

The thought of the question made me stop in my tracks. My mother usually never allowed me breaks from my studying, anxious to get my education over with and onto a good, solid job. Though I never saw a need to rush through this time of my life, my mother insisted that I might as well have the experience of a paying job as soon as possible instead of putting it off.

 

Naturally, I agreed eagerly, glad to spend more time with my mother. And I knew she was glad to spend more time with me.

I headed back into my room and grabbed my coat, which had been folded neatly in my drawer, ready for me to grab. I slipped it on and stole a quick glance of myself in the mirror, making sure I looked presentable enough. Just as I left my bedroom and entered the kitchen, my mother reminded me, “Don’t forget your hat!”

 

“Mother,” I responded. “I’m fine. It isn’t that cold outside.”

 

“I insist, please.”

 

“But-”

 

“Arella…” My mother said in a strict tone that she only saved for special occasions, and rarely ever used on me.

Sighing, I returned to my bedroom and searched for my hat, digging through cabinets of clothing. It wasn’t really the hat itself that annoyed me, but the way my mother insisted I wore it. She would tell me to tuck in all my hair to conserve warmth. I had no idea how that worked, but I obeyed my mother anyway. I had always trusted her judgement, whether it was important, or just a tip. 

 

“Ready.” I said as I entered the kitchen again.

 

“Great,” my mother said as she tucked in a lock of my hair. “Let’s go.”

 

. . .

 

My mother owned a small tent that lay in the middle of a market. Though the persisting shouts of prices and discounts were bothersome, my mother had grown used to it. I, on the other hand, found them somewhat frightening. Fully grown women and men yelling at me and practically forcing me to purchase their goods wasn’t exactly what I considered normal.

 

My mother prefered working by herself. I’d noticed that she’d been working less lately, leaving late and coming home early, which was odd, considering that she loved her job.  Though her talent definitely had to do with cooking and baking, she specialized in pottery, too. Her designs were unlike any other in the kingdom, so demand for her work was high.

 

“Arella,” My mother started as she unbuckled and entered the tent. I followed. Inside, an array of carefully painted pots and pallets of lush colors sat on a desk. On a stool were containers of vibrant paint that only my mother knew how to make. The entire tent gave of a positive vibe that pulled in customers, and washed anyone who entered with a wave of cheer. I faced my mother as she continued. “I’ve been thinking… I’m… I’m going to be leaving my job. At least for a while.”

 

“Leaving?” I asked incredulously. Before I could worry about money, I blurted out, “Why?”

 

“It’s just temporary. It’s like… It’s like a little break. For me, I mean. I’ve been needing a vacation.”

 

That made sense. Over the passing days, my mother had looked more and more stressed, and lately seemed reluctant to go to work.

 

“Oh, well, you deserve it.” I responded half-heartedly. I should be happy for her, I scolded myself. Why am I feeling like this?

Why was I feeling suspicious? I had never felt this way towards my mother before.

 

But I kept my mouth shut. I shouldn’t be complaining, especially if I’m so quick to jump to conclusions. Still, though. The tone in her voice seemed to confirm my unsure thoughts. 

 

“It’s just that my job can be so stressful at times.” My mother explained further, brushing aside a lock of her greying hair.

 

“I understand, Mother.”

 

“And I wanted to spend more time with you.” That made me smile, even though I already knew it. 

 

We spent the rest of the day packing up, and painting pots that had been left to dry from yesterday. We even managed to sell a few to some awed customers. 

 

“You’re so talented,” I admired my mother’s work as I created yellow swirls with a brush.

 

“Everyone has a talent.” My mother responded.

 

“Well, you have so many!” I exclaimed, partially jealous. “You’re the best singer, baker, chef, drawer, painter-”

 

“Actually,” My mother pointed out. “I guess you could just call me a good artist. All those fall under that category. So that’s one talent.”

 

I smiled. “That’s cheating.”

 

Soon the sky grew dark, and the chatter outside the tent dimmed as shop owners left with their pockets jingling. I sighed, knowing what this meant. It was time to go home.

 

I helped my mother close up shop and carry a few boxes. On our way home, my mother explained, “I’ll be gone for a couple days at the end of his week. I have business to do.”

 

“That’s fine, mother. I can handle two days on my own.”

 

At that, my mother tensed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Arella! At home, all by yourself?”

 

“ Well, I-”

 

“ I’m sorry, Arella, but it's out of the question. We’ll just have you go over to Amy’s. I’m sure she’ll be happy to have you.”

 

I could barely keep from groaning out loud. Whenever my mother leaves to somewhere without me, I always have to spend the day with Amy. Despite the fact that Amy and my mother were very close friends, with her non-stop chatter about homemade remedies, she didn’t exactly make my visits interesting. Her cottage always smelled oddly of green beans, and strangely resembled a jungle; the many potted plants she kept inside were to blame. Amy was very old, and kept herself tucked away, hidden in her cottage.

 

“Mother, I can handle myself! Besides, Amy is only a few houses away. And even then, I won’t need her. I’ll stay home and keep the blinds shut.”

 

My mother stayed quiet for a while, and all that could be heard was our footsteps.

 

“I would feel much better if you stayed with Amy. Why don’t you want to go? I thought you liked her.”

 

“It’s not that, it’s just…” I searched my brain for what was really bothering me. It wasn’t really Amy herself that was the problem... “It’s just… Don’t you trust me?”

 

My question caught my mother off guard. “I’m old enough, now. You don’t need to take so many precautions. You need to trust that I can take care of myself.”

 

My mother didn’t respond. Instead, she sighed and just kept walking. By the expression on her face, I could tell that she just wished I would cooperate, that I didn’t understand it properly.

 

Finally, my mother spoke. “I’ll knock five times. Don’t answer the door to anyone.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Part 4

Nells

 

The familiar, comforting scent of pine and dirt filled my nose. My head was slowly being eaten away by pain, and the rest of my body was in no better state. My back ached and my muscles moaned. I could have sworn that every single bone in my body had been reduced to dust. My skull felt cracked to a point of nearly shattering.

 

Why do I hurt so much? 

 

I was on my back, facing the sky, or the very little I could see of it. The tops of trees claimed the sky their own, spreading wide and growing thick, impenetrable leaves. The winter in the wind seemed to have retreated for the moment, giving into spring’s soon arrival… arrival that shouldn’t have happened until a couple weeks. There were birds chirping somewhere overhead, bathing me in song that I had waited months for. 

 

I was allowed about five minutes of peace until worry began catching up. It took realization another minute to hit me, drowning me in panic and fear. Despite the solace that the forest offered, a horrible, mixed feeling grew inside my heart, spreading quick and infecting every last inch of me.

 

How did I get here? Where are they?

 

I sat up, even with the pain willing me not to do so. I was in the deeper part of the forest, more deeper than I had ever dared to go. The amount of overgrowth was unbelievable, and the trees towered over me, almost as taunting as the moon had always been. Rays of sunlight fought through the canopy of thick leaves overhead, but only barely succeeded. 

 

I was in the forest, but not my forest. These trees were far from welcoming, and the mosquitoes were more menacing than pesky. The animals that lurked here were far more dangerous than the occasional deer or squirrel I would have found. 

 

They must have brought me here, this must be their punishment, I thought sourly. It wasn’t a very good one, considering I spent countless nights in this forest, no matter how deep in. I could have laughed out loud, for if anything, I would be more comfortable surrounded by vegetation and wildlife than with my parents. 

 

However, all I knew was my forest. I had never gone so deep in, more afraid of becoming lost and not being able to find my way home than of the actual, dangerous heart of the forest. My kingdom of green and my throne in the tree was all I knew, but clearly, my parents knew more. To know how to bring me here and still find their way back was beyond what I would have thought they were capable of.

I wasn’t sure exactly what they expected, and I wouldn’t put anything like being eaten by an animal past them. Did they expect me to die out here? To get lost? To find another place to call home? Or was it to return home, bruised, scratched, hungry, and shaken up by my journey?

 

I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do just yet, though. I was so tired and confused, that it was hard to think straight about anything. All I knew was that whatever choice I made, it would include me finding my way out of this place.

 

It was only the journey that I had to fear, I had realized. The forest was dimly lit, and who knew what was lurking in the shadows. Getting out of here alive might be a task too difficult for me. It’s fine. I assured myself. This isn’t too much to fear. If anything, being away from my parents is a good thing. If my journey had to stretch over days, so be it. I could survive this, maybe if I was lucky enough to avoid any dangerous creatures that called this gloomy place home. I had the only material I needed right here with me.

 

With the thought came the awareness that my pockets felt lighter than usual, the comforting weight from my side missing. Dread thickening, I reached for my trusty pocket knife, only to catch a handful of empty air. Panicking, I fished in my other pocket, only to find a crumpled note in place of my knife.

 

The lines on the parchment were incredibly creased with age. I straightened the paper out gently, careful not to damage it, not giving a second thought as to why the note would appear to be so old. A quick skim told me that I would not be able to bear reading the note out loud. For my sake, I read the note silently, already aware of who it was from and what purpose it held.

 

 

 

This is what happens to disobedient boys who insist on staying in the woods. They end up like your sister, who was so dreadfully careless that she got herself killed. Find your way home.

 

 

 

I read it over six times.

 

I was so tempted to rip the fragile paper in half that I was actually shaking with rage. After everything, had they actually thought that I would be willing to come back home? Were they peering out the windows right now, eagerly waiting for me to come crawling back? I glared at the paper that was crumbling under my merciless grip. They had taken it all from me, and they expect me to come back ‘home’?

 

Were they really serious?

 

In the confusion of my rage, for a second I was partially convinced that I should just die, and be with my real family. It was the best way out of my misery. I could just leave these horrible parents behind, my awaiting torture, and just let go of my past. 

But is the price of freedom really my life? 

 

They, my demonic parents, had just let me free. I was no longer within their power and watchful eyes. My dream could become reality, not entirely, but close enough. I could finally live a life of adventure and freedom, away from my past. I had all I really needed with me, valuable memories that would always mean the world to me. Of course, I had to find my way out of this forest, find a food source until then, find a way to create fire…

 

 I suddenly found myself in a midst of problems. They hadn’t left anything that could have been useful to me. I didn’t have my pocket knife, which meant I had no means of getting myself fire, protection, or meat. I had no extra clothing to help me through the coldness of night, and there was no water source, or none that I knew of, in the forest.

 

I instantly became aware of my parched throat, and my greedy stomach. I had assumed that I must have been out for no more than a day: My parents knocked me out at night, brought me here, and I woke up now, in the afternoon. I doubted that it could have been longer. Yet already, my body was pleading for the necessities.

 

All these problems spelled out the same message: I was going to die. They want me to die out here.

 

I’m gonna die.

 

 

 

 

 

Part 5 

Nells 

 

One thing to know about Nells: He was not one to give up… at least not admit it, not even to himself. But sometimes, one has to do the reasonable thing. But sometimes the reasonable thing is stupid.

 

Nells stubbornly refused to allow despair to swallow him, though it had already pierced his heart. They’re only doing this to trip me, Nells tried to convince himself, yet very doubtful. They wouldn’t have me fall.

 

Though he had considered the possibility countless times before, Nells had half-heartedly reasoned that even these parents wouldn’t actually want him killed… right? It wouldn’t be worth the trouble, and besides, why would they want to? They wouldn’t gain anything if Nells was gone…

 

Even if they weren’t human.

 

Shuddering violently at the thought, Nells picked himself off the ground. The facts were too obvious to push them aside and ignore them any longer.

 

They expect me to die out here. 

 

Yet Nells knew that there had to be another reason. Why did they want him dead? It couldn’t just be their hatred for him, their thirst for torture. If that was true, they would have kept him alive, but barely.

 

Pondering these questions now wouldn’t do him any good, Nells summed. It was time to go to the place labeled, ‘home’, though the label had no real meaning. Home wasn’t supposed to be discomforting. But home proved to be Nells’s only option. At least there he could get some answers.

 

Nells had almost no means of surviving long in these woods, and he had admitted it to himself. Even the journey back home would be a risky one. And a long one. But then again, he had no other choice. 

 

Nells surveyed the whisked white and blue above him, spotting the sun behind crowds of trees, pretty low in the sky. Based on the chirping of the many birds that inhabited the woods, he concluded that the sun had just risen. 

 

East, Nells thought. Just think ‘east’.

 

Nells pushed all thoughts and questions aside as he headed towards the sun, shielding branches and leaves from his eyes, and jumping over fallen trees. He avoided spiders and slapped at bugs. He listened to the buzzing of insects, the occasional chirping of birds, the snap of twigs under his feet, and the constant crumbling in his pocket. It was the thing that kept him going, knowing that note was still at his side. The sound drowned out his body’s plead for food and water.

 

That note.

 

Nells wasn’t sure why he had held onto it. He couldn’t explain it to himself. It would be easier to just throw it on the ground, crumble it up, rip it to pieces. To stomp on it. To curse at it.

 

To abandon it in the woods, just as his parents had done to him.

 

But for some reason, Nells couldn’t bring himself to do it. Besides, his mind wasn’t on the note, much. This more menacing side of the woods had reminded him of his sister’s horrible fate.

 

That of course, reminded him of his sister.

 

Nells’s twin sister, Neoma, had had wavy black hair that resembled the flow of calming waves, and dark, chocolate brown eyes. Before the death of their parents, Neoma and Nells would visit the woods together. Neoma had always been awed with the night, pointing out every single beautiful thing. She would admire the stars and the fireflies and the moon. She loved the dark, and the cooling chill it usually promised. She would move as quietly as a ghost, and her voice was gentle and soft.

 

One night, the two had fallen asleep in the woods, and hadn’t woken up until close to sunrise. They had hurried home, angry with themselves and each other, praying that no one at home had noticed them missing.

 

“We’re so dead,” Neoma had said as the two raced through the woods.

 

When they entered the village, they immediately noticed loud shouts and screams staining air. A house, a single house, had been set ablaze. It was the biggest fire the village had ever seen. Where the fire came from, no one knew, but it was later summed that it had occurred by an accident. They hadn’t know that it was their house, but nonetheless, Nells and Neoma had rushed to the scene, only to be devastated at the sight.

 

It was so much fire, all of it focused on only one food source. Red and yellow, licking away at their house, dancing as though it was beckoning Nells and Neoma to enter, to burn with their family. Their house, their parents, the only family Neoma and Nells had, dying before their eyes. It was enough to break any thirteen-year-old appart. 

 

Nells had lost it. The only thing keeping him from jumping into the fire after his parents was Neoma.

 

“Don’t Neal,” She had pleaded. “They’re already gone. There’s no screaming. It’s too late.”

 

The loud cackling and thick smoke of the fire had seemed to agree with Neoma. This had happened nineteen days ago, not long enough for the pain of it to dim. If Nells focuses hard enough, he can still feel the heavy heat on his face, strong enough to push him back.

 

 

. . .

 

 

Nells couldn’t ignore his thirst or the aching in his feet any longer; If he didn’t stop to rest soon, he might collapse. He hated to admit it to himself, but Nells wasn’t going to make it out of the forest in one day at this pace. Despite this, he allowed himself a little rest. He leaned against a tree, cursing at the mysterious bruises that he didn’t remember getting. They didn’t look fresh, though, more on the healing side. His parents must have beaten him further after he had blacked out before.

 

Which meant he had been out longer than he had though. But of course, Nells was too busy reliving his worst nightmare.

 

Nells could still see the the fire consuming his house, tears glistening in his sister’s eyes, tears that seemed to have frozen and never fell, the smoke rising… If Nells focused hard enough, he could still feel the heavy heat on his face, strong enough to push him back.

 

That horrible, dreaded heat.

 

The fire hadn’t spread, for some reason, and shamefully, Nells hadn’t thought about the possibility at the time. All he could care about was his parents. And the fire. The fire that had not only destroyed their house and loved ones, but also Nells’s and Neoma’s hearts. Neoma had shaken her head, looking at the ground, her hand over her mouth, the other fingering her key necklace, and Nells was torn between diving into the fire to search for his parents that may still be alive, or comforting his sister.

 

“I’m on my own, now.” Nells had thought he heard his sister mutter. And her heavy tears finally fell, hitting the ground head on.

“No, Neoma, you’re not. That isn’t true. We have each other.” Nells had said almost immediately, slightly surprised that Neoma could ever think so. Hadn’t they always been there for each other? How could she just throw that all away in one statement?

 

Yes, yes I am. You don’t understand, Nells. Neoma had thought silently, angry. Angry at her parents for dying, at her mother for dying, leaving her by herself. Neoma was ready to unload all of that anger onto Nells. Instead, she turned into her brother’s welcoming arms. 

She was now the only one who had the means of accessing their family fortune, buried under a tree, in the forest, under dirt to keep their family safe from targeting. Money that had all been made by their great grandmother, money that all kinds of evil had tried to hack at for generations.

 

She was also the only one who was burdened by her secret.

 

Or so she had thought.

 

...

 

 

For a second, all Nells could hear was his own heartbeat, and his smooth, deep breathing. All he could think of was Neoma.

Until a howl broke the silence.

 

A wolf, Nells panicked, the sound triggering a nervous sweat. His worst fear.

 

Nells could have kicked himself, had he not already been in his damaged state. He had let himself fall asleep, leaning on this tree. Nells cursed out loud, realizing that the sun had left him to make do with the moon’s dim light. Despite his frequent visits in the dark, the thought of traveling alone scared him, especially this deep into the forest. Frantically, Nells pulled himself to his feet at the sound of another howl, this one closer than the last.

 

Nells’s first thought was to get above ground, but the high branches were well out of reach and kept him from climbing. Heart thumping violently, Nells urged himself to calm down, and free himself of the doubts of his safety. After another howl broke free, however, he shut his eyes and curled into a ball, as if he could hide underneath his eyelids. Any bravery he had holed up inside of him had evaporated to nothing more than a wisp.

 

I am going to die out here. Nells scolded himself, but couldn’t help but think of his inevitable fate. They’re probably hungry… and they can smell me, can’t they? They’re so close…

 

Another close howl confirmed his panicked thoughts.

 

He was trapped. Believing so, he created a cage with his limbs, seeking protection from the very thing that could have gotten him killed. It’s a good thing he decided to run after a long, suspenseful silence...

 

Nells wasn’t even thinking when he broke into a sprint; all of his nerves had been building up inside of him, trying to stay calm, until they burst. 

 

He wasn’t thinking at all; not about why or where exactly he was running to. For all he knew, he was running towards the threat.

At the moment, he only had one thought: Run.

 

 

 

 

Maya C. is a 16 year old writer from Argentina who is currently toiling over a book of short stories with hand-drawn, personalized illustrations. Her favorite poet is Robert Frost, and her favorite poem is "A Road not Taken".