Okay, so I got off my writing craze a while ago, but I feel so guilty for never picking up again. Plus, I'm trying to get ready for Christmas, juggling depression and exhaustion, and all that, so it's been insane balancing that, and I'm homeschooled, so no pre-Christmas luxury…. Yup, chaos…

I hope Saunders understands: )

Okay so, I don't know the details of Saunders's childhood, but this is my take on it, so, yes, I do love reviews, and I know you all have brains out there, so please use them to send me a nice, encouraging review! I love hearing what you all think, and everything ranging from pointers, ideas, prompts, anything!

See you at the end of the story,

Equine

Disclaimer: I bet you don't know this yet- they aren't mine! Surprise! Cake anyone? (Don't know why I said that, I really want cake right now!)

This is a story about when I was a boy.

It feels like such a long time ago now, because then it was… then, just then. Now it is a forever ago, and I still look back and wonder how I got this far, and how far I have left to go. War really makes you think, like every moment begins to have more meaning. Each time a second passes you are unmistakably closer to death, though how close, it is uncertain.

Just like we watch out the windows for people we love to come home, well, that's how I used to live my whole life- in excitement, at least until my father died.

Oh, but there was never a dull moment with three boys in the house, the youngest just a baby.

Well, it happened on June fifth, whichever year it was I was twelve, sometime in late day. I remember because my mother sat on the porch, one leg crossed over the other. She had her hair down, and it glistened chestnut against her shoulders. She was watching me teach Joey how to properly climb a tree so that he wouldn't fall over on his face. Now Joey must have been three years old, but I, a twelve-year-old boy, didn't know that this was far too young an age to attempt climbing a mighty oak. In the end, Joey did fall on his face, but Mother only smiled as we sat there trying to figure out what part of the operation had gone wrong. My seven-year-old brother, Henry, came around from the back of the shed, holding a tiny black mouse cupped in his hands. The creature quivered and rolled it's tiny, ink-dark eyes at him, and of course, Mother rushed off the porch and told Henry to release the poor animal because it was frightened. Reluctantly, he set it down, and it scampered off into the tall grass without a sound or a single glance over its shoulder. Of course, Henry had been scolded, and he felt pretty bad about it; he hated being scolded by Mother. I knew it dented what little pride he had left since Father had died. He used to be very close to our father, and they did all sorts of things together- I think that's what made Henry feel needed. But now he was an empty shell, and showed the world what they wanted to see, not what he was. Mother knew that, I knew that.

So, I let mother take Joey inside, because he was getting hungry and I went after Henry, who I knew was going to his favorite place.

Through the trees beyond the house, right where the sun sets on western horizon, there lies a little clearing in the shrubbery- if you go there today, chances are good that it's still there. No larger than a puddle, a "pond" sits amongst it, and on either side, two logs, which we had rolled there three years ago. We called the place "Doorstep Grove," because three feet away was a little shed, and one of the logs was only a short distance from the doorstep. I found Henry there, his skinny arms wrapped around his legs. He was staring at a dragonfly. I paused a minute to admire the sharp glint of the sun on the pond, and how it reflected on the dragonfly's gossamer wings. The insect, once it realized it had an audience, flitted off, never to come calling again, I'll assume. I never saw another dragonfly on that pond after that day… Maybe because I stopped going there after Dad died, and this visit would be one of my last before I realized there was a world beyond that house and it's surrounding forest.

"Henry," I sat down next to him, "Mother's just trying to keep you safe." I put on my big brother voice, straightening up, and sitting next to his little brother.

Henry ignored me and picked up a nearby stick. He began to draw patterns in the water.

I tried again, taking a different and completely random approach, "Did you see Mr. Lodsky today?" I was referring to a childhood game we used to play- me and Henry, we'd sit and talk to our imaginary friend, Mr. Lodsky. Some days I wished he was real, so I could have someone to talk to, besides Henry.

Henry dropped the stick in the pond and watched as the ripples matured into larger rings.

"No. But I saw a deer. Over there." He pointed to a thicket, through which the setting sun had begun to glow.

"A buck?"

"No, a doe. A tiny one. She was very quiet, I would'a missed her, only…." he looked down. "Someone was hunting."

I looked up sharply, "Someone shot her? Here?"

"Yes, a man. With a big black hat, and an angry face." He tried to mimic it with his seven-year-old expression, and failed hilariously.

"You could have been hurt, though, Henry. Why didn't you tell us?"

"Because…. Mother. I was afraid she was going to scold me, like all the other times. With the mouse… I was only trying to have fun. And it was a nice mouse, wasn't it, Chip?"

"Yeah." I stared at the pile of dead leaves steeping in the murky water at our feet. The sun was lower now, and I heard the screen door open, before Mother's voice rang out through the property, "Dinner, boys! Chip, don't forget to make sure you lock the shed and check the gate!"

"Comin'!" we yelled.

I stood up, holding out my hand. "C'mon, Henry, dinner's waiting."

"Okay."

As he stood up, he asked, "Chip, why do you have to do all those things- check the shed and gate?"

"Because I'm older."

"You mean 'cause you're the oldest boy in the house?"

"Yeah, guess so."

"Do you miss him?" Henry looked up at the sky like he was checking for a falling star, "Daddy, I mean?" He kept staring. The stars began to dust the night sky, like spilled rice.

"Yeah. I do," I turned. "Guess I got used to being a kid, I want to help Mother, its just-"

I almost smacked myself. What was I thinking, spilling my troubles out on the kid?

"-hard? I know." Henry looked up at me wisely. All I saw in those two huge galaxies that were his eyes, was admiration. "Chip? You want me to check the gate with you?"

I grasped his hand a little tighter, somewhere inside me knowing that there would come a day I wouldn't be able to hold it anymore.

"Sure, kid. I'd like that."

So, what did you think? Thanks so much for reading, and I apologize for any mistakes. I'm a little shaky about posting this; a guest recently reviewed in a really inappropriate and hurtful way, and I couldn't really get back on my feet very fast.

Again, thank you all so much for reading, and have a great week!