The Lumberjack's Son
Green…there was none other with such a unique scent, was what Mello found himself thinking as he stood before a particularly large conical tree, inhaling the deep scent of mud and mist. It was a scent he was accustomed to, being the son of a lumberjack. Son of a lumberjack, the lumberjack's son, that was him, or at least who he used to be, he thought bitterly. Closing his eyes, he sighed, breathing in deeply, filling his lungs, before letting all the air slipped out of him.
It was great to be in the woods again, to feel the humid, chilly air moistening his skin, and hear the sounds of life echoing in the trees, and of course, the best of all, the smell of timber. With his eyes closed, he could still hear in his mind the sound of wood splitting in two somewhere in the distance, the sound of mud splashing and leaves crunching under the weight of a large, strong man and if he just focused a little more, he'd catch a glimpse of the gentle brown eyes that always looked back at him to make sure his little boy was following behind.
"You alright there, Mihael?" the scruffy man in his plaid shirt and soiled jeans would always ask.
"Sure pops, I got it," he said, remembering himself answering in that small boy's voice he had before puberty finally met up with him.
He let himself drift deeper into the memory as the smell of green flooded his senses, it was like seeing the light at the long end of a dark tunnel, always returning his hope and faith when he has none left, making him believe that he can go on, if just for another day.
Time left him behind as he lost himself under the shadow of the canopy, but he didn't mind, he didn't need to be anywhere else. This was the only place he wanted to be, right here with the ghost of his old man.
He traced a face in his mind, the outline of a square jaw, with a woolly beard, wrinkles under those light brown eyes and around a flat nose, curly hair tucked under a worn cap, and that ever tender smile that touches all of his features. If only he could've inherited any one of those traits, he wished regrettably. He didn't have his father's face, nor his stature, nor even his nature, but of course, that was only to be expected, considering they didn't share the same DNA. He frowned at the thought, of how nature always wins despite the many efforts he tried to change it. With piercing blue eyes, a full head of strawberry blonde hair and his small physique, there was no way nature was ever going to let him forget what he truly was-an accident. At the very least, if he could have gotten his mother's green eyes, he'd still had a chance of hiding it, the fact that he wasn't his father's son, but no, nature shows no mercy.
No, that wasn't what he came here to think about, he told himself, shifting his mind back to recollecting the better times in his life, of the days spent with his father chopping down trees with an axe and a saw, or the days searching for rare bugs for their collection, or bird watching in the early mornings, or the times they had down by the river where they fished and hunted for turkeys. He pulled them out of the recesses of his mind one by one, making sure that they didn't get buried too deep that he'd forget about them.
Finally, after hours of being alone in the same spot, he was satisfied, though still reluctant to leave and face the cold reality that awaits him. But as the lone wolf begins to howl in the distance, he knew he had no choice but to get a move on, or risk turning into dinner.
He followed the tract out of the woods, walking slowly, and focusing on the road ahead instead of the lingering sorrow which trails along with him every time he leaves his safe haven. Finding his bike waiting for him at the edge of the forest, he looked back one last time, whispering to the trees, "See you, pops."
Mello sped at full speed on the highway, the tree leaves rustling slightly as he passed by, riding straight into Haverville, a small town that wasn't even worth mentioning on the map. The town wasn't much to begin with and a few hundred years wasn't going to do much to change that. The only notable trait about it was its lumber trade, and even that wasn't something especially exceptional. It was a sleepy town on the verge of entering a comatose state, until the government decided to built the highways, so now at least every now and then, there'd be tourists, although most were accidental rather than intentional. Truth of the matter is, who'd really want to see a town with a handful of miniature shops with plaster falling off their walls, with the only source of entertainment being the supermarket at the corner of town? It wasn't funny, not even as a joke.
On top of that, the people weren't exactly all that friendly, at least not to Mello, they weren't. Nasty small town folks whose brains were so lost in the dark ages, they'd accuse anything of blasphemy. Mello hated every single one of them, the ladies whispering as they get their groceries about his mother being a sinner, about him defiling their town, or just about what happened to his old man four years ago. He hated it so much, enough to make him turn his bike around and just ride out of the town gates and never look back, but he couldn't, he had his mother to think about, plus he knew he wouldn't last very long without money and a real plan.
It was all about timing, and it wasn't time yet, he had to be patient, he told himself. There was a better way, a smarter way of doing things and it was called, "The Whammy's Student of Excellence Award." Every year for the past ten year's, Whammy's, the best of the Ivy Leagues in the country offers one seat and full paid scholarship including allowance to the top student at Penrich High School, and this year, Mello plans to claim that prize for his own. It had been his plan since it was thirteen, and now, at his last year of high school, being top of his class, he could almost feel himself breaking free from the chains that held him to the small forsaken town.
His bike rumbled to a halt in front of the supermarket. He got down, taking off his helmet and walked into the shop without bothering to check himself in the mirror, knowing that no matter what he looked like, they'd still talk about him behind his back. That's probably the reason why he started to wear leather from head to toe.
Without needing to search around, he found his way to the snack aisle, and got himself a bar of chocolate. He tore it opened with his teeth and took a bite out of it, wondering if they'd give him problems today for not paying first. He figured, since they treated him like an outlaw, he might as well act like it.
The taste of chocolate was absolutely heavenly, he smiled taking another bite, noting the lady who was staring at him at the end of the aisle. When he turned, she quickly scurried away, her trolley moving noisily, and not the least bit discreetly.
Sighing, he grabbed two more chocolate bars, and decided to walk around in the mall, trying to buy some time before he had to go home and explain what happened to his face. He strolled leisurely, and found himself at an aisle he hadn't visited in years. He was about to walk pass it until he saw a little boy standing between the two shelves, looking intently at something.
Usually he tried to avoid any sort of contact with the other town folks, but he had never seen that boy before, and he was pretty sure he knew everyone in town, it was just one of those 'must' that came along with living in Haverville. He took some time to studied the boy a little longer. Pale, he concluded, the boy was pale, and…small…and he was glowing white under the light. He looked so surreal somehow, and Mello suddenly felt a need to confirm whether he was real or not.
Taking a few steps forward, he came next to the boy, who was still staring intently in front of him, not reacting to his presence in any way, which was odd considering how striking his clothing was. Typically, whenever kids saw him, they'd run away, or at least flinch. He bent down and followed the boy's gaze to a robot toy standing in a box on the shelf in front of them.
"Do you like that?" he found himself inquiring unconsciously.
The boy didn't respond but kept his eyes on the toy, his face was unreadable. Mello found it a little creepy, to be honest, but he wasn't about to leave the boy alone just yet. Slowly, he took the toy from the shelf and was glad to see that the child's eyes moved with his hand.
"Do you want this?" he asked, trying to offer a friendly smile.
The boy stared up him with his dark grey eyes and Mello couldn't help himself from gasping, the boy, or maybe it was a girl, he wasn't sure, was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Mello blushed, suddenly nervous, or maybe it was excitement, it was hard to tell, all he knew was that there was adrenaline pulsing through his veins suddenly. Get a grip, she's just a baby! Some part of his brain seemed to yell at him, for which he was grateful for. Slapping a smile back on his face, he tried his best to act like his normal self.
"Where are your parents?" the blonde questioned, handing the toy over to the girl.
A pained look flickered in the child's eyes, which didn't go unnoticed by Mello. "What's wrong? Are you lost?" He asked quickly.
The girl simply shook her head, looking down at the floor. Silence fell between them, Mello not really knowing what to say to someone who had so little words to offer, felt completely out of place.
"Near!" someone suddenly called, causing both of them to turn. "There you are," the man in a suit sighed relief, walking over to the girl.
"You shouldn't disappear like that, it's not safe. Have you gotten what you needed? I think we've spent too much time here, it's time to go," the man who looked like a foreigner said, ushering the girl along.
"Hey wait," the blonde stopped them abruptly, "Do you know him, kid?" Mello asked skeptically, realizing that the two looked too different to be related.
"I'm a friend," the man answered, and the girl nodded in agreement. Without anything else to say, the blonde had no choice but to drop the matter and let the two walked out of the mall, still feeling worried for the kid somehow.
After walking through every aisle in the tiny supermarket thrice, Mello finally left the mall, his mind which had been occupied thinking about the little girl he met an hour ago now replaced by the same worry he had since the day started.
Riding slowly, much slower than what he was used to, he arrived home ten minutes later, jingling his keys in his hands on the front porch, watching the light coming from the living room window, knowing his mom was probably waiting for him to come home for dinner. He hoped she already had her dinner before him, though it's not very likely, since it was their tradition to eat together. Then, he hoped at least they could have dinner together first before she asked about what happened, knowing that if they fought first, it was highly unlikely that either of them would have dinner tonight. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, thinking how sad it was to waste good food, especially since it was ham roll night.
Mello walked though the front door, taking off his boots so that the mud under their soles won't stain the carpet. Silently, he peeked into the living room, finding his mother sitting on the couch, knitting away. He hesitated for a long while, wondering if he should announced that he was home, or just run up room. And then, he realized he'd just make his mom worry about where he was.
Shaking his head at himself, he finally called out to his mother, "I'm home."
"Mih-," his mother turned to face him, her smile vanishing almost instantly when she saw him, unable to finish her sentence. She got up quickly and walked over to him, holding his face, her eyes filled with worry.
"Mihael, what happened to you? Who did this?" She asked with her deep Russian accent, that never faded despite the years she had spent living in the states.
"It's nothing ma, lets just have dinner," he shrugged it off, turning to face the other way, and started heading for the dining table.
"It's not nothing…oh Mihael," the petite woman breathed, her hand on her chest, trying to contain her tears. "When is this going to stop? You promised Mihael, you said this wasn't going to happen again," her voice broke, tears running down her cheeks.
"Ma please, I'm trying but-"
"But what, Mihael? There are no buts, just stop this already!" she cried, burying her face in her hands.
"It's not my fault! They called you a-" He caught himself before the words slid off his tongue, his mother's light green teary eyes looked up at him questioning.
"What Mihael? What is it?" She became concerned, holding his hands, pleading him to tell her what was really going on, but how could he? How could he say that it was because some idiot called his mother a whore that he threw that punch? Or the fact that it was three against one? What else could he have possibly done but fight back? How could he tell her that without breaking her heart?
"It's nothing ma, believe me," he answered in defeat.
"Then why did you fight?" she shouted back, sobbing loudly.
"Ma please…" he pleaded.
His mother shook her head, hugging her cardigan close to her body. "I just don't know what to do anymore," her voice grew small, covering a hand over her mouth as she continued to cry.
"I'm sorry ma, please…" the blonde begged, her tears tugging at his heart.
"Please, just go to your room, I need some time alone," she said, turning her back to him.
He bit his lip, feeling an ache in his chest, but he knew whatever he said now was going to sound like an excuse to her, so without another word he went upstairs to his room. Closing the door, he slid down to the floor, burying his head in his hands, feeling like an utter disappointment.
So I started writing this for practice and it ended up to be a pretty long chapter...Anyways, I hope you guys like it, please R&R...
