The first chapter is a little boring but it sets the background of the situation I guess. At first you will probably wonder why did I chose the title I did but that will be unveiled later on in the chapters (maybe if it maks it that far). I am very bad with spelling and grammer so if you see anything that doesn't seem right please tell me!!! Also if you think a sentence would sound better a different way I am open for suggestions. Please don't be too harsh I was 13 when I wrote this...( current age 14).
Chapter One:
A Moment's Perfect Hour
Hills roll off in every direction away from society and all the city's accommodations. To the east a forest begins full of life absorbing the warm rays of sun. South claims icy creeks filled with smooth skipping stones. Streams that branch off to a farther pond filled with Lilly pads and honey suckle flowers. Undisturbed by human life, wild flowers can wait for honeybees and hummingbirds to continue the natural circle of life. Clouds full and fluffy cling to the sky weightlessly moving slowly with the Earth they protect. In the middle of this green heaven sits a cottage small and bare. The home is kept neat and clean with only a single bedroom. This is my home.
I don't remember coming here or ever living here but somehow I know this is where I belong. I want to be here. A small garden grows along the edge of the off-white front wall right to the wooden door. Strawberries, radishes, tomatoes, and the many other fruits and vegetables sprout out of the fresh soil. Four trees canopy the garden baring green apples, and red ones, peaches, and huge oranges. All but the red apple tree are still young and yet to grow taller than the house. Vines grow up the sides of the home, some offering green plump grapes. I'm not wearing jeans and a T-shirt like I thought I would usually wear but, a long light tan skirt and white blouse covered by a simple white apron. Even stranger, I don't have any shoes on. Although I am unsure of why I am here, I feel a strange happiness inside me letting my memories of my old life slowly fade to nothing. Every minute of my childhood is slowly being replaced with memories of me being here instead. What remains of the city are tossed into a bottomless abyss. I'm not sure what is real or false but I don't care. This is where I am meant to be. Alone. I can feel it down to my toes and into the Earth's soil.
Still a little cautious, I walk on the stone pathway to the front door placing one bare foot at a time. Maybe if I were to see the inside I would determine if I actually lived here or not. The windows were open and the doors unlocked. Here we go. I placed my hand on the silver doorknob and pushed almost effortlessly. Peeking my head inside to the left, I prepared to pull myself back into a flush of memories, good or bad. There's no doubt now. This is where I live.
Gentle streams of light flowed in and onto a smooth glass vase filled with exactly seven white daisies. They sat on a mini chocolate brown table covered partly by a white silk blanket at a diamond angle. I remember picking those flowers this morning and cleaning the vase that cradles them now. Wooden flooring stretched throughout the home looking as if it had been a moment ago washed. Two chairs, the same brown of the table neatly pushed in their place, one across from the other. They didn't have any fancy designs only a simple pattern and something engraved up the legs. Three windows large enough to fit through had matching shutters all of a light brown. The smallest was the one located just above the sink; this was the only one with curtains. And the other windows, both of exact shape and size on either side of the door. Every bit of the kitchen looked familiar and each counter, chair, wall, and cabinet had its own memory tied to it. I walked forward brushing my fingertips across the table just to ensure it was really there. Looking around, I turned my attention to the right portion of the room. It was exactly as I expected. Beautiful.
This was the front room or better known as the living room. A miniature white loveseat comforted two pillows with fringed edges. Next to it was a cheery wood bedside table. On top of that was a small solar powered fountain. I remember my mom giving it to me when I was eight years old, the year she died. Several picture hung along the wall not in any particular order, even a fireplace mix well in this quiet atmosphere. I walked closer to one of the photos and examined its contents. It was a black and white picture of the vase of flowers on the table. I took quick glances at the rest. All were in black and white. Another was a photo of a huge willow tree sitting next to a shallow creek and the photo next to that one was a patch of tulips no doubt somewhere close to here. I open the drawer that was connected to the bedside table and in it was an old fashion camera. This sent a rush of excitement down my whole body, everything was perfect. I am exactly where I have always dreamt I could be. Is it really possible I live here? Quickly shutting the drawer I turned around and spotted the entrance to the hallway perfectly symmetrical to the front door. No longer restrained by fear, I practically flew down the hallway, also filled with pictures of animals, flowers, or grassy plains.
The first door that crossed my path did not tempt me to open it, for I already knew what was inside. The bathroom. The next door was merely filled with towels and sheets and freshly washed rags waiting to be used. Then came the last door. This one led to my room. If all of this was real then inside of there should be a bed already made. Two bedside tables, looking similar to the one in the front room, one having a empty picture frame and the other having another glass vase of flowers but instead of just white it should have white and several shades of orange. Across from that should be a cherry wood dresser no higher than my waist with a small wooden jewelry box filled with a few homemade trinkets. Even the box itself would be hand made. Against the next free wall should be a small bookcase consisting of the same color as the dresser full of novels of every type. Most written by unknown authors. The only thing that should be actually on the wall is a large window in the company of my long white see-through curtain. To top it off there should be, a closet filled with my dresses and other things that are hung up in order to protect from wrinkling. I opened the door and of course everything was where it should be. I noticed a diminutive hook. I removed my apron, seeing as to I had already completed the daily cleanup that morning, and sat on the windowsill looking out at the beauty of Earth.
"Home…" I mouthed the word quietly. Somehow that single word felt wrong, out of place. It made me sad. It made me… feel empty. I closed my eyes and forced the feelings away. All I wanted to do was think about happiness. Then like someone heard my plead all my sorrow was lifted and replaced with joy. I forgot what even upset me to begin with.
The excitement bunched up in me could no long be contained. I pushed myself off the windowsill and began to run towards the forest. The horrid tiredness that fills you lungs did not come, the feeling of weariness did not creep at the heels of my feet, air flowed right through me as I weightlessly glided through the series of trees. Why did I not grow tried? I love to run and the wind rushing through my hair so I didn't care as to why I didn't feel weak. That was a good thing for me. I felt so free, so ALIVE. Asking for anything else would be an impossibility. I leaped over a creek and was about to push off into another sprint when I happened upon a boy.
He was asleep under the vary willow tree that I had taken a picture of. Did he live near by? Impossible. There aren't any landmarks for miles in all directions. I knelt down next to him and watched his steady breathing. He had hair the color of the sunlight that was long enough to just barely reach his eyelids. If he were standing he would beat me in height by at least seven inches maybe more. For once in my life, temptation bit my fingers and urged me to touch the face this godly figure. Never before had I felt such urge in my body. I stretched my hand out allowing the foreign need to be fulfilled but hesitated before any contact was made. He moved a bit and his steady breathing pattern interrupted. His eyes began to slowly open. Quickly, I was on my feet and fled behind the tree. What if he was not friendly? I carelessly didn't think of all the possibilities. Literally a second after I had made it to my protection he sat up swift and alert. No longer dazed he looked around cautiously. He knew I had been sitting next to him.
**Thank you taking the time to read please comment**