Hi guys. School has been keeping me busy and I COMPLETELY forgot about my Fanfiction! This is disgraceful! No updates in TWO MONTHS! *Crowd gasps**Dodges poorly aimed rotten fruits thrown by booing crowd*. So, to make it up to you, my goal is to write for you, not one, but TWO chapters of Holly Clark for you today! So now, without further ado, the Worst Updater of Fanfiction History, presents to you, Chapter Five!
HOLLY STAYED HIDDEN IN THE BUSHES. Watching. Waiting.
She wanted to run all the way back to her Tree House, but her stomach really hurt. It hurt too much to sit up, even. Every time she moved too much, she thought Owie as a fresh wave of pain hit her.
She managed to haul herself up and run to his tent. She knew there were good things, useful things, in there. Pots and pans and a sleeping bag were all grabbed, as well as matches and a camp lantern. As she rummaged through the contents of the tent, the couple got up and ran away.
It was too much strain on her injury. Holly barely made it into the bushes before she felt light-headed, the world started spinning like it did after she played on the spinny-thing at the playground too long, and little spots appeared in her vision.
Holly fell down, hit her head on a rock, and everything went dark.
...
When Holly woke up again, there were new unfamiliar, people at Plant Man's tent. They were walking around with little axes, cutting down everything he had grown.
Why are they doing that? Holly wondered. Why are they killing his plants?
She sniffed the air. There was someone, a man, very close to her. Slowly, she inched away from the direction from which his scent was coming, being careful not to let the leaves rustle and alert him of her presence.
Luckily, he was too busy looking at the tree. Holly didn't know why he would be so interested in a tree. She just saw trees as a place to pee, or maybe a thing to climb. She didn't like peeing on trees, even though she'd spent nine years in the woods. It was incredible that, after all this time, she still remembered what it was like to use a toilet.
He took out two pincer things-tweezers, Holly remembered, her mother had used them to removed a splinter from her foot, once-and took something off the tree.
Holly got up. She tottered and almost fell down. She held the pots and pans in one hand, because they were all connected by a little string, and the lantern in the other. The sleeping bag was on her back, and the matches were safely tucked away in her jacket pocket.
Holly ran, thinking that the man was too busy picking things off the tree. But apparently what he was doing was less important than pursuing her, because that is what he did- he chased her. Holly turned around and growled at him. Keep out! It told him. Get out and stay out! It must have worked, because he stopped dead in his tracks. She turned around and ran away.
...
Holly made it back to her Tree House. She clumsily made her way up the ladder. She dumped her new possessions on the ground and collapsed onto her bed. She curled up into a little ball, moaning.
She wished, like in all times of despair, that her mother and father were here, beside her, ready to comfort her. Or, better yet, take her home to her Barbies and her stuffed animals and her dollhouse and her tea parties with Raggedy Anne and Mr. Bear every Sunday.
And a toilet. Holly would really love a toilet instead of a tree.