Under The Maple Tree

A story of a girls war for her own body, and why she continued to fight.

 If peace was water my throat would be parched

Isabella lay back against the great maple that rested to the left of her step-fathers estate, her dark brown hair flowing in the wind. Her tanned eyelids shut like old wooden window shutters. Her long legs extended in front her, her body absorbing the feeling of the cool summer breeze. She had just turned eighteen, her body had caught up to her age and she felt like a real woman. Her pen and paper rested lightly on her knees a sketching pencil held lightly between her fingers. She wanted to feel this world, capture it in her art, capture the beauty and sereneness, the peace and love of the world, she wanted to feel peace and love, and she wanted everything her life right now didn't have, and in this moment she felt she could have it.

The wind passed.

She opened her eyelids took up her weapon and went to war with the darkness in her heart. With every line a clash so fierce rang up her arm, she wasn't going to let this darkness defeat her, she would fight to her last breath. Lines conjoining, shapes forming, a piece of art started to flow from her fingertips. She felt her victory in a matter of seconds; she would win this fight, so close almost there…

“What are you doing?” Came the cold curiosity from the man from her nightmares

Her battle was lost. With those simple words the darkness took over. She froze, a centimeter away from connecting her master piece, she just needed a second, but she didn't have that, and that is why she had lost. Her work had failed, she had failed, he was here to make her crawl back into her shell.

“Nothing” She whispered in an almost inconceivable volume. The strength she had felt fighting the mini war inside her mini-self evaporated with every second.

“Come in the house” Came his stern, authoritative command. Isabel did as she was told; she took up her creative tools and started to head back to the house. The soft grass seemed to melt as she journeyed to the door to the hell she called home. Before she entered she felt the wind pick up so she turned to the maple and tore her offense in two and through it to the wind. She couldn't have any weakness in the war she was about to face, the war for her own existence. The war ended the year she went off to art school; from the day she left she tried to repair her life with her art, while not sinking into drugs or alcohol, but depression soon became her best friend. He never laid a hand on her after that moment, she never told anyone, and she lived the rest of her life trying to pretend those 2 years didn't exist.

She decided to never get to attach to boys they only brought pain and destruction. But her heart couldn't help it when she fell for a man so caring and loving that when the next thing she knew it they got married and started a family. Her Step Father never said a word. But one time only once did she ever tell the man she loved. And he made sure she never had to see him ever again. But her nightmare would never be over.

But the war was won.

She looks back on that time in her life and realized the reason she kept fighting was to prove she was more then what he made her.

∞

Isabella’s real father died when she was 12 years old. She loved her father he was a good man, he was killed by a drunk driver, head on collision neither of them survived. Her Mother Judith met Thomas two years after the accident he was rich, handsome and was a good friend to Isabel. She would never admit it to anyone, but when her father died she felt a piece of herself go as well. When Thomas came into their lives she felt little by little that piece returning he talked to her, and listened and that’s all she really wanted from someone, to listen.

He took them to fancy places, made them feel special and in time he had gained their trust, their love. And up until five months after the wedding, when Isabel was 16 he had been as good a man as her father. But then his true colours came out.

She came home from school it was an early winter’s day and snow had been falling softly since dawn, she had had her last field hockey training for the semester and was tired from all the exercise, she had decided to take a hot bath before dinner, but as soon as she walked through the door she knew something was terribly wrong in this house.

“Mum” She whispered to the empty cold space that just a few minutes ago were so warm and inviting. The lights were out even though Thomas’s car was parked in the driveway. The rooms felt cold and dead, like no one had lived in them for years. She crept through the coffin like space until she reached the one room with light, Thomas’s study, his work place when he wasn't at work. The fireplace was lit and there Thomas was just steering into the abyss. The room felt warm, which was a sharp contrast to the cold running through her veins. The light from the fire was absorbed by rows of leather bound books that lined the two walls leading from the door to the oak desk that sat heavily on the other side of the room. Before the fire place were two singular, leather couches that looked old and worn. A bottle of whisky sat atop the mantel piece resting half empty next to Thomas’s right hand. The room was terrifying, yet she hadn't figured out yet why.

“Come in Isi” A nickname that was usually comforting was now petrifying to the ears.

How did he know she was there? What was he doing? Is this safe? Questions rattled around inside her brain but nothing came out, she moved into the room, still perplexed as to what was going on, the alarms in her head were going haywire but she didn't understand. This was a man she trusted, her surrogate Father, how could she be frightened of him.

“Take a seat Isi” He said in his calm, mellow tone voice. She sat and from even this short of a distance she could smell the stench of alcohol. Everything inside her told her to flee, but her body would not listen.

“It’s been two years now, since I decided to devote my time and effort into the well being to you and your mother and I feel as though I've given up a lot for you two. Isn't that right Isi? I have given up a lot for you, right?”

The silence that followed was palpable, she knew he wanted a response, but she was too terrified to give one. In some miraculous or stupid effort she ghostly whispered the word “yes” before her voice was gone.

“Well it stands to reason, Isi that for everything I've done for you, I should get something in return, don’t you think?” His presence filled the entire room and Isabella felt warm tears gliding down her cheek. Thomas either didn't see them in the almost darkness or he didn't care; he was a Lion who had his gazelle in his vision.

“Where’s my Mum?” She asked in a quivering voice.

He smiled took the bottle off the mantel piece and sloshed it down his throat greedily. “She has gone away to see her sister who has become very ill.” H went to his desk and picked up a letter. “She told me to give you this when you got home; she was in such a rush to leave.” Thomas waved the letter out in front of himself hoping his prey would take the bait. Isabella, still in shock for the complete change in her life stood up and stumbled towards him, struggling with herself to even take the first step. Later she would look back on this moment and decide her body had already realized what was about to happen before her stupid brain ever did. She reached out for the envelope and as she did the darkness reached out for her. He caught her arm in a grip so tense she thought her arm was going to break, she started a squeal in her throat but it died instantly as he pulled her in and embrace her lips with his own.

He swung her around and shoved her onto the desk, and there right there on that desk, Isabella’s war for her body began.

She lost the first fight.

The End

 

 

   

Author's Note

What do you think? I started to write about a maple tree and it evolved into this. But isn't that what writing's all about? :)

Reviews

[DoormanDan]

It was quite an interesting read! I thought was going to be something light at first; but i quickly realized how wrong I was. Your opening line is perfect. It felt a little rushed near the end though(that's just my opinion). All in all, its a great story! :)

[Justin Xavier Smith]

I think with a rewrite you've got yourself a really good story here. The thing about first drafts is that they always have those added bits of information and exposition that you're only writing so you can keep the story straight in your head but that you don't actually need to explain for the story to be good. So when you're telling us "and then her father, a good man, died in a car accident" I'm just thinking "I bet there's a better, more interesting way to present this information without it sounding like I'm reading a textbook.

BUT the story is very good, and I'd love to see a more polished version of it. So if you put one up, send me an RR.

[Andrew Liddy]

Yeah thank you very much. I'm writing something new at the moment so I'm not sure when I'll get back to this but this will be what comes next.

[Kayja Symphious]

Wow. I felt my heard drop the first time the step-father spoke. This is a subject that many would have avoided, ( me being one of them) but you dealt with it in stride.

Good write!

[Cindy Marietta]

This was a great story! I would definitely read more. You used fantastic imagery and details that really brought the story to life! You had some great phrases in there as well. This is a relatable poem which i enjoy, regardless of how sad or traumatic it is because it is very real. Great job!!
P.S. you might want to go through and proof read just for some minor spelling/grammar.

[Andrew Liddy]

right hahaha Gramma and spelling are my enemy's. :)

[Meat of Dog]

Good imagery! I also like stories about art. I’m into meta fiction, artist characters, and the like. When the guy came and started asking her what she was doing I got a little worried from the tone of it, wondering who he was to her and why she was listening to him at all. You know, I used to get annoyed by the old ‘evil step parent’ cliché, then realized I am that! I mean, my step dad is great by my step mothers have all been totally wretched so maybe it’s not a cliché at all. On that note, the rest is true too. My mother wasn’t around much in my childhood, so my step moms were super nice and I felt very complete and close to them. Then BAM they go crazy. Sorry for the ramble… I find this story quite relatable.

I got a bad feeling from the moment she walked into her step father’s study. I could kind of see where it was going and was like ‘no! Run away!’ But, I also understand her mentality. People are trained to trust and or obey adults and parental figures. They don’t realize the independence and choice they actually have mentally and legally. It was a very depressing, but realistic ending. I felt really bad for her. It reminds you what kind of evil there is in this world. I got very enthralled, thanks for sharing.


Suggestions:

~ “The wind past” Passed. Also there’s a comma at the end of this sentence instead of a period.
~ “to attach to boy’s” Attached.Boys.
~ “was more then what” Than.
~ “The room’s felt cold” Rooms.
~ “effort into the well being” Wellbeing.

Nitpicks:

~ “If peace was water, my throat would be parched” Comma not needed here.

[GMAngel]

Woah. That was intense. What really happened to her mom or the guy she fell in love with? They just disappeared. This was good, sad, but good.