Leaves

She's just a baby and her name is Leaves (the story). She's only a few days old so she's far from finished, but tell me what you think so far? :)

Leaves

 

 

Red and yellow leaves cling to my flannel shirt as I pull myself up from the tree I’m sitting against. I brush them off and walk out of the forest toward home, shivering slightly. It’s only mid-September; it shouldn’t be cold enough for jackets and boots. Since it’s getting dark, I quicken my pace. My dad worries too much when I’m not home by sunset, but I guess that’s normal. I’ve tried to tell him that I’m sixteen years old and perfectly capable, but he insists that it’s too dangerous at night for me to be out alone. He’s probably right, but it bothers me sometimes. Does he really think I won’t be able to defend myself if I need to? Maybe I should take karate or tae kwon do and ease his mind.

I reach my front door, knock hard, and let myself in when I feel the knob turn easily. I wince as the door groans. It always seems to want to give me away.  He comes around the corner , his black hair disheveled and his mouth grim.

                “Lyddie, I thought you were going to be back right after school.” His voice is calm, but his face holds all of the tension lines that, put together, mean he is very upset about something. I know it has to be more than just me getting home late.

                “I’m sorry, I got out in the woods and I lost track of time. I’ll be more careful,” I hesitate for a moment then add firmly, “I promise.”

                “I’ll count on it,” he replies, but he doesn’t smile and the lines between his eyebrows deepen.

                “Dad, what is it?” I ask softly.

                “What do you mean?” he says, and then he does smile, a weak one, but it’s better than nothing.

                “Just don’t keep…secrets?” My voice goes up at the end of my sentence and it becomes a question, although I didn’t intend it that way.

                “No secrets,” he answers, “Now let’s get some dinner.”

It's still quiet as I make a salad and he works on spaghetti. There are so many things I should say to make a conversation happen, but the air is heavy with unspoken thoughts, and I’m not sure I want to know them. I set the table and don't realize I've sighed loud enough for him to hear until he looks up, startled out of his thoughts.

                "Lyddie?"

               "Hmm?"

He looks at me for a long moment, searching in my green eyes, and then looks away as if he's given up. I feel my heart curl into the shell of my ribs, and I wonder how long it's been since it’s fit comfortably in there. Hoping somehow we can reach outside of our own minds long enough to talk, I open my mouth to say something, anything, but I don't have the words. It's been so long and I don't know what to say to my own father. I shake my head, smile, and bury myself deep inside the memories of when things were better.

 

 

 

Mom and Dad watched me, bundled up to my chin and rolling around in the snow, with their arms around each other.

“Watch me, watch me!” I squealed as I turned  a half cartwheel on the powdered snow and fell, laughing. Then they ran to join me and we were all running and throwing snowballs. I tackled Dad and he caught me, lifting me up on his shoulders. I saw so much better from up there, all the way to the trees, bare and frosted with snow. Even at seven, I knew what beautiful was.

“Wow,” I breathed, and we all stood there for a moment in the cold air, silent before we headed back to the warm house for hot chocolate.

 

I jump when I feel Dad’s hand on my shoulder.

“Sorry,” I mutter, and realize that my hand is curled around the air as if it is a ball. I quickly relax my fingers. “I’m going to start on some homework , if you don’t need any more help.”  He waves  me away.

“I’ll let you know when it’s ready,”

I pick up my backpack where I dropped it earlier and go up the stairs two at a time. I don’t stop until I reach my room. I kick off my beat-up green Converses and sink into my beanbag to get some math done. 

 

 

 

Author's Note

more is coming! but tell me anything you want to about this scrap :)

Reviews

[D.L. Simmons]

i don't know what's wrong with the font, but it keeps changing sizes :S
anyone know why it does that?

[samantha]

i like it hun its put together very well

[van lokesh]

flows well
the action she does like she is really throwing the snowball
heheh
amusing
and yeah y
math of all the subjects heheheh.
will wait for the continuity of this
hurry up

[Hope]

You are a writing genius!!!!! Flow is purely eloquent, tone is very light but reflective and the flashback (at least that's what it seems to be) is really good, it seems to already aid the story!!! I always love your writings!!!!!!!!!!