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Growing Up

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Growing Up


All of us clamored up the dead tree, it had large wide branches, large enough we could all sit. The sun fell down up us, beautiful and golden. The scent of freshly cut grass filled the air. I looked to the right, a field of bright, tall wheat that went as far as one could see. It waved in the gentle breeze, calm and peaceful.

We sat silent for a while, breathing in the air, sitting in the comfort of a group. My feet dangled bare against the waxy, smooth bark of the tree, it had been climbed to the point of being worn down. A beloved tree. There was a building in front of us, a red shed. A young man walked out of the doorway. He did not look at all mad but distraught. “What are you doing you idiots? Idiots! Do you not know what to do?”

We all looked at each other and back to the young man who was already making us rather angry with his speech. “Huh…?” Most of us mumbled, refusing to give up our spots. The young man sighed, straightened his blue polo top and then shoved his hands into his pockets and began to pace. “No, no, no, that tree right there’s going to blow up, and if you want to live I suggest you get off of it.” He looked at his watch, “Five minutes.”

I jumped and ran toward the wheat field and the gravel road as far as I could.

Yet, all the tree did was crumble into black char as if it had burnt down. I walked toward the undisturbed young man in the blue polo top. Before I was near he turned to me and said, like a teacher, “Go into the building and find a seat.” His voice was indifferent, almost cold.

The building was full of light and a large computer screen was directly facing a light colored wooden table. The others, four of them, entered the room and sat in the same chairs I did. The young man paced again at the head of the room before the screen. “Hello,” He said in a strong, calm voice like he was there to take care of us. The bored tone was no longer there. I knew I had seen him before and heard his voice, but I did not know from where…

Pictures appeared on the screen. The first was of a black horse, in a beige halter. The picture began to move and the horse bucked incessantly and screamed until it was free of the binds, then ran down the close cobblestone street. The picture changed to a white mare with a small foal in a tiny corral. It was the same medieval street as before, and it too moved. The mare and foal both were calm, possibly content with the quiet scenery until the black stallion ran down the street to the mare. It bucked again; its eyes were full of fear and anger, until he horse ran off again. Once again the pictures changed to a garden or an old back yard surrounded by a rock fence. The house was an old city cottage with flowers surrounding the fence.

The picture moved, the horse rushed, jumping over the sharp fence and standing at the screen. The screen turned off. I saw no pint to this display of frightening scenes.

There was a flat computer, or something in front of me. Each of us had a painting n it. I turned to see the familiar young man. He stood directly behind me; a scary yet warm smile painting is face. I swallowed the lump that had been stuck in my throat. I tried to speak but couldn’t. The young man just smiled, “Sorry, girl, in a few years you can be heard.” Then he shrugged, “Maybe, not everybody can be.”

Once again, I attempted to speak, but only a burn formed in my throat and I turned to see the boy. “I’m worried about that picture, girl, that one.” The picture was on the flat screen. He pointed to the black and white picture of a small girl, huddled together. He pressed a round button and the picture became gigantic. There was a large amount of people in the picture, “Don’t be so scared. Just leave it alone.”

There was a crippled man, skinny with his own flesh falling of the bone. My breath went away. Another was of an orange cat; with golden eyes was hiding in the dark brush. Standing above the orange cat was an elk with large branching antlers. It was calling, intelligent eyes looked away and… there was a red arrow in his neck. Blood trickled to its leg. Beside the elk was a man, in a blue coat and long black hair, about to tend the injured animal. In a dark tree above the blue coated man was a beautiful woman in a flowing white dress, pointing her toe at the man. She wore a crown of diamonds on her head. On the other side of the tree was a different woman, with tanned skin in a brown deer skin outfit, a feather hanging from her chestnut hair. She was equally as beautiful. She held a well crafted bow and arrow pointed to the elk. Above the woman was an eagle. Its talons were pointed at the huntswoman in the dark tree. Below the tree was a bright yellow butterfly near the trunk of the tree where light just barely hit it. In the dark beside the tree a shriveled up goblin-like figure with skin dotted in warts and ugly silver hair draping its face as it reached toward the butterfly. Behind him in the dark beside the tree was a wolf, only barely outline with incredibly bright eyes. The wolf was alone. Its eye could spear right through me. On the ground was a woman with blond hair and lay comfortable on a flat slap of rock with flowers surrounding it. She wore a mint green dress and gold or brass rings surrounding her feet. Looking up at her was a lioness about to pounce.

They were all being hunted. Every single one.

The young man smiled and patted my shoulder, “Good luck out there, girl, good luck.” And he walked away.




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