Faith for the Iris | Teen Ink

Faith for the Iris

December 14, 2014
By MysticMusic ELITE, Waterloo, Other
More by this author
MysticMusic ELITE, Waterloo, Other
116 articles 0 photos 118 comments

Favorite Quote:
“You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.” -Mae West
"It had long since come to my attention that people of accomplishment rarely sat back and let things happen to them. They went out and happened to things." - Leonardo Da Vinci


Author's note:

This is dedicated to my best friend, Samantha, for her sweet sixteenth birthday. The main character is based off of her, our very much loved friend, Lisa, and me. I wish Sam a very happy birthday and for her to have many great encounters in the near future!

Alone. That single word summed up my existence, I thought as I rode the bus back to that hellhole called ‘home’.
Ding.
Three more stops before I get off. I’ve never had any friends before; my parents always drove them off and locked me inside. Rumours started and all kids stayed away from me. Their world of parties and lol’s and omg’s were a distant, coloured world that I could never enter. A huge, unbreakable gate known as my parents barred me in a prison I could never escape.
Ding.
Two more stops before I get off. My sketchbook and pencil were my only escape as I leaned against the old tree in the middle of a secret clearing in the forest behind the old, worn-down cabin. It was a world of my own; a temporary escape from the hell that took over most of my life.
Ding.
One more stop before I get off. I recalled my aunt calling me last night; she knew my situation. She offered to let me live with her in Canada, but how could I take advantage of such a kind person and drag her into my hell? She was a hard-working single lawyer and widow taking care of her kid twins, Laurie and Maddie, after her husband passed away from cancer just three weeks ago.
Maybe I should end it all today. Take the knife and put an end to it all. Then I wouldn’t have to suffer anymore. No one would have to deal with me anymore.
Ding.
My stop. I picked up the old bag I used to carry my books and dragged my feet off the bus and back to the dirty place I lived in. I could hear it even before I walked in.
“IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT, YOU STUPID SON OF A BITCH!!! WHAT NUMBSKULL WOULD GET ANOTHER TICKET FOR SPEEDING!? EVEN THE INSURANCE COMPANY GAVE UP ON YOU!!!”
“HOW IS IT MY FAULT!? THE STUPID COP DIDN’T KNOW WHAT THE F HE WAS DOING!! BESIDES, WHY THE HELL ARE YOU STILL FREELOADING IN MY HOUSE!? BITCH, GO OUT AND FIND A JOB ALREADY!!”
I couldn’t take it anymore. I walked right around the house and out to the forest- to the tree out in the clearing. I needed to draw; to forget everything about me and focus on the lines and curves of my surroundings and capture it on paper. Shadows, dents, the glistening of the dew on leaves. I felt myself calm down as I thought about the details I had to present perfectly; a beautiful, colourful world. If only I was born a tree, or a bird, or a caterpillar, waiting to emerge from my chrysalis as a beautiful butterfly.
At last, I arrived at my beloved tree; something that I could truly dare to call mine. I leaned against the knotted trunk and took out my sketchbook; now to pick an object to draw. My eyes settled on a single, blue iris blooming tall in a small clearing among the grasses. The sunlight fell gently upon the noble flower, presenting it with an aura of eloquence.
My fingers lifted the pencil and flew across the page, capturing every detail of the elegant floret. As the last stroke was finished, I looked up at the sky to note the time. The sun was still quite high in the sky; I still had plenty of time to waste away.
A twig snapped, I scrambled up quickly and glanced around. It never occurred to me before that I could be attacked here, not that I cared the first time I came. I circled around the old tree to look for the cause of the disturbance, but found nothing. When I made my way back to the starting point, I dismissed it as a mere squirrel’s misstep.
I sat back down and reached for my sketchbook, but the drawing of the blue iris flower was ripped off!
“What are you doing here?” A voice spoke from above me.
I looked up to find a young boy with forest green eyes that matched his army green jacket and reddish-brown hair the same colour as his pants with a tanned complexion that melded with the colour of the tree laying down on a branch; he held a piece of paper in his hand.
“Hey- give that back! That’s my drawing!” I worked for hours on the drawing before it became perfection!
He laughed dauntingly, “I am the spirit of this tree- this paper was made from one of my cut off branches; I’m only taking back what’s mine.”
“Liar! There’s no such thing as ghosts! Now give the drawing back!” I hated lies and the hateful people who spoke them.
“I’m not lying.” He smiled widely. “I am the spirit of this tree. And this-” He waved the paper tauntingly, “-is mine.”
This isn’t going anywhere. “Fine then, prove you’re this so-called ‘spirit of the tree’ and you get the drawing. But-”
“But?” He raised an eyebrow.
“But if there’s no proof, then you have to buy me a new sketchbook and a new set of pencils. The expensive kind just for drawing.”
“Hmm,” he mused, “alright. And just for the deal, let’s have the deadline tomorrow at sundown for me to prove that I am a tree, which I am, or for you to prove I’m not the spirit of the tree, which ain’t gonna happen.”
“I didn’t know trees could switch to Texan accents.”
“I have roots in Texas.”
“Right….”
“So I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He grinned mischievously.
I frowned. I know I haven’t been around any males- or people- as a friend or even an acquaintance for years, but his behaviour seemed off. I had no choice but to follow them though, if I ever wanted to get that drawing back.
“Fine. See you then.” I grabbed my stuff and turned around to walk back in the direction of my house, but his voice stopped me.
“Oh and take a branch with you when you go to school tomorrow!”
I turned around. “Why?”
“So I can go to school with you tomorrow.”
I was sure the disbelief was showing on my face. “Right…. Why can’t I just take one now?”
“You don’t mind me showing up in your bedroom in the middle of the night?”
Not that I believed any of this nonsense, but I didn’t like taking chances. Or giving him an excuse to sneak into my house.
“Okay, I’ll be sure to do that tomorrow.” I walked out of the clearing, back towards the forest in the direction of my house.

All too soon, I made it back to that house. Fortunately, there were no sounds of a fight to be heard. But that also meant one of them may have died since it wasn’t uncommon to see kitchen knives being brought into their fights. Something I’ve seen since I was a little kid. Not that I would mind if I was killed, it would end everything.
I quietly opened the door and sneaked upstairs to my bedroom in the attic. Time to do some homework- an escape from reality. Or so I hoped.
I was drowning in mud, or quicksand. It was too dark to tell. I was suffocating as I somehow felt myself sinking deeper and deeper. I was pushed in from all sides as I tried to escape from the sinking agony. Just when I thought all hope was lost, I heard a voice speak.
“You have the ability to save yourself.”
What is he talking about? If I could do that I would have done so a long time ago!
Suddenly I felt extremely irritated at the voice, right before I fell off my bed.
Ow… I clutched my aching head, and then looked at the wall clock. It was 6:30 a.m. I might as well get up now and make breakfast. I made my bed before going for a quick shower in the basement bathroom. When I came out, another clock indicated that it was only 6:43 a.m. If I made breakfast now, it’d be cold before those two woke up.
As I walked up the stairs, I noticed that the lights were on in the kitchen. However, when I went into the kitchen, I discovered that the light was from the rising of the sun that could be seen through the windows. I stood there for a while, and closed my eyes against the blinding, yet warm sunlight.
Somehow, the sun reminded me of the boy I met yesterday. Annoyingly glaring and irritating if I looked at it. But I needed that drawing back. How else do I buy the weekly groceries when my parents forget? 95% of the time?
I got dressed and trudged into the chill of the early morning air to the clearing. A problem arose when I arrived: how do I break a branch off the tree?
It wasn’t that I couldn’t break off a branch; it was because the branches were too high and I couldn’t climb a tree.
“Where’s that idiot when you need him?” I muttered.
“I don’t like being called an idiot.”
I was so startled I stumbled over my own feet and fell over backwards.
“Clumsy.” What an irritating guy. I pushed myself back up and noticed he had his hand in a position for a handshake with the grass.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Apparently nothing.” He muttered before straightening up and holding out a stick to me. “A branch for you; I figured you wouldn’t be able to reach with that short stature of yours.”
Irritating and rude guy. “You haven’t changed at all.” I said as I snatched the branch out of his hand.
“What do you mean?” He asked curiously.
“I’ve heard of bad first impressions, but you just leave bad impressions every time.”
“Is that how you speak to your elders?”
“Elder? That’s rich coming from a guy who’s even shorter than I am. Shouldn’t you be in elementary school, kid?” Okay, I held a grudge against the short thing.
He kicked my leg, causing me to fall again and loomed over me. “Listen little girl, I’m a 67 year old tree who has passed many winters. Don’t tell me where I should be when you don’t even know what to do yourself.”
That last line stung. I didn’t know where I should be, but that was my business and my business alone.
I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him close to glare into his eyes. “Let’s just go to school to prove you’re not a tree spirit, so you can give me my drawing back. You have no right to talk about my personal matters.”
I released him and turned around to walk back to the house. Before I walked into the house, I shoved the stick at him.
“Wait here, I need to go get my stuff and be back in an hour. That shouldn’t be a long time for a 67 years old tree to wait, right?”
The shocked expression on him face was so worth it as I walked back inside humming slightly. That should teach him to mess with my art. I took a glance at the clock on the oven and it was already 7:00 a.m. Time to make breakfast.
More specifically, I warmed up the meal I prepared last night before I got ready for bed. I finished in 10 minutes, ate breakfast, brushed my teeth quickly and put my hair up into a ponytail. I grabbed my backpack and left before my parents could notice.
“Sorry I took so long…” I trailed off looking at the sight of him holding a branch with his left hand and gingerly touching the old, log house with his right hand. He had a look of utmost sadness in his eyes as he looked at the rotting wood.
“Spirit?” I really had no other name for him, but he turned his head at the name.
“Yes?” He grinned cockily, but I could still see the underlying sadness in his eyes.
I suddenly remembered the quote, “Eyes are the window to the soul.”
“What?” His eyes went wide. Oops I must have said that out loud!
“Er-nothing. Come on, it’s time for school!”
I grabbed the branch out of his hands and ran towards the bus stop just before it left. I swiped my card and took a seat at the back with a branch in hand. Strangely enough, rather than talking about me in loud voices, everyone just turned to their seating partners and talked to them. It was strangely unnatural, like they were purposely turning a blind eye without taking the chance to make a snide remark.
I took my seat at the back and the tree spirit in army clothing made himself comfortable in the spot beside me.
“What’s different about you?” I suddenly asked. If he could come up with differences between him and other humans, I’d definitely prove him wrong.
“I wonder…” He muttered and looked out the window of the empty seats across from us. “I guess the fundamental difference is that only you can see me.”
“What?”
He kept his eyes locked with mine as he straightened up. “Haven’t you noticed anything strange? This is a school bus, but the driver never asked me for any identification. None of your classmates asked why you had a tree branch in your hand either. It’s my energy that’s keeping all this hidden from their eyes and minds.”
“That’s impossible.”
His eyes turned lazy. “It’s up to you to believe if I’m telling the truth or not. Though you will be treated like a mental patient if you believe otherwise.”
I tapped the shoulder of one of the girls who sat in front of us. It was the first time I initiated contact with someone else in years, excluding this strange boy. She turned around and I recognized the popular girl who used to be my best friend.
“Chelsey, there’s a guy sitting beside me, right?”
She gave me a strange look. “Jean, I think you need to get your eyes checked. There’s no one beside you.”
She turned back around and I slumped down in shock. There’s absolutely no way that this boy was telling the truth. Spirits didn’t exist.
“No way…” This couldn’t be happening.
“But magic doesn’t exist…”
“I never said I had magic. I just said I’m the spirit of the tree and that my energy is keeping that branch hidden from sight. I’m just helping those humans turn a blind eye to the branch like they’ve been doing to the harmful effects of many things they do.” He purposely coughed. “Air pollution.”
Something seemed off in what he said.
“Then why can I see you?”
He looked back to the windows again. “Because you never turn a blind eye to anything for any reason. That and you’re a weird girl who hangs around a tree as you get home from school and stay there until the sun sets. Geez, if I was a human guy, I’d think you fell in love with me at first sight.”
“Keep dreaming.” I scoffed. “There must be another way to tell you’re not a tree spirit.”
He sighed. “You’re denying the inevitable.”
I gave him a look and he reluctantly answered. “Since I am the spirit of a tree, if my tree is dead, I will disappear.”
He looked so serious; I thought he was telling the truth. Then reality came crushing down. That simply wasn't possible.

Throughout the day, no matter how many times I tried to point him out to my classmates, the teachers, and even the principal who passed by, not one of them could see him, though they had no problems leaving a space in the crowd for him.
“I told you, they can’t see me.” He drawled with his head resting on his palm and looking at me out of the corner of his slanted eyes.
Ding.
Three more stops before my stop, and I still couldn’t prove he wasn’t a tree, but he might slip up in a conversation.
“Hey, how do you know that my drawing was made from your tree?”
He perked up. “So you’re admitting that I’m a tree spirit?”
I shot him a glare. “Answer the question.”
His eyes glazed over as he looked out the window. “Rather than knowing it was from my tree, it’s more like an instinct. I just feel that it was once a part of me.”
Seeing him looking wistfully at something only he could see made me feel insignificant. He knew what he was doing and what he was going to do. I yearned for that kind of certainty; nothing was stable in my life. I had to sell my drawings just for the money. It’s not like my parents would buy the groceries or anything that we needed.
Ding.
Two more stops. He glanced over at me as I looked out the window, wishing I could see the same thing as him. If only I didn’t have to go home, if only I could run away. Then, I could live in this moment forever. I wish time would just freeze right now. This bus felt more like home to me than that horrible place ever did.
Ding.
Once this bet is over, he’ll leave and I’ll have no one to talk to again. I don’t want that. If only I could stay a little longer. With that thought, I found myself tightly gripping the tree branch.
Ding.
It was over and it was time to go back once again.
“Thank you.” My voice was barely audible as I stepped off the bus. Then I heard something similar to the sound of lightening in the direction of the clearing.
My hands were shaking from fear of the unknown that was taking place in my sanctuary.
“Hey-” A pair of forest green eyes looked at me with concern. “I don’t think you should go over there.”
There was no way I could stay quiet and act as if everything was normal. “Thank you for the concern, but I can’t ignore this.”
I took off and ran through the forest. Countless branches grazed my arms and face, but I kept pushing. I tripped and fell several times, but I kept going as moisture gathered in my eyes. The shadows danced around me and made patterns on my skin, as if saying everything was still just like before, but it wasn’t.
I saw the cause of the sound at the end of my pursuit. My father was holding an axe in his hand as he chopped the remains of my dear, beloved tree into timber. I looked behind me, and the strange boy with forest green eyes, reddish brown hair and tanned complexion, dressed in army camouflaged clothing, was nowhere to be seen.
This was the last straw. I walked silently back to the house, opened the back door and entered the kitchen. There, I picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number.
This time, I couldn’t hesitate and my voice came out clearer than I thought it would. “Aunt, can I live with you in Canada?”

I walked through the new school halls, with my new books and a new look. Aunt Alice came the day after I called her to pick me up, and I left that place with only my sketchbook and pencil. My parents didn’t say a word as I finally left, not that I expected them to. She immediately took me to a huge mall despite my protests and bought me everything a person could ever need. She was going to buy more, but I managed to convince her not to. Her warm hug afterwards was worth so much more than any bought item ever would, I couldn’t help but cry a little. Even then, she only gave me a napkin with a smile. No screaming, scolding or chiding ever happened to me at her apartment. She was a truly kind person who had touched my heart.
The teacher led me into a new classroom, with new classmates. This was a fresh, new start for me.
“Everyone, this is our new student: Jean Woodsworth. Who would like to show our new student around at the Canadian Academy for the Arts?
The door suddenly opened with a loud bang. “Sorry I’m late! I just finished a photo shoot and-”
His familiar forest green eyes met mine. It was the same reddish brown hair, the same forest green eyes, the same tanned complexion, the same short height, but in different clothing. He laughed dauntingly at me and held his hand out.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Jean. My name is Skipper Donnas, an aspiring actor, but you can call me Spirit.”



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JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This book has 2 comments.


on Dec. 24 2014 at 5:44 pm
MysticMusic ELITE, Waterloo, Other
116 articles 0 photos 118 comments

Favorite Quote:
“You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.” -Mae West
"It had long since come to my attention that people of accomplishment rarely sat back and let things happen to them. They went out and happened to things." - Leonardo Da Vinci

Okay, thank you so much for the insightful feedback! I'll be sure to keep those in mind when writing my next story!

on Dec. 23 2014 at 4:33 pm
Sharkbait SILVER, Grant Park, Illinois
8 articles 1 photo 40 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart."
-Anne Frank

This is a pretty good book. I loved the creativity, how trees have spirits, too. Make sure, though, that you keep one tense. (in the beginning it was present tense but after that it was past tense, a little confusing) The whole 'terrible parent' thing was a little vague. Why didn't they buy groceries? I feel like child services would have come if that was the case. Maybe specify why they were such terrible parents a little more? Mostly it was written how the character was wallowing in self pity instead of bringing the reader to understand the pain she was going through. All in all, this book has a brilliant story behind it, with just a little tweaking here and there could be publish worthy. Good luck and keep writing!