My Bleak Summer

Today I got word that would shatter my hopes and dreams. They canceled my summer camp. How could they do that? I was watching the news and something grizzly had happened that would probably shut down the camp for good. I was curious, but remembered that saying “Curiosity killed the cat.” I was never the sort to run towards the sound of gunfire. I came to the conclusion that it was for the best the camp was closed. It wasn't the greatest of places. The food was no better than a festering bowl of dog snot. Lake Negar was full of leaches. The curfew sucked, but the counselors were nice and there were always plenty of games and activities to keep us busy. Other then the group of camp bullies, who are now gone, it was pleasant. Speaking of leaches or bullies, heh, there's my family exhibit A. They were the number one reason I kept making up excuses just to leave and go back to camp Negar. I could care less if I wasn't going perhaps Adam or Sarah could find the time to hang out whenever. I just know I need to get away whenever I get the chance. There is one place they don't know of the backwoods of Kentucky are full of spots in which I've made my home. My mother always favors my sister, that peg-legged little witch, and there of course was my father if you could call him that, who would always take my twerp of a brother's side instead of hearing me out. I might as well not even exist except for when they need me. Do this. Do that. I'm nothing but a doormat that collects dust and fallen food from their scraps. The dishes wouldn't get done if it weren't for me. The organizing wouldn't get done if it weren't for me! That's why I did what I did! My sister and brother were made not to do anything while I became their little slave child, like an ugly mongrel dog! That's why I made my choice! Just one second allow me to compose myself. Back to the story at hand.

I had decided the day that I found out they were shutting it all down to go find a hole somewhere and just wait out all my misery. They can't find me! If they do I'm a goner. I could go to my special place in those backwoods I spoke of earlier. Adam and Sarah could bring me rations of some sort. I have money saved up so I can pay them back. I grabbed my bike and rode it out. The breeze blowing past my hair was the only comfort I could get. The only escape I could find to get away from those imbeciles. As I was riding I pulled up near an empty lot. I could see there was a fairly large tree in the center. The closer I got to the dying oak I noticed a huge notch...No, a door. A wood grain door. This tree seemed very old and out of place. The leaves, although almost separated and some dying still retained their color a brilliant bright green. They blew in the wind almost as if waving me away. A warning perhaps. I crept a little closer, the limbs were not waving me away it was more of a come hither motion. It was almost like I was being called to this place. I couldn't hold back. Lingering nearer I found windows. Who built this monstrosity Kebbler elves? I thought sarcastically I looked it over very closely. Etched into the side of the wood were names. I assumed that children must have written them because of poor penmanship. Very erratic, sporadic, but one thing was for certain an etched message on the door done up in cursive was what truly brought me pause. It read: Come to me. This is your special place. A home away from home. Through this door, your journey descends, but choose wisely. For once you come in you must finish what you begin.

I leapt off my bike and threw it aside. Slowly I walked toward the brass knob. I gripped the doorknob not before I felt a chill as if a hand was gripping my shoulder and pulling me toward my destiny. The calling had a chokehold on my very soul. I took a deep breath, turned the knob, and opened the creaking wood grain door. The door slammed shut behind me and echoed outward. For a millisecond it was dark. So dark I couldn't see my hands in front of my face. Suddenly, a brilliant bright light illuminated my surroundings. Cozy furniture was laid out. Artwork littered the walls. It was nothing I had experienced back home. For once in my life, I was experiencing a feeling of welcome. “A treehouse within a tree how creative.” I thought to myself. It seemed that I had found a place to relax and not worry about a thing. I could stay here forever. Yeah, this was how I felt until I found out who owned this supposed treehouse. I should have known better. There has never been one place in my life where I could relax. Why would this place be any better?! In my mind I thought “Perhaps I should stay here. Maybe leave the next morning before anyone noticed I had gone.” Yeah right like that would ever happen. Remember I'm pretty much invisible. Aside from the fact that when they need me.

Two tall bookcases set into the wall held what seemed like hundreds of books. I had nothing else better to do and decided to grab a leather-bound copy of Moby Dick by Herman Melville. Some of my favorite literature ever written was in the tales of a salty sailor dead set on vengeance against a great killer whale. I snickered in spite of myself. Vengeance. I indulged myself and sat down to read. Apparently, I had lost track of time. I looked up from my book and heard the clock on the wall chime 12: 09 am. I was about to leave when before my very eyes a tall staircase appeared. I dropped the book to the floor. I gasped. I still felt that calling like a whisper or like warm arms wrapped around me. Very comforting. It was almost as if someone here knew I didn't want to go home. The tree perhaps?

I climbed the stairs. There was a bedroom. “This can't be possible.” I thought. I was sure that the tree was smaller on the outside. Apparently logic doesn't exist here. I was almost awestruck, however, I was tired the one bed did seem comforting. I walked over, laid down, placing my head on the cold pillow. As my eyes shut I still felt that slight chill, that calling.

****

“What was that? Birds?” I blinked the sleep out of my eyes. The light shown from a nearby window. It was morning. “Heh, nobody even realizes I'm not home.” I thought. No search parties. No panic in the streets. Just a nobody in their own little world. Their own little hiding place. I could care less if they were searching for me. I felt a grown. I needed to eat something. I left the bedroom. I was about to approach the stairs and leave this place when I smelled something delicious. I turned the corner and followed my nose. Before me was a kitchen laid out with all the fixin's. Fit for a royal feast. “Is someone reading my mind?” I thought. Why would food appear like this? A kitchen? It just made no sense.

I sighed. Hunger pains hit me hard. I thought it would be alright to stay and eat. It was more food then I had ever seen. I felt humbled and more than grateful. Although I was happy being here. Something felt off. That calling. That pull. That chill. Everything seemed out of place. With all of my thoughts swimming, I didn't even notice that door had vanished. I was trapped. I panicked “Oh how I wish camp wasn't canceled. Oh, how I wish I never came to this place. I should have kept riding. I should have gone to those Kentucky backwoods to one of my special places.” At this point of panic that's when I found out who owned the tree. I ran back towards the bedroom. Perhaps I could get to the window. I was always a good climber. Perhaps I could break the glass. As I approached I spotted the silhouette of a woman standing near the bedside. Her long wavy hair was as black as coal and the dress she wore was dark as night. In a smoker's voice, raspy and irritating, she croaked “You won't be leaving this place any time soon.” I opened my mouth to let out a scream, but it was as if my voice had left me too. Like everyone else. I still felt that calling, that clawing, that chill, and it wasn't coming from the tree. It was coming from her. I couldn't help myself. I didn't want to leave, but still, I wanted to break free. There was a little conflict within me and yet I knew I needed to stay.

The window was gone. The bed was gone. I was in darkness again. Me and her. I had no idea what I was going to do. No idea who she was. I had to think of something. In my mind, I knew I had to stay, but then a thought occurred. The book. The bedroom. The kitchen. Those were all things I needed. Those were all things I wanted. This place listened to me. And if that were the case, if I truly were stuck here, I could make it my own paradise. There would be nothing this mysterious lady could do about it. This wasn't going to be my last summer. This was my dream, my fantasy. My family couldn't take that away from me and certainly not this wicked wretch. I looked around. Nothing. It was maddening how dark it was. Nothing to claw at. Nothing to pound, but I knew if I concentrated hard enough on what I wanted things could change. In the blink of an eye, she vanished. Again I tried getting my voice back but to no avail. I just could not speak.

****

I kept blinking. Gasping for breath. I had to wake from this nightmare. The tree was not listening to me like it had before. The plan had not worked. How could I make my paradise if my thoughts couldn't create my fantasy? It was almost as if my mind was drawing a blank. Like I was losing myself and yet the calling was leading me deeper and deeper. Still, I fought. Blinking madly trying to claw at anything that could be there, but there was nothing. I felt myself falling and when I thought that I could fall no more my body struck the all too familiar softness of a bed. I was awake in the bedroom once more. The calling was still there. No, it was an echo like a ricocheting bullet bouncing off from me. I chuckled slightly. Bullet. I needed to find this familiar call. As I neared towards the stairs I could still feel the chilling grip pulling deeper. On the wall was a mirror near the two bookcases. That's where the calling was coming from. Perhaps the mirror had answers I thought. I was no longer walking. It felt more like floating. As soon as I got to the mirror and I stared into the dark reflection. It wasn't me. It was the mysterious woman. It was then that I fully grasped the situation. I had unraveled. I shouldn't have allowed what they said at camp Negar get to me. I shouldn't have snuck away the snub from the counselor's lockbox. I shouldn't have murdered my family. The names of those children who bullied me carved out over the tree like a giant wooden mausoleum. Adam, Sarah, Joshua, and Cassandra. My personal kill count. I am alone here in my special place. My own personal hell. The treehouse that I built in the backwoods of Kentucky where I buried them all.