Entwined Lives

Characters and setting inspired by “Anne with an E,” available on Netflix. 

Cole

The breeze swayed over the cliff at the coast. Seagulls squawked overhead, and the salty scent of the ocean was carried over to me, stinging my eyes. The clay was drying too quickly, but I didn’t mind, for this scenery was all I was here for. I don’t fit in at school. When instructed to sit boy-girl, I am unsure of my place. I think I find my enclosure in my sculptures- I convey my emotions, my thoughts, my story.

I found this hut, once, in the middle of the woods. It had an earthy feel- as if Mother Nature constructed it herself. The walls were made of old wood and logs. Inside, someone had made a makeshift table and chairs. They had brought in cushions. Dried herbs and flowers hung from the ceiling. Some notebooks were lined up against the wall, well worn and used. Something about the place made me feel at home. I picked one of the notebooks up and flipped to a page that seemed to be part of a story.

“The girl walked to a tree, hidden in the midst of branches and leaves. She inhaled its leafy aroma. It brought her back to the orphanage. She would sneak outside, find her tree, and stay there the entire night.”

The author of this story was brilliant. Her way with words was something I had never seen before. 

“Take a right, Mother Nature conveyed to me. You will find a tree there. A tree that is old and wise, and one that will listen to all your troubles. It will give you sorrow. Joy. Gain. Loss. But never pity, as pity can only pity itself.”

It seemed to be a girl’s handwriting. It was full of emotion- certain sentences were curlier, while some just seemed sad. Her writing expressed a true love for stories. 

Anne

I built a hut a couple of weeks ago in the woods. I am sure that I am the only one to know of its presence. It’s my place. I can only begin to express its extravagance. The tilt of it is just right- somewhere in between “on the verge of falling” and “excitement.” Like me. I like to write here- ever since I was young, I’ve been hooked onto the way Jane Eyre strings her sentences together. It’s my forever dream to be like her. I wasn’t allowed to read at the orphanage, but ever since I’ve moved to Green Gables, I’ve had more access to her treasures and shut myself in my room daily to read a book or two. It’s such a nice way to be transported into another world. It gives much scope for the imagination. 

My latest story is about this tree that I found a couple of days ago. It seemed so old, so wise, and as if it could listen to anything and everything. I sat underneath it and was transported back to my time at the orphanage when I would sit under this old oak tree and go to sleep there, instead of the bunks because the older girls would bully me. I call this new tree mine, and it will be mine until we part our ways. 

I wrote my story about this tree, and about how a girl whose parents died, finds peace when she’s with the tree. It’s such a tragic story. I wish that I had a friend or two that could read it for me, and laugh and cry along with me. I wonder what it feels like to have friends. 

At least I have my hut and my tree. I think Mother Nature creates them for us to find peace. She hopes that she is loved by all for her wise tales and treasures. 

Cole

I finished reading the story, and I really want to find a tree for myself. The girl who wrote the story seemed to know what she was talking about. Maybe this tree will listen to me. 

I follow the directions- take a right, and you will find me. I come to the oldest tree that I have ever seen, and find a red-haired girl sitting beneath it. She has striking blue eyes, full of emotion and wonder. Right away, I knew she was the girl who had written the story. I could tell that her imagination was strong, that it was strong enough to see a tree as a mentor. She stood up and smiled. 

“Did you find this tree too, by the ways of Mother Nature?” the girl asked with a gasp. “Are you one of her children, beheld on finding identity on this planet of hers?”

“Um, actually, I read this brilliant story about a tree. The funniest thing, I found it in a hut that encapsulated nature. I hoped to find a tree, like the girl in the story, and it led me here.” At this point, the bright-eyed girl hugged me. All I know is that I belong in this world now, with this girl, with this tree. 

Anne

I hugged him. I see him in school, of course, but I’ve never talked to him. He’s an artist. His drawings reminded me of some faraway land, distant and yet so close. 

“I’m Anne. With an E,” I laugh and smile at the boy. He is much taller than me, with blond hair and an eye for beauty. “Cole, right?”

“Yeah,” Cole says with a smile. 

We sit down together, under the tree. We talk. We laugh. We cry. Before we know it, night has fallen. I rest my head on Cole’s shoulder, his head on mine, and we fall fast asleep. 

Cole

That day was probably the best day of my life. Anne, as I had learned earlier, was full of emotion. She had a splendid way of seeing the world before her. The girl in the story was her. 

If I hadn’t met Anne that day, I probably would’ve felt like I didn't belong. Anne probably felt like she wouldn’t have belonged too. But now, we have each other, and that’s all that matters.