Lost Soul

Strange Boys (2)

       The snow crunches under my feet as I make my way down the porch and onto the pathway. Before I disappear into the trees, I look back at my new place of residence. My newly acquired home isn't small by any means and even has an upstairs I strolled through only once to make sure I didn't have any extra roommates. The cabin is simple with a warm vibe despite its run-down appearance. It's also incredibly far from any stores, towns, or civilizations in general-unless you have a different form of transportation other than walking. The structure was deeply hidden in the woods and couldn't be located unless specifically sought out. It was exactly what I didn't know I needed.

      Turning away from my abode, I stuff my stiff hands into the pockets of my long winter coat in attempts to keep them unfrosted. The trees arch around the narrow-cobbled pathway that leads to the main gravel clearing. The cradle-like structure of the trees is oddly comforting. It's almost as if they, too, wish to hide me from the world. I continue my walk down the curvy path that makes seeing the house, even in winter, impossible. With trees hovering overhead and the harsh wind that threatens to blow me over, I hunch my shoulders and tighten my coat around me. The effort goes unrewarded as some holes make themselves known thanks to a certain feline. Despite the chill, I hike on.

       I finally reach the gravel clearing that's blanketed by snow. The clearing was originally supposed to be for multiple vehicles, I use it to gaze up at the stars. The lack of light makes the view at night impeccable. Lilah and I frequently venture down here at night together to enjoy the twinkling lights. There is something magical about listening to thousands of crickets' chirp while the fireflies sing silent songs with light. Their 'singing' always gets rudely interrupted by Lilah, as he seems to think they'd make a mean midnight snack.

       I continue my walk through the clearing and out into the wide opening that leads to the main road. No cars have ever been seen taking this long road since there are at least four other faster ways to get to Moons Academy, or anywhere for that matter. The first two weeks I parked my cold bum behind a particularly large oak tree in the shadows and observed the desolate road. I am not exaggerating when I say not a single human made vehicle besides the mail man set tires on there. It was boring but rewarding.

       My fingers retrieve my phone and double check the time while simultaneously doing some quick math. Moons Academy starts at 8:00 a.m. It takes one hour to get there on foot at my normal walking pace thanks to the trial run I did just last week. If it weren't for my situation and love for nature, I would have stayed at one of the dorms in the academy. My full ride scholarship included everything from a place to stay, to lunch, to books, and obviously my courses. This prestigious high school was made for the wealthy. The price for a simple salad at this place makes me balk but for all I know, that could be relatively normal.

       My mother made me get a job when I turned eleven as I was never allowed to attend public school after elementary. She didn't like the 'uselessly intrusive questions' they asked her when I would show up to class looking half-starved and disheveled. I worked under the table as an almost janitor for a run-down bar that had more blood stains than booze. The owner, a sleezy looking man in his late forties, was more than willing to accommodate a malnourished minor working after close--as long as I did my duties with my head down and mouth shut. Whenever I was forced to venture out before the bar closed, many of the remaining men would latch their beady eyes on my brittle form. They would get a kick out of purposely dropping their silverware or mugs on the sticky tike so I would have to clean up the mess. Not even a year later, I had to take up a second and even third job as my oh-so-caring mother demanded since they spend all my well-earned money on drugs and alcohol.

       Even young and naïve, I knew that I had to get away sooner or later. There was simply no way I could have survived their mistreatment. Saving a few dollars here and there was almost impossible for my young mind to handle. There was always that small sliver of hope I held onto that maybe this time, the money was enough for mother and father's love, maybe after this beating mother and father would hold me in their arms and comfort me, maybe this time it will finally be enough to garner some kind of forgiveness or love. Hope made me weak in those moments of determination.