Treetop Secrets

***This post and the post titled "The Before" are two short story pieces I had to write for my Creative Writing class last semester.  I'm posting them on here because I really like how they ended up.  We had to write a third person point of view short story and a first person point of view short story.  Treetop Secrets is my 3rd person POV story, and The Before: Sophie's Story is my 1st person POV story.  They go together, and Treetop Secrets is meant to be read first.***

Treetop Secrets

The tan skinned boy with fierce blue eyes sat quietly alone in the back of the crowded room, closest to the door.  He stared down at the blank piece of notebook paper on the desk in front of him.  A capped pen was being pushed back and forth across the tabletop by his fingertips.  Quiet people were good writers, that’s what he’d always heard people say.  He bit the inside of his cheek, thinking that maybe someone should tell them they have obviously no idea what they’re talking about, and wondering if maybe taking a writing course wouldn’t be of any real use anyway.

He felt the familiar rush of cold air and shivered slightly.  There was one of them around.  It wasn’t the first time, but the first time in over a year.  He clenched his fists tight, digging his nails into his palms and enjoying every second of the pain.  I thought it stopped, he thought angrily.  Watching her legs walking towards him, he refused to look at her face.  She was barefoot, that was the first thing he noticed about her.  She stopped in front of him, stood there waiting for him to say something, anything to acknowledge her presence.

“Caedyn.”  She said nothing but his name after he hadn’t moved or said a single word to her.  Still, the teenager with the too-long, too-messy caramel coloured hair didn’t utter a word to her.  He kept his head down, trying hard to ignore the presence of the slightly transparent woman standing less than a foot in front of him.  “Caedyn, look at me.”  He didn’t.  She gently laid her hand down on top of his, allowing it to go right through and stop at the table top.  He jerked his hand away; her touch was one of ice.  His gaze slowly shifted upwards, stopping below her face.  He knew if he looked into her eyes, she would have him.  He’d have to help her.  “Caedyn.”

“Stop saying my name,” he said.  She took a small step back, surprised that he had spoken to her, that those were the first words he’d chosen to say, and at the force and venom in those four words.  The people closest to him turned to look and see who he was talking to.  He focused on her dress.  White, tattered, dirty.  He picked up the pen, turned it over and over in his hand, and stared down at on a spot on the paper.  Those who’d looked back at him turned away again, shrugging their shoulders.  He was weird, a loner, a nobody lost in a sea of somebodys. 

She bent down low so that her face would be level to his.  He quickly turned his head away to avoid her burning gaze.  Her hands went down through his again and his blood turned to ice.  “Caedyn,” she said, challenging him.  He stood, crumpled up the unused piece of paper, and leaving the pen on the table, left the room, letting the door slam behind him.  Again people turned to look, but again, no one really cared.

He ran deep into the woods on the edge of town.  Though short at only 5 foot 7, he was unnaturally thin and flexible.  Like a squirrel, he scrambled up into the higher branches of a tree.  That’s where he’d always felt the safest, in the treetops, far away from other people.  Who does she think she is?  Barging into my life like that.  It’s been a year since the last one.  Almost.  Why’s another one gotta show up now?

The warm late-fall air turned arctic for a second, and he knew she was somewhere close again.  “Just leave!” he yelled out, scaring a few birds from the branches above.  She plopped down on a branch behind him and said his name again, making him jump and almost fall.  She watched as he steadied himself and turned around.  He still wouldn’t look at her face.

“Careful,” she warned, “you’re no help to anyone if you’re dead.”  She held a smile in her voice, almost teasing him.

“What do you want?”

The smile disappeared from her already familiar voice.  “Not want.  I need your help.”

“Why me?” he asked, looking down at the ground.  He knew that there were others as well who could see them.  “I’m done with this all.”

“You can see me,” she said matter-of-factly.  “So you’re not done helping us.  And I know you’ll help me.  I know you, Caedyn.”

“Stop it, will you?  It’s not your name to say.”  He climbed back down the tree, carefully only because he knew she was watching.  He half expected her to follow him to the small shack he called home, but instead she stayed up in the tree, sadly watching him fade into the darkness until he disappeared completely from her view.  Need, ha, he thought, walking, then running, away from her direction.  All she needs is to leave me the hell alone.

Alone was a word Caedyn knew far too well.  His mother had left, just up and walked out without a backward glance, when he was just 2 years old.  In his father’s eyes, it was purely his fault his mother had left, and Caedyn paid dearly every day for it.  He avoided his abusive father, and therefore his home, as much as he could.  He wouldn’t get close to anyone for fear that they would discover his hellish home life.  When he was fifteen, his father forced him to leave the trailer he’d grown up in.  After the old man had killed himself, Caedyn knew he could never return back home.  He was fifteen, still a helpless child in the law’s eyes, and the authorities would take him if they found him.  He’d heard about foster care, but in his mind, it was never going to be an option.  It was luck that he’d found the abandoned shack hidden in the trees, luck he’d landed a some-what steady job, and luck that he’d lived four years now with no one discovering the truth.

Though the darkness was falling fast and heavy, he didn’t go straight home.  A glance at the sky told him the moon would be bright tonight, bright enough for him to see enough to get home.  He knew these woods anyway; he kept all his secrets in the trees.  “She saw them too,” he said, quietly at first, then again louder.  “She saw them too!”  He didn’t realize he had stopped walking, didn’t realize he was crying until he tasted the salty tears on his lips.  He sank against an old tree, strong and sturdy, and rested his head on his knees.  “Why’d she even have to leave?  She could’ve helped me.  She could’ve... she -” He stopped suddenly, and held his breath to hear better.  Someone was in his woods.  He heard the leaves rustling, heard a twig snap.

“Caedyn...?” he heard a familiar voice call hesitantly.  It was a girl in his writing class.  What’s she doing here?  Sophie, that’s her name.  She was a pretty blonde girl with pale skin and emerald eyes who sat three seats up and two to the right from where he sat, not that it mattered at all.  How did she know where to find me?  The darkness was thick tonight; the clouds had come out to hide the moon.  “Caedyn... please... please...”  Her voice was high, scared; she was lost.

I could pretend I’m not here, he thought.  She shouldn’t be here anyway.  He let his breath out slowly, being careful not to make any noise.  The leaves stopped rustling.  She called out for him again; her voice was shaking.  “Here,” he heard himself say, “I’m right here.”  He stood up and kept talking so she could follow his voice to him.  He saw her silhouette moving towards him and considered, for a second, running.  “Come with me,” he said to her, leading her to his shack.  She was careful not to touch his skin, instead letting her hand brush over his shirt every so often so she wouldn’t lose him.

When they got to his home, he walked in, not bothering to hold the door for her.  She followed, knowing full well she wasn’t wanted there.  “You see them,” she accused in a whisper.  He was surprised; whatever he had been expecting, that wasn’t it.  He stood there in a stunned silence as she looked around the two rooms.  “Pretty,” she said, holding up a necklace that had been his mother’s.  “You see them,” she said again, setting it down and turning to face him.

Finding his voice, he sat down on the lumpy mattress and asked, “Do you?”

She shook her head.  “I feel them.  I can feel who they are, who they were.  I felt her today before you left.  Who was she?”

He shrugged and mumbled something that sounded like “iunno.”

“She knew you.  She had a connection to you, strong.  I felt it.  I’m not crazy, right?  She was there, right?”  He didn’t answer her.  “Please tell me I’m right.  No one, no one, believes me when it happens.”

Their entire conversation so far had been in whispered voices; the trees and the animals that lurked in the shadows were listening.  His voice sounded too loud when he nodded and told her she was right.  They talked in whispers late into the night until sleep came in and took hold of them.  At the first sign of the sky turning its pink-orange morning color, Sophie awakened.  Satisfied with the night’s conversation, she slowly and silently pushed Caedyn’s arm off of her and slipped out the door.  She shivered; the early morning air was fresh and cold, but that wasn’t why.  The woman from the previous day was there.  “I know you’re here,” she said out loud, forgetting that Caedyn was sleeping just a few feet away.  “Please, can I just see you?  I need to... to know.”  More translucent than she should have been, the woman appeared to her.  “He has your eyes,” Sophie told her.  Nodding, a sad, pained look on her face, the woman disappeared from her view.  Unsure of her feelings, unsure of what to do next, Sophie stole one last look at the closed door, then turned and ran.

When he was sure Sophie was gone, Caedyn opened his eyes.  She’d left him, just like the rest of the world.  He shook his head, knowing he was forever going to be nothing more than an outcast.  He doubted if she knew he too had awakened at the first sign of sunrise.  He found himself oddly disappointed that she too had pulled out of his life.  Well why did you think she’d be any different?  She’s just like the rest of everyone else, he said to himself like a chastising parent would to a small child who’d made a bad decision.  The air got colder and he rolled his eyes.  “What?” he asked aloud.

“Can we get down to business now?  Will you listen to me?”  She was sitting next to him.  When he didn’t look towards her or voice an answer, she sighed heavily.  “I don’t understand.  Why won’t you just look at me?”

He looked in her general direction, but still not at her.  “Because I know how it works.  You look in the eyes and you’re trapped.  You have to help.”

“That’s not everyone.  It’s you, and others too, because you have the kind of soul willing to help lost ones.  Your friend, she looked in my eyes.  She didn’t get locked on to help.”  It was obvious from the look on his face that he was about to tell her off for seemingly putting Sophie down, so she continued before he could get a word in.  “She’s good, please don’t misunderstand.  But your soul is more connected to the world, more open to others than hers is.”  He nodded.  “So you’ll help then?”  After a short hesitation, he nodded again.  “Good.  I need you to find my body.  I can tell you where it is, but after that it’s up to you what to do.”

“And you won’t leave me?” he asked, sounding so much younger than his nineteen years.

This time, it was her turn to hesitate briefly.  “Not if I can help it.”  They both knew she’d soon be gone though.  She was already fading; spirits only had a short time left with the living souls after death before leaving permanently.

“Ok,” he agreed.  She began to tell her story, what had happened to her, and where her human form was.

*          *          *

The yellow “CRIME SCENE - DO NOT PASS” tape surrounded the trees.  Caedyn was tense and nervous as cop after cop asked him questions.  He stuck to the story he had rehearsed with her; he told them he’d been wandering the woods, pondering life.  He told them he saw some freshly overturned earth and that he’d gone to look.  He said he’d ran back home and called the police after brushing away some dirt and seeing the long, dark hair.

He’d been asked, then told, to look away when the body was removed from the shallow grave.  He wanted to look away, but couldn’t force his eyes to.  Though bruised and covered in dirt, she was still incredibly beautiful.  Her long hair was tangled, with dirt and leaves entwined in it.  It was a dark brown colour, not quite black.  She had a tan skin-tone not unlike his own, “Indian skin,” his father had called it in anger after she’d left them.  She was wearing the same white dress her spirit had appeared to him in.  It was torn in places, probably from dashing through the underbrush in an attempt to escape her attacker.  She wore no shoes; it was easier to be silent in the woods that way.  She probably had the same light run he did, barely stepping hard enough to leave a footprint.  Finally, he allowed his eyes to look into hers.  Though the life was gone from them, it was easy to see his were the same.

He jumped slightly when a hand touched his shoulder.  “Are you ok?” he heard Sophie’s voice ask.

He turned to embrace her in a hug.  “She was... she was my mother.  I don’t know.”  The cops hadn’t paid him any attention for several minutes.  “I have to go.”  She nodded, both understanding and not understanding at the same time.  She watched as he walked, then started running, away from the craziness.  Like a fox, she darted around the trees, following him closely, but not close enough for him to know it.  She wondered where he was running to, wondered if even he knew.

*          *          *

Caedyn pushed open the broken door of the old trailer he’d spent the first fifteen years of his life in.  The lock never had worked, but that had never mattered to his parents.  They were a trusting kind of people, always looking hard for the best in people.  It had been four years, so he was surprised to see that nothing inside the trailer had changed.  The dust was thick; it had been ages since anyone had stepped foot inside.  He walked over to the bookshelf - he’d always hated how it blocked one of the windows - and pulled an old photo album off the bottom shelf of it.  The first picture he opened up to was one of just his parents from a time before he was born.  They’d been so happy together before he came along and ruined whatever it was they’d had together.  A few pages later, he found another picture of his parents; his mother was holding him, looking tired and afraid in this one.  He ran a finger over it and flashed back to the day she had left them.

“You don’t understand!” she was yelling at his father.  “Ever since he was conceived,” she pointed at the little boy playing with blocks on the floor in front of the television, “I’ve seen things!  I keep seeing what... what isn’t there.”

The father grabbed her arm and pulled her back towards him.  “We’ll get you help then.  We’ll make it stop!”  He was yelling back at her.  All their two-year-old son had ever known in his young life was the fighting.  He loved the people he saw that no one else could see because they seemed to care more about him and less about the fighting.  “Imaginary friends” was what the adults in his life called them.

“I’ve been waiting for it to stop for almost three years now.  It won’t stop!  It’s him.  I swear to God it’s because of him.  It only happens near him.  I don’t know, maybe he calls them or something, but they come because of him!  They won’t leave, so I have to!  I can’t take it!”  She ran towards the baby and picked him up.  “Caedyn, Caedyn, Caedyn, my sweet little boy,” she cooed.  “Don’t remember me.  I love you.  Always know I love you, baby, but you’re better off forgetting me.”  She kissed his chubby little face before putting him down and walking briskly out the door.

For a moment, his father stood in surprised silence.  She’d threatened to leave several times before, but never before had she actually walked out the door.  She was a prideful person; she would never return even if she wanted to.  She was too proud to go back on her word.  Caedyn felt the air in the room change as his father rounded on him.  He started to cry, and put his arms up, hoping his father would pick him up and comfort him.  Instead, the man’s face twisted with rage.  “Damn you!” he yelled at the toddler, raising his hand in a threatening way.

With a gasp, Caedyn returned to the present.  Sophie was next to him again.  She looked at him, her green eyes wide with new knowledge and surprise.  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, “I never knew.”

“No one did.  The older I got, the worse it got.  I stopped coming home one day; I think he’d gotten so used to causing my pain that he didn’t know what to do when I wasn’t there.  He -” he stopped.

“It’s ok,” she said, putting her arms around him in an awkward sort of hug.

He shook his head, gulped back the tears threatening to fall.  “He killed himself,” he finished.  He felt a gust of wind blow through the shattered windows.  He knew it wasn’t his mother, just a normal gust of fall air, but still he looked to Sophie for confirmation.

She shook her head.  “She’s gone now.”

Caedyn nodded.  “Thank you,” he said both to his mother, hoping that wherever she was she could hear him, and to the girl on the floor next to him.  Sophie looked deep into his eyes, and in an instant, saw everything in is past, present, and future.  She saw the life, the fear, the innocence, the love he hid.  She leaned over to him and brushed her soft lips over his.  She moved her hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat.  Feeling different, feeling a lightness and connection he’d never before felt, a slow smile crept across his face.  “I’m free now.”