The Forests' Secrets
I break through the tree line and enter the embrace of the forest. The long grass and shrubs crack like glass under my feet and I twist to avoid the branches from grabbing me. I can see the sky through the young saplings; a clear blue sky with smooth thin clouds floating along its canvas. As the bush gets more dense with life, I have to rip my way through the tangles to make my escape. A faint trail appears before me, enticing me to follow. The sun manages to filter through the trees, providing the source of life for smaller plants that reach greedily for its energy. The shade - an intense darkness which engulfs all life. Brown and yellow willow leaves relinquish the desperate grasp they held on their mother limbs. The duff is soggy with the rain that fell last night, creating puddles of water which threaten to wash out the trail. I freeze. The sudden movement of a bunny has startled me just as I have startled it. The air is fresh with the dense aroma of composted leaves. A blue jay lands upon a dead sapling, making it shake with its weight. He looks at me with black eyes, curious wells. He flies closer to me, landing on another sapling along the trail. The creek contains many rocks at this point, creating waterfalls as the water rushes over them, yearning to get back on course. I stop to watch it, entranced by the current the rocks create as the water flows over and around them - to the outer edges of the creek. I try to follow my path as it fades along the banks of the creek. I get as close as I dare to the edge. There, I witness the creek attempting to claim a tree’s life; roots clinging hopelessly to the earth’s edge. The water is much deeper here. The surface, only broken by the wind, ripples like a fabric in the breeze. A fabric with a painted image of a clear and beautiful forest; colours as brilliant and stunning as those they mirror. I turn to return home, to leave the heart of the forest which appears to have revealed the secrets of its passing inhabitants with the approaching Autumn, still to see the fresh tracks of a mallard duck left in the mud.
Going Free
I am Strong. I am Proud. I am Brave and Daring. I love my body and my self and I feel no shame! I am aware of my rights as a women and of how far we have come. I believe men and woman are equals and can share each and every task, responsibility and behaviour. I don’t believe in restrictions and limiting factors in life and in society. I believe men and women should have the same rights, and we do. But, there is this one right that no woman exercises to avoid shame, stares, whispers and rejection. My boy friend can do this without a problem. He can walk around doing yard work, and chores and go swimming with no second thought, but I can’t bring myself to even try. I’m scared to think about it. I feel shy. I grew up in tank tops, t-shirts, bikinis and full pieces, and shirts that went no lower then my armpits. Always we covered our bodies, hiding them from public view. Men don’t give a cats’ meow about it and I can’t even walk out my front door that way - without fear of being pointed at, whispered about, broadcasted on TV and shunned by my elders. I would embarrass my family and be rejected by my friends and nearly everyone else to boot! I’ve seen paintings of women from a thousand years ago who’ve posed in such a way. They stood there, emotional and proud, showing themselves off with beauty. Such famous paintings are shown all over the world still to this day! Something inside tells me it’s wrong, even though I know that it is just the social goggles that fog our eyes, that make me feel this way. If this is so, why was such a right passed? As I stand before my front door, grasping the handle, I cannot bring myself to show the world I am as proud as I am - topless. I cannot bring myself to reject the norms and fulfill my pride, show off my bravery, my independence. I release the handle and pull my shirt over my head, covering my chest once more. Maybe some other day I will try.
Kyles' Story
It was time. That time of year that always happened. Yes, you know what time I mean. Thanksgiving.
My family: mom, my little sister and I, always spent Thanksgiving at my Uncles’ place in Halliburton. It was tradition you could say. I didn’t mind so much, so long as I wasn’t stuck in a conversation with anyone for too long. I didn’t know what it was that made me feel that way, its just that others would start to look at me weird like I was sprouting a beard or something and the worst part was that they would always point it out.
"Are you a 'girl'?" they’d ask me.
I’d stand there like a dead tree rooted with horror at that simple question. I could say no, or yea right, or slap them. But it didn’t work that way. I couldn’t do anything for some unknown reason. So I just walked away and hid in my room till the dinner was ready and slip away when it was done before anyone could snare me into doing the dishes.
I didn’t know where they got the idea from. I wore guy clothes because I was a guy. My hair wasn’t long and I wasn’t like I had bumps on my chest. I was scrawny. I wasn’t the least bit girly looking in my own opinion. I was the lankiest kid in my gym class
Impressum
Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG
Texte: Kayla West
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 20.12.2012
ISBN: 978-3-7309-0310-0
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Widmung:
I dedicate this first book of short stories to my mom who supports me through all that I endeavour to do.