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flipflop_divaThis week we had to write two entries. This is my first one.
There is a path that leads from the back of our house through the woods that stretch beyond our yard as far as the eye can see. It’s a small trail, no more than a foot wide, weaving around trees and beside rocks and overgrown bushes. It’s barely visible on the warmest summer day when the sky is clear, nary a cloud in sight, and it’s practically non-existent on the glorious autumn days when leaves drop from the trees or on the coldest winter days when everything turns a bleak, solid white. But I always know it is there, just out of sight, leading someplace I can’t imagine.
That trail has fascinated me for as long as I can remember. I’ve tried so many times to step on it, to explore it, to run down it. But always I am stopped by my mother, by her soft voice, her hand running through my hair.
“You don’t need to go out there,” she says, “when there is so much here.”
And I always look back, at the sparkling blue of the pool, at the green grass and the sandbox, at the toys scattered everywhere, and I forget about the trail and where it may lead.
My sister is older than me. She’s beautiful — thick black hair, black eyes that draw you in like unending pools — but she’s mean. She has never liked me. Never wanted to play with me. Never wanted to sleep beside me in my bed. Scratches me when I try to sleep in her bed.
So one morning when she beckons me over to her, as she stands beside the entrance to the trail, I waste no time bounding her way. Maybe today my sister will take me on the path I’ve longed to travel.
Instead, she says, “You know you were adopted, right?” and my whole world crashes down around me. Because that can’t be true.
“I’m so glad you’re my baby,” my mother always says.
“Actually, not even adopted,” my sister says. She’s not looking at me. Aloof as always as she ruins my life. “Kidnapped, really. Mother found you down this path when you were a baby. Just picked you up and brought you here. Never even tried to find where you belonged.”
I stare at my sister, trying to comprehend what she is saying. None of it makes sense.
My sister shrugs, a full body shake. “Maybe that’s why you always want to walk down this path.”
And then she walks away, my sister, like she didn’t just upend my life. I stare after her as she slips back inside our house. I stare at the backdoor, hoping against hope that it will open and my mother will come out, call for me, and then she will hug me and stroke me and call me her baby and tell me she loves me and that my sister is just messing with me.
But no one comes out, and the call of the path is strong. The call of my past screaming out for me.
And so I tear my eyes away from my home — or at least the place I always thought was my home — and I touch the tips of my toes to the trail. But still no door opens and no voice calls to stop me, and I take another step. And then another. And I am on the trail, this path through the woods, and then I am running, away from my home, back to where my sister said I came from, searching for answers to a question I hadn’t known before that I needed to ask.
--
I am in the woods for days. I lose the trail after a few hours, its little path lost in trees and pokey bushes and thorns that get stuck in my hair. My feet ache, but my heart hurts more. Nothing looks familiar, nothing brings back the memories I was hoping to find. I begin to wonder if my sister was just being cruel, just trying to get rid of me, so she could have my bed and our mom to herself.
I dig a hole in the dirt and lie down to sleep. I snack on some grass to try and dimmish the cavernous ache in my belly.
I want to go home. I want my mom. I want to know the truth.
And so I keep going. Day after day I push myself. I am tired, hungry, defeated. On my low moments, I wonder if I should just lie down and not get up again.
This trail isn’t leading me to my past; it’s just leading me to heartbreak.
--
I am barely holding on when I hear something in the distance. My ears perk up. Am I imagining things or is that really a voice?
I begin to run. I don’t know how I manage, but somehow my feet are moving, one in front of the other, and I am crashing through bushes and dried up streams and moving over rocks and dead flowers, and I can barely see straight from my exhaustion and my heart feels like it’s going to claw its way out of my chest, but I don’t quit, I can’t quit. And so I run and run and run, desperate and scared, and then I see them. What looks like a father and a son, and I am heading straight for them, and I know, just know, that they are my salvation.
--
My mother picks me up. She hugs me tight and loads me into the car and even lets me sit in the front. I hear her apologize to the father and his son. “I am so sorry,” she says over and over. “Thank you so much for finding him.”
She starts the car, but just as she reaches down to put it in drive, she stops, her eyes catching on something. I follow her gaze, see a building across the way. A group of dogs are playing in the big grassy yard.
Something tickles my mind.
My mom speaks. “That’s the place where I first saw you, Domino, do you remember that? You were just a puppy. But I knew you were the one for me as soon as I saw you.”
And then it hits me.
I was lying in my cage and she bent down. My mother. Beautiful, like an angel. Ran her soft fingers through my hair, smiled at me.
“What if I adopt you?” she asked, and I nuzzled her in reply.
My mom puts the car into drive.
“I don’t know how the back gate got open,” she says as she maneuvers on to the road to home. “But I need to get a better lock. Thank goodness that man found you. You’d been gone for almost an hour!”
I look out the window, see my sister in my mind’s eye, her smug grin. She’s probably at home, cleaning her whiskers, thinking she’s now an only child.
But I don’t say anything to my mom. My mom will figure out the truth someday. For now, I’m just happy to be going home.
I’d started down that trail to get answers to the past, but instead I got something even better. A car ride with my mom, just me and her and the wind blowing my ears back as far as they can go.
Fiction.
This was written for the new season of![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
therealljidol, Wheel of Chaos! If you liked my entry, please consider voting for me or any of the other amazing contestants. You can find all the entries here. Look for the voting post on Monday night!
There is a path that leads from the back of our house through the woods that stretch beyond our yard as far as the eye can see. It’s a small trail, no more than a foot wide, weaving around trees and beside rocks and overgrown bushes. It’s barely visible on the warmest summer day when the sky is clear, nary a cloud in sight, and it’s practically non-existent on the glorious autumn days when leaves drop from the trees or on the coldest winter days when everything turns a bleak, solid white. But I always know it is there, just out of sight, leading someplace I can’t imagine.
That trail has fascinated me for as long as I can remember. I’ve tried so many times to step on it, to explore it, to run down it. But always I am stopped by my mother, by her soft voice, her hand running through my hair.
“You don’t need to go out there,” she says, “when there is so much here.”
And I always look back, at the sparkling blue of the pool, at the green grass and the sandbox, at the toys scattered everywhere, and I forget about the trail and where it may lead.
My sister is older than me. She’s beautiful — thick black hair, black eyes that draw you in like unending pools — but she’s mean. She has never liked me. Never wanted to play with me. Never wanted to sleep beside me in my bed. Scratches me when I try to sleep in her bed.
So one morning when she beckons me over to her, as she stands beside the entrance to the trail, I waste no time bounding her way. Maybe today my sister will take me on the path I’ve longed to travel.
Instead, she says, “You know you were adopted, right?” and my whole world crashes down around me. Because that can’t be true.
“I’m so glad you’re my baby,” my mother always says.
“Actually, not even adopted,” my sister says. She’s not looking at me. Aloof as always as she ruins my life. “Kidnapped, really. Mother found you down this path when you were a baby. Just picked you up and brought you here. Never even tried to find where you belonged.”
I stare at my sister, trying to comprehend what she is saying. None of it makes sense.
My sister shrugs, a full body shake. “Maybe that’s why you always want to walk down this path.”
And then she walks away, my sister, like she didn’t just upend my life. I stare after her as she slips back inside our house. I stare at the backdoor, hoping against hope that it will open and my mother will come out, call for me, and then she will hug me and stroke me and call me her baby and tell me she loves me and that my sister is just messing with me.
But no one comes out, and the call of the path is strong. The call of my past screaming out for me.
And so I tear my eyes away from my home — or at least the place I always thought was my home — and I touch the tips of my toes to the trail. But still no door opens and no voice calls to stop me, and I take another step. And then another. And I am on the trail, this path through the woods, and then I am running, away from my home, back to where my sister said I came from, searching for answers to a question I hadn’t known before that I needed to ask.
--
I am in the woods for days. I lose the trail after a few hours, its little path lost in trees and pokey bushes and thorns that get stuck in my hair. My feet ache, but my heart hurts more. Nothing looks familiar, nothing brings back the memories I was hoping to find. I begin to wonder if my sister was just being cruel, just trying to get rid of me, so she could have my bed and our mom to herself.
I dig a hole in the dirt and lie down to sleep. I snack on some grass to try and dimmish the cavernous ache in my belly.
I want to go home. I want my mom. I want to know the truth.
And so I keep going. Day after day I push myself. I am tired, hungry, defeated. On my low moments, I wonder if I should just lie down and not get up again.
This trail isn’t leading me to my past; it’s just leading me to heartbreak.
--
I am barely holding on when I hear something in the distance. My ears perk up. Am I imagining things or is that really a voice?
I begin to run. I don’t know how I manage, but somehow my feet are moving, one in front of the other, and I am crashing through bushes and dried up streams and moving over rocks and dead flowers, and I can barely see straight from my exhaustion and my heart feels like it’s going to claw its way out of my chest, but I don’t quit, I can’t quit. And so I run and run and run, desperate and scared, and then I see them. What looks like a father and a son, and I am heading straight for them, and I know, just know, that they are my salvation.
--
My mother picks me up. She hugs me tight and loads me into the car and even lets me sit in the front. I hear her apologize to the father and his son. “I am so sorry,” she says over and over. “Thank you so much for finding him.”
She starts the car, but just as she reaches down to put it in drive, she stops, her eyes catching on something. I follow her gaze, see a building across the way. A group of dogs are playing in the big grassy yard.
Something tickles my mind.
My mom speaks. “That’s the place where I first saw you, Domino, do you remember that? You were just a puppy. But I knew you were the one for me as soon as I saw you.”
And then it hits me.
I was lying in my cage and she bent down. My mother. Beautiful, like an angel. Ran her soft fingers through my hair, smiled at me.
“What if I adopt you?” she asked, and I nuzzled her in reply.
My mom puts the car into drive.
“I don’t know how the back gate got open,” she says as she maneuvers on to the road to home. “But I need to get a better lock. Thank goodness that man found you. You’d been gone for almost an hour!”
I look out the window, see my sister in my mind’s eye, her smug grin. She’s probably at home, cleaning her whiskers, thinking she’s now an only child.
But I don’t say anything to my mom. My mom will figure out the truth someday. For now, I’m just happy to be going home.
I’d started down that trail to get answers to the past, but instead I got something even better. A car ride with my mom, just me and her and the wind blowing my ears back as far as they can go.
Fiction.
This was written for the new season of
therealljidol, Wheel of Chaos! If you liked my entry, please consider voting for me or any of the other amazing contestants. You can find all the entries here. Look for the voting post on Monday night!
no subject
Date: 2025-12-02 11:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-12-03 05:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-12-03 08:44 pm (UTC)She’s not looking at me. Aloof as always as she ruins my life.
Perfect description, in any context.
The ending to this was comforting, after what I feared might happen.
no subject
Date: 2025-12-04 10:48 pm (UTC)