Taylor was alone. That was how it always was, and that was how it always would be. She sat in an old oak tree sketching the face of someone she had seen only in her dreams. She had lived in a cottage in the northern part of the forest with her mother and younger brother, Chris. She helped her mother tend to Chris when he had gotten sick in the winter. A few weeks later he died, having developed pneumonia. Taylor wasn’t sad. She and her brother never liked each other, and her relationship with her mother wasn’t better. A month later her mother died leaving Taylor to fend for herself.
The next morning, she gathered her things and left the cottage. She didn’t plan on coming back anytime soon so she remembered to pack some food before leaving with all her belongings in her only backpack. After walking a few miles she climbed up into an oak tree and pulled out her sketchbook. Lately she had perfecting one of her more recent sketches. It was a boy that constantly appeared in her dreams. It always seemed like he was trying to tell her something important, but she always woke up before he got the chance.
In fact, she had never even heard his voice before. So she settled for just having him there. In that dream, the forest was always dark and she was wandering around aimlessly. The longer she wandered, the more frantic she became. She never knew if she was searching for something, or running from something. The only thing Taylor could do was wait for the relief that came with his presence.
She would turn around and there he would be. They never spoke but she was more comfortable having him there. Sitting in the tree, she secretly wished that he was real. She looked around, as if looking for him. “Who am I kidding?” she muttered “He’s not even real” She looked down at her paper and went back to work. She began sketching parts of the forest that she had never seen before. The boy’s face still fresh in her mind.
Taylor began adding him to her pictures. Leaning against a tree, sitting on a rock, swimming in the lake. She closed her eyes and pictured herself with him. This mysterious boy from her imagination. In her fantasy they had silent conversations. She still couldn’t find a voice to go with her perfect creation. When Taylor woke a few hours later the forest was dark, and cold. “I fell asleep.” She whispered. When her eyes adjusted to the darkness she climbed to a higher branch. It was dangerous to be anywhere near the forest floor after nightfall.
