The sun shone down through the heavy foliage of the trees and came to rest on a glittering pool of blue surrounded by forest green. It was a quiet, isolated place.
The was a tall tree standing next to the water, a proud rich dark brown column with dark, leafy ivy twined thickly around it. It exuded and old, sacred presence, quiet and reverent. All the trees that surrounded the glade seemed to bend almost imperceptibly towards it, the rustling in their leaves a conversation of the world.
A bikini-clad girl was gracefully perched on one of the lumpy roots that protruded from the soil. She had light green eyes and straight light gold-brown hair and a slim build. A slight breeze blew past her, ruffling her hair. It seemed to whisper her name. ‘Illya’.
Then the wind came again, but stronger. ‘Come…’
Illya smiled slightly, shaking her head. Rising from her position, she went and dipped a toe in the water, then withdrew it with a yelp. It was icy-cold and immediately removed all circulation.
Rubbing her foot, Illya frowned at the water. So much for swimming.
Ever since Mum had left when she was six, Illya’s life had been terrible. Some people’s parents died, and the kids were upset and torn. But when a parent chose to leave, when they just walked out the door, leaving you crumpled on the floor clutching a table leg and sobbing aloud, it was one of the worst feelings anyone could have. She left of her own free will. She didn’t care anymore.
Before, they had lived in a bungalow with a huge mulberry tree out front and honeysuckle spilling over the garden bed and walls. Every week in mulberry season there had been a big pie with ice-cream on the table, waiting for tiny little Illya to dig into.
But then, somehow, it changed.
It had started off as quiet little arguments, small disagreements on this and that. But then gradually it had escalated into full-scale yelling, with complete disregard of what they were doing to their child’s life. The fights would stop around the time when Illya went to bed, and the start again at near 11 o’ clock or so. Since Illya was usually fast asleep by that time, she thought they resolved the fight every day. But then she discovered it was only because they didn’t want to disturb her while she slept.
‘Like they didn’t disturb me when I was awake!’ Illya thought angrily, hating the way the memories awakened all her emotions that she locked up within her.
This place was an escape she had only discovered last year, on her birthday. No presents from dad, he was just an old, smelly, beer drinking moron. No ‘happy birthday’ from friends…what friends? She didn’t make contact with them, and they didn’t make contact with her.
Shoving her feelings away, she turned to leave.
Whooooosh! Something burst out of the water. Illya spun around, startled, but didn’t turn around fully enough to see what was behind her. Two sharp, painful hands grasped her shoulders and tugged her back, back into the water. Too shocked to scream, Illya was snatched away from the world.
The was a tall tree standing next to the water, a proud rich dark brown column with dark, leafy ivy twined thickly around it. It exuded and old, sacred presence, quiet and reverent. All the trees that surrounded the glade seemed to bend almost imperceptibly towards it, the rustling in their leaves a conversation of the world.
A bikini-clad girl was gracefully perched on one of the lumpy roots that protruded from the soil. She had light green eyes and straight light gold-brown hair and a slim build. A slight breeze blew past her, ruffling her hair. It seemed to whisper her name. ‘Illya’.
Then the wind came again, but stronger. ‘Come…’
Illya smiled slightly, shaking her head. Rising from her position, she went and dipped a toe in the water, then withdrew it with a yelp. It was icy-cold and immediately removed all circulation.
Rubbing her foot, Illya frowned at the water. So much for swimming.
Ever since Mum had left when she was six, Illya’s life had been terrible. Some people’s parents died, and the kids were upset and torn. But when a parent chose to leave, when they just walked out the door, leaving you crumpled on the floor clutching a table leg and sobbing aloud, it was one of the worst feelings anyone could have. She left of her own free will. She didn’t care anymore.
Before, they had lived in a bungalow with a huge mulberry tree out front and honeysuckle spilling over the garden bed and walls. Every week in mulberry season there had been a big pie with ice-cream on the table, waiting for tiny little Illya to dig into.
But then, somehow, it changed.
It had started off as quiet little arguments, small disagreements on this and that. But then gradually it had escalated into full-scale yelling, with complete disregard of what they were doing to their child’s life. The fights would stop around the time when Illya went to bed, and the start again at near 11 o’ clock or so. Since Illya was usually fast asleep by that time, she thought they resolved the fight every day. But then she discovered it was only because they didn’t want to disturb her while she slept.
‘Like they didn’t disturb me when I was awake!’ Illya thought angrily, hating the way the memories awakened all her emotions that she locked up within her.
This place was an escape she had only discovered last year, on her birthday. No presents from dad, he was just an old, smelly, beer drinking moron. No ‘happy birthday’ from friends…what friends? She didn’t make contact with them, and they didn’t make contact with her.
Shoving her feelings away, she turned to leave.
Whooooosh! Something burst out of the water. Illya spun around, startled, but didn’t turn around fully enough to see what was behind her. Two sharp, painful hands grasped her shoulders and tugged her back, back into the water. Too shocked to scream, Illya was snatched away from the world.