The Dwelling Place

Chapter 5

Several weeks had passed since I had vowed to let the girls have more freedom outside. It was now the beginning of March, and the weather, being typical for where we lived in New York showed much of the snow was gone. I referred to this as mud season. Some days it snowed- though it never stuck for long -and some days it was warm enough that if you could stay in the sun, you could wear a tee shirt. Most days, the air, that was once void of any smell at all during winter, was full of rich earthiness. You could smell the sweetness of the thawing soil and the musk of last autumn's decaying leaves. The deciduous trees were still naked, and sometimes the wind howled through their rattling bare branches much like they would on Halloween. Spring was the eeriest time of year for me. It felt like a time when we earnestly awaited the wakening of the earth, and while we waited, we rested tired, sun-blinded eyes upon a seemingly barren and empty forest. The most considerable disparity between spring and autumn was our newly profound and unconscious appreciation of the sun. In October, after a long hot summer, the cold feels a bit colder, and everyone, even the kids, are willing to put heavy warm coats on at 40 degrees. In early March though, after a long cold winter, where you have seen the temperatures of -20 or colder, you welcome 40 degrees with bare skin that lusts for even just the smallest drop of sunlight. Today the thermometer read 50 degrees while the sun created the feeling of a temperature much closer to 60 degrees, and I was doing all I could to soak in every precious morsel of warmth. It fueled my inner being and I knew that when the girls got home from school I could never ask them to come in.

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The sun shone through the hand smudged window and warmed my face on my way home from school. I replayed my last encounter with Isaiah, and I knew that Vanessa and I would be seeing him when we got home. I didn't have a lot of homework this evening, and the weather was so nice I knew Mom would agree to letting me be outside to play before dinner. I was silent on my way home. I let Vanessa sit with me today to help protect her and myself from having to deal with the constant drama of the bus. Things on the bus had been difficult since moving. I was surprised actually. I thought since I wasn't changing schools that changing buses was no big deal. I was wrong. These kids were so much meaner and so much snottier. I hated riding this bus. Up until now, the bus had been a kinda fun place. It was loud, and we were silly and squeezed, sitting three in a seat, occasionally falling out on the floor from laughing and playfully shoving. Now, if we fell, it was likely because someone pushed us meaning harm. Now we were quiet because other kids were quick to yell, belittle, mock, or call us names. I had been told to “shut up” more in the last five months than I had in the previous eight and a half years of my life. Mom was mad about it. Mom said kids liked to pick on those that they were jealous of. I hardly believed that. Mom said I was the “prettiest girl in 3rd grade and one of the smartest too”, and, while I did bring home a perfect report card with all A’s, I hardly believed I was the prettiest. I definitely thought I was one of the weirdest. I imagined that my mom probably didn't know what it was like to be a weird kid, and, today, I was feeling a little bad about it. Finally, the bus stopped in front of our house.

Vanessa and I walked into a quiet house. It had the faint, sweet, and musty smell old houses and old wood have.

“I’m out here!” I heard my mom yelling from outside. Vanessa and I walked out and found mom raking last Fall’s leaves. We moved in after the ground had already frozen, and no one likes or wants to rake leaves when its already cold. Now she tried to play catch up with the yard work, hurrying to rid the yard of leaves before they suffocated the new spring grass. Logan ran around yelling wildly, much like a little dinosaur might. “RAWR!” “RAWR!”

I laughed and wished I was little again. Free from the confines of school and social norms.

“Mamma can Tasha and I go for a walk,” Ness asked before I could.

“Absolutely.” She smiled and brushed the hair away from her face. We ran inside, dropped our bags in our rooms, and dashed out the door. We knew the way now. We ran to where we needed to go. I felt the burden of school and popularity lifting with each step, and it seemed that now we were racing.

“I’ll race you there!” I shouted with a smile. Vanessa laughed and ran wildly. She was so big and strong for a five-year-old and was nearly bigger than I was. I touched the tree just before her and quickly dove under the old oak. We both laughed and panted. We sat for a moment, just inside the living forest, catching our breath, before the climb down to see Isaiah. That was when I noticed something horribly wrong. I looked down into what once was Isaiah’s dwelling place, but the trees that once stood proud now drooped like old celery. We climbed down and yelled to Isaiah over and over again.

“Tasha,” Ness looked at me with sad eyes, and then she looked up at the trees. “Tasha the trees look sad. They look sick.” I hated the thought, but she was right. I thought back to when my Mom’s jade tree started to die. It was a slow process, but I remembered the leaves turning black and wilting. I remember my mom saying the tree had a disease and that it was sick. Until then, I didn't know trees could get sick. Slowly, the once vibrant towering jade tree lost all its leaves, and then its branches started wilting. Eventually, the branches fell off. The insides turned to mush, and it rotted from the inside out. These trees had that same sickly look.

“Let's walk a little,” I suggested, and we started walking curiously out of Isaiah’s dwelling into the rest of the forest. Things were so quiet, but I could still hear the creek babbling. The snow was not gone in the woods, and it lived safely in big patches where the sun would not touch it. I didn’t know where I was headed, but I thought that I could get to the tree library. Just then I tripped.

“Watch out Natasha!” I felt something grab the back of my shirt and shorts. It scratched and pinched as it lifted me off the ground. I screamed in a panic as my arms and legs dangled like a poorly behaved marionette puppet. Vanessa shrieked behind me.

“Ness what got me!?” I swung myself wildly in the air attempting to see her.

“The trees!” she let out a wail, and the words were nearly lost in incomprehensible sobs. She was so scared. I was so scared.

“SILENCE!” I stifled my whimpers and swallowed my sobs the best I could. My face turned red as tears streamed down my face. I could hear Vanessa do the same. I breathed heavily, trying to calm myself down though I was so scared I felt the uneasy sickness bubbling up in my stomach. “She has come and stricken many with the sickness. YOU FOOLS! Tramping around mindlessly yelling and shouting.” I looked now into the face of a tree.

“Who are you?” I stuttered a little.

“I am Methuselah. I am the brother of Prometheus.” I think, at that moment, he thought that explained everything, but I was still confused.

“What are you and Prometheus? How do you walk and talk? Who poisoned the forest?” The questions spilled from my mouth until he interrupted me with a deep sigh.

“I am a tree. About half of the living forest is composed of living trees such as myself. While many trees and plants can only communicate through their roots, we move our branches freely and talk openly with all the other beings. I don't walk, but I can still talk with Prometheus through the ground network that all the plants have access to. You children...you must quiet down. You stomp so belligerently through the forest that all the tree spies for miles around can hear your footsteps. You yell so freely that any bird, or rabbit, or mouse can tell Ophelia you are here and looking for her.”

“No,” I interrupted before he could go on. “I’m not looking for Ophelia. I DO NOT want to find Ophelia. I’m looking for Isaiah. He’s my friend.”

“SHHHHHHHHH!” Methuselah hissed vehemently. He now whispered and held Vanessa and I closely to his trunk. “I can only assume you do not know who your friend is or why he is so important.”

Isaiah is important to us because he is our friend. That is all we know. Can you please tell us where he is?” I asked earnestly.

“Isaiah is the keeper of the forest. Ophelia came to his dwelling place while Isaiah was heading to the counsel and began spreading her poison to the trees of his home. Once she finished there, she cut him off mid-flight, and they battled in the sky not far from this spot. I could hear the commotion and the screeching. It was no use for Isaiah. Though he is a fierce warrior, she used her dark magic and cast a spell upon him before he could contain her, and he fell from the sky, crashing through many trees.” The tears began welling up in my eyes, and I could feel my face was hot again. “He still lives, but likely in a sick trance-like state in her new dwelling place.” Methuselah wiped the tears from my face with his scratchy, leafless branch. It was a nice gesture, but uncomfortable all the same.

“Where is her dwelling place?” Vanessa asked quietly from behind me.

“Oh dear, I do not know.” The great tree talked in a low calm voice. “She has many allies now, and may be living anywhere.

“We are going to find them,” I said indignantly. “I am going to find my friend.”