The Branch Above

The day is new and full of hope, hope for a better tomorrow. I didn't want to wake up today, not here. Not in this world. Let me take you back a few years; nineteen to be exact. I was just a child, a mere few weeks old, and my parents took me camping. I am talking middle of nowhere, tent for shelter, no toilet camping. I can not say that I remember every detail; in fact, there's only two things I can recall. Owls. Two beautiful white owls perched on the branch above.

I had spent eighteen years in that home, Madam Sherry's Home for Girls. I began to tire of the story. The same story I had heard from every person for my entire life; "all we know is you were alone in the woods, we don't know what happened to your family." Before my eighth birthday, I just stopped asking and concluded that if I wanted answers, I would have to get them myself. Being a foster child, part of the 'system', your every move is monitored and you are forbidden to do just about anything that could be considered 'dangerous'; which could include literally everything if you think about it. The day I finally aged out of the system was the first day of the end of this life.

"The night is dark and full of terrors" echoed through Madam Sherry's bedroom walls. She was a committed Game of Thrones fan. My theory was that she enjoyed the nudity; she must have been lonely, at least I had never seen nor heard about her having a partner. Madam Sherry was nice enough, but it was 12:02 am; I was officially eighteen years old and out of there.

The contents of my black bag were simply clothes and a piece of paper; a drawing of two white owls. I had worked hard on it, far from an artist, I cherished my drawing. My sole accomplishment in life, besides surviving in the woods alone for at least three days (or so I was told) as an infant, was the drawing.

My obsession of these owls has led me to three conclusions: first, they were protecting me; next, they were not of the world we know and finally they were my parents. Now that I was free to go anywhere and do anything, I would journey into the forest. I may not be able to recall much consciously, but I knew that my subconscious mind would lead me to where I was meant to be.

As dawn approached, I gazed upon the towering cedars that outlined the forests edge. The sun rising ahead was nothing short of a sign that I was in the right place. My first step into the forest would be a step into the hopeful rays ahead; stepping out of my dark past and into a bright future. I took a deep breath and welcomed the exhilarating and unfamiliar emotions that consumed me.

That was four hundred and twelve days ago. I have wandered this unforgiving and unfamiliar forest for over a year now. Starting to lose hope, this beautiful and serene spot along the river seems to restore my light. The water is racing by me in a calm yet authoritative manner. The leaves are dancing in the wind as if puppets on strings. I remember my first step into the forest as if it were yesterday; the hope, the sunrise, the excitement. I had been looking forward to that day for eighteen years, yet I was completely oblivious to the shear size of the forest; that first step had only set about the long, perilous journey ahead.

I have had zero sightings of the owls and winter was fast approaching; I barely escaped it's icy clutches last year, I am not certain I would survive again. I had to get somewhere or do something and I needed to do it quickly. My plan for the day was the same as each day before, to get to (or at least closer to) the owls. Seems simple enough, but factoring in the lack of direction, memory and frankly a general idea of anything at all; well that brings on some hurdles.

Set aside my realization and panic of the approaching winter, today started off well. I caught two trout and was able to get a fire started; I was concerned as we had some heavy rain a few nights ago but I got one going! I feasted as though I was a child eating pizza for the first time. Being more satisfied than I had been in a very long time, I began packing up my things into my 'hand made with leaves and sticks' backpack and set off. Little did I know, that would be the last time I ever ate like that.

Before the sun had touched the center of the sky, I had taken about 25,000 steps; according to my calculations, that would be about twelve miles. I developed this intricate system to track my movement after going around in circles for about the first month out here. First, I find a decent sized slice of bark; then I find a rock. You can probably guess the rest. I know, I am a genius. Hey, it's better than walking in circles. Anyway, if my calculations are accurate and I have traveled that far for that long, how can I possibly be back at the quaint little spot by the river where I gorged myself on trout just this morning?! Did I miscalculate? Get turned around somewhere? Am I losing my mind? Although the latter is a slight possibility, I knew something wasn't right.

"You've wandered too far!" He said. "You shouldn't be here!"

In the midst of my frantic search to find the voice, I heard a slight fluttering sound behind me. Before I could turn around, everything went dark.

"What are we going to do with her? She can not stay here!" My head was pounding, I couldn't seem to open my eyes ,however, I was coherent enough to realize that this was a woman's voice; not the man I heard before. She had a soft, familiarity in her voice, but she was frightened.

"We have to get her home, Rick! She is not supposed to be here! This isn't the life she was supposed to have!" The woman choked back sobs. Trying again, I managed to open my eyes ever so slightly, yet enough to see them; two white owls perched on the branch above.