literature

Psycho-Therapy

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Literature Text

Chapter 1

The Beginning

     A frail girl was running through the woods. The sun was just setting behind her, the sky a multitude of blues and oranges, the horizon a bright pink. Though, this girl did not have time to admire the scene around her. She ran through the bushes and brambles, seeds sticking themselves onto her olive drab denim jacket and her dark grey sweater. The few low-hanging branches of the oaks and birches surrounding her would brush against her as she bolted through the thick wood. Soon, she reached the edge of the woods. “The End of The Woods” as they were called by the locals, were highly unnatural. It ended in a straight line of towering oaks that stretched for miles around the perimeter of the city and neighbourhoods. Each tree on the perimeter were evenly spaced apart, and even the exact same height. No one could explain this, for even when the city records were looked over, there was no sign that these trees had ever been planted or planned or anything. They had supposedly grown like that.
    The girl was aware of the strange phenomenon, but at the moment, she had other things to worry about. She slammed through an unlocked wooden gate that was around her height, and skidded into a very bare backyard. The back door was open and the girl stumbled into the disorganized kitchen. There was a pile of dirty dishes in the sink, food splatters on the ceiling and on the floor, some of which had become very mouldy and stuck permanently to the tiles. One of cabinets that was above the stove was hanging open. Inside was a piece of bread and an apple, which a group of ants was sharing between themselves. The girl glanced around, making sure no one was in the room with her. She looked down the hallway that was adjacent to the door, starting at the end of the kitchen. She padded across the tiles of the kitchen in her mud caked boots, leaving footprints behind. She quietly traversed the hallway, stopping at the very end door and opening it. At the boarded up front window was a woman in a wheelchair. The woman’s grey hair was up in a ratty bun, and the back of a collar of a long dress was just visible over the back of the wheelchair.
     The girl approached, what to her, was a beautiful woman in her late 30s. Her hair was a dark brown, almost black like the girl’s, and it was up in a tight ponytail. The girl circled around the wheelchair and sat down on a makeshift wooden stool that was next to the woman. Her eyes were a friendly bright blue, and you could see the smile in them. “Back?” The 39 year old woman asked, pivoting in her seat to face the girl. The girl nodded, a smile spread across her face. “Are you hungry, Blythe?” The woman continued, addressing the girl as Blythe, which was her name. Again, Blythe nodded furiously. “Come along then,” The woman lightly took Blythe’s hand and guided it to her back. Blythe pushed the woman along gently, all the way to the kitchen again. They entered the kitchen, and before Blythe lay a sight to behold. The entire place was sparkling clean, the tiles reflecting the orange and purple light from the setting sun. Even the wallpaper, in its unpeeling glory, seemed to shine. Sitting on the counter on the left to the sink was a plate of steaming hot food, replacing the piles and piles of dishes. Blythe took the food and muttered in a weak voice, “Thank you, Mum!” As she spun on her heel to face the woman—or, ‘Mum’.
    Mum smiled, “Eat up now, you need it.” Mum said placing her hand on Blythe’s. The two of them slowly walked over to a small circular table in the corner of the kitchen. Blythe and Mum sat down “Mum, w-w-where’s your food?” Blythe asked. “Hold on, watch!” Mum said brightly as she reached into the pocket of her long skirt. Mum looked like the 50s “American Dream” mom. Her light blue and yellow flower-patterned skirt went to her knees, and was always moving. Her pastel pink button-up had its sleeves folded back, and pinned in place. Blythe always thought that Mum looked wonderful, and sometimes they would play dress-up, and Blythe would do her best to dress up as Mum. Mum pulled her hand out of her pocket to reveal a plate like Blythe’s. On it, there was mashed potatoes, corn, slices of baked ham, and even cranberry sauce! It was the same meal as Blythe, but Blythe’s didn’t mind, why would it bother her, anyway? The two of them dug into their meal happily, at least...to Blythe.

I'll be updating this paragraph by paragraph, then once I've finished Ch. 1, I'll do a different thing for Ch. 2

Hope you like! Critiques are welcome!
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