Spirited Away

Summer is the warmest season of Earth's four temperate which happens between spring and fall. Sunny skies and warm temperate beget as it gives life to the trees and plants--the sun makes them more vibrant. It's a pleasant season for our environment.

I used to love summer. I like how the sun caresses my skin, the stinging feeling when it touches me through the curtain in my room in the morning as I lie on my bed. The smell of the flowers carried by the wind from our lawn. I used to watch the roses and daisies dance because of the mischievous wind.

I used to love summer until that one last fateful summer.

I remember it was a sunny day on September 3rd when it happened. The day that has changed me and the day I will not forget for the rest of my life.

3rd of September, 2019

The noise my parents does make every morning has become my alarm clock and unfortunately, I have grown accustomed to it. They always fight over something like money or sometimes for no good reason. My parents were never on the same page ever since, I'm surprised they're still together. I never once saw them holding hands, kissing or simply making an effort to show their affection to each other.

Maybe love does really fade through time. I once believed in the word 'Love' but seeing them together made me think it's just a foolish ideal, fabricated by an immature fool.

I stretch out my limbs and crack my back by steadying my lower part--legs and twist my waist by facing at my side, waiting to hear the satisfying crack. I also cracked my fingers one by one, my weird habit.

I combed my messy bed hair with my fingers before fastening it into a bun with my scrunchie. I fix the bed before sauntering in the bathroom which is also my restroom, to wash my face. After that I grabbed the face towel hanging on the towel rack along with my towel and tapped my face lightly with it whilst retreating my steps towards the closet.

My room is tiny, enough to fit my average sized closet, study table, and my bathroom excluding the small balcony connected to my room. In there, I spend a lot of time reading, painting, writing in my journal, and admire the nature while sipping either tea or coffee. It's quite the most peaceful moment. I could not ask for more.

I stripped from my nightgown and changed into an old, light blue strapped floral dress and pair it with my worn out brown ankle boots. Satisfied with my appearance, I smile to myself.

We live in a rural area consisting of only hundreds. People live simply here. It's what I love the most--its simplicity. There are a handful of diners but not those fancy kinds, there are also department stores, and the public library where I also spend most of my time. My mother works at the diner while my Father's occupancy is a contractor.

I walk into the kitchen where my, still, arguing parents yell at each other, but they stop the moment I walk in. Father propped himself on his chair whilst Mother served breakfast. I took the sunny-side-up egg and 3 pieces of the pancake before i started to dig in.

"Lily" Father called. 'Lily' was shortened from 'Lilieanne'

I look at Father as a response.

"Can you give this letter to Mister Sanders?" I nod and continue eating silently.

A few minutes passed I pick my plate and stood up, putting the plate on the sink. After drying my hands, I run upstairs to get my sketch pad and back again in the kitchen to snatch the letter. I plucked my straw hat from the rack and then proceeded to walk towards Mr. Sanders' house which was just located not far from our house.

The only sounds I hear are my footsteps every time I step on the dead leaves and the birds chirping. The sunlight kisses on the trees. It was so bright. Until I see the huge abandoned mansion, it sits on the grassy part beside the small lake, probably a hundred yards away.

I remember Mother used to tell me not to go there since it was dark, old, and abandoned. The caretaker of the house died 20 years ago.

I continue walking and turn to Mr. Sanders' street. Mr. Sanders is a kind, old, and frail man who lives alone after his wife died of cancer a year ago. A few minutes later, Mr. Sanders' house came into view as I saw him sitting on his porch as if napping. I carefully approached him but the sound of my footsteps woke him. I smiled as his face took recognition.

"Hi, Mr. Sanders." As I step on his porch.

"Hi dear, what brought you here?"

"Oh, I brought a letter for you." I had the letter which he took right away.

" Thank you so much, dear. It's from my daughter."

"You're welcome!" I waste no time and proceed to step down when he stops me.

"Oh wait." He stood and entered inside so I waited a few seconds until he came back, handing me a small plastic bag of chocolates and biscuits.

"Thank you!" I wave and trace the path I took on the way but I stop when I see the old house. I look up to the sky seeing It's still pretty early to go back home and I don't have anything to occupy myself.

I look at the mansion again and march towards it, clutching my sketch pad closely. I don't know why but, I got the feeling that I needed to be near that house. I shrug, moving forward.

KS