Crooked Trees

I spin around as sirens sound overhead.

   “Mum?” I breathe, running over to her. She grabs my hands.

   “We need to be quiet, my beautiful girl. Follow me.” She guides me through our house. I’m so confused I follow her blindly.

   “What’s going on?” I whisper. Red lights flash all around our house.

   Suddenly, everything is shut out. The sirens. The lights. Any light, any sound. Then, a small switch is flicked, and dim light floods the room. The room, in question, is tiny. No bigger than a small wardrobe. A small, flickering lightbulb hangs from the ceiling, and the door is decorated with many big, heavy locks and bolts.

   I turn to Mum, “What’s going on?” I ask again, in the quietest voice I can manage.

   “It’s okay, darling. Don’t fret. We’re ok. Just go to sleep.” Her voice is soothing as she beckons me over. She sits in the corner, and I curl up next to her. I hear only her last sentence as I fall asleep.

   “If they come, don’t be scared.”

That sentence sends nightmares through my mind. Nightmares that seem all too real.

   In these nightmares, so many things happen. But it’s like I watch it all rather than experience it all.

1. Figures covered in black cloth appear before me and my mum.
2. They take me, and I go, kicking and screaming, only to be knocked out.
3. I wake up to a bumpy carriage ride, the windows all blacked out.
4. I get dragged, handcuffed and cloth over my mouth, through big doors.
5. I get thrown into a pure white room.

   That’s when the nightmare ends, and I startle awake, “Mum!” I call, only to hear my voice echoing and bouncing off…off…

   Pure. White. Walls. In a small room. With a shut door and only one thin window, high, high up.

   “Where…” am I? I run to the door and try to slam it open. Pushing it, pulling it. To no avail. I yell in frustration, pounding my fist against the door. And it opens. But…not by me. Three cloaked figures stand there before they reach for me and bring me forward. I don’t object. I can’t; fear and terror close my throat before I can.

   So, I walk with them and get thrown into another, not-so-empty room.

   I’m “prettied up” by more cloaked figures. Put into a dusty, mauve-coloured silk gown—floor length. If I weren’t so terrified, I’d think it looked pretty, what, with the lace ribbon around my neck, my hair in some fancy updo that looks like something from a bakery, and the silk gloves that go up past my elbows. I even have white lace stockings on. But then I get sent back to my room.

   The bolts on my door locked, and just as I slump onto the ground, pulling off the black high heels, my dress poofing out around me, there’s a loud, squealing sound, like a speaker too close to the mic.

   “Attention all. Your doors will be unlocked in precisely two hours, and you are to follow a group leader to the ballroom. Rehearsal will begin immediately. If you are more than ten minutes late, punishments will follow.” Then the squealing sound, then nothing.

   Rehearsal? For…for what? Then I hear a sound. A different sound, more like rushed footsteps.

   “Epiphany?” I voice calls softly and desperately.

   “Y-yes?” My voice quivers. I think I recognise the voice. Then the door slams open, and…

   “Amo?!” I gasp in disbelief.

   “Yep. Come on. We’re getting out of here.” He grabs my gloved hand, his own with small white gloves, and starts moving hurriedly.

   “How did…”

   “I’ll tell you later. Just come on!” His voice is hushed, and I follow. Without my shoes, my steps are silent, and I grab a bunch of my dress silk and carry it so I don’t trip.

   We run all the way to a small white door. Very small. Like a doggy door, even.

   He undoes a latch and pushes it open, then he crawls through and then helps me through. He shuts it behind us, and we’re out in the open.

   “Amo-”

   “Shh!” He keeps going, his hand still in mine as my tights get snagged on branches and rocks from the ground.

   Finally, he stops and turns to me. We’re in a clearing, surrounded by trees and bushes. I look around; then my eyes land on Amo.

   He’s in a tux. A black one with those tail things at the back. He has a white shirt underneath, also no shoes, but black socks and black pants. His hair has been parted to the side and gelled down, and he has a white bowtie, along with the white gloves I noticed earlier.

   Our eyes scan each other, and then they meet, “What’s going on?” I whisper.

   “I have no idea Epi. Nice gown by the way.” The sarcasm is notable, but so is the sincerity.

   “Nice tux.” I say in the same tone. Amo and I have been friends for years. It’s been so long I can’t even remember how we met. Truth be told, we’ve grown apart a bit as the years have gone on, differences in personalities, I guess, but we’ve still stayed close. We’re still friends.

   “How did you get out? How did you know where I was?” I ask, dropping his hand. I didn’t realise I was still holding it. Maybe he was still holding mine too.

   “I escaped on my way back from getting,” He gestures to himself, “This getup done. They were chasing me for a while, but I lost them. That place was like a maze. They’re probably searching for me right now. And then I found you because I saw them bringing you back from getting that,” He gestures to me and my outfit, “Done.”

   “Impressive work.” I nod.

   “I thought so.” He agrees, “But we aren’t safe. I don’t know what they were going to do to us or what the ball is, but I know we equally aren’t safe in there, or out here.”

   “I’m a bit scared, Amo.” I confess.

   “Oh, stop bluffing, you’re a lot scared. But it’s ok. We’ll be safe.”

   “You just said we aren’t safe.” I counter quietly.

   “We aren’t. Not right now. But we will be. Now, let’s find somewhere to be safe. Does that sound ok to you-”

   He’s cut off by loud footsteps and branches snapping.

   “Yes.” I reply anyway. He grabs my hand again, and we start running again. The footsteps follow us.

   “Stop right there!” They demand loudly.

   “Don’t stop.” Amo whispers. I follow his instructions. I trust him. I don’t know if it’s a good idea, but I do.

   We finally outrun them, or we think we do, and find a full tree, green, leafy, beautiful, and perfect. We find a low branch and hide behind and under it. We’re breathing hard.

   “What’s going on Amo? What…what’s all that about? And this?” I gesture to our outfits and the place we just ran away from.

   “You think I know any more than you do? And we already discussed this.” He hisses.

   “Sorry.” I whisper, flushing and slumping down, crossing my legs. He moves from his crouch too, and sits in front of me.

   “No, I’m sorry for snapping; I’m just…very stressed out. I have no clue what’s going on.” He sighs, rubbing his face harshly.

   “My dad seemed to know exactly what was going on.” He tells me, sounding suddenly tired.

   “So did my mum.”

   “That’s weird.”

   “It is.” I agree. It’s very weird. What, has this happened before? Or…is it arranged? I…I’m so confused.

   Then there’s that familiar squealing sound, and Amo shushes me even though I wasn’t talking. We listen closely as there’s an announcement.

   “Attention all, in precisely one hour, your doors will be unlocked, and you are to follow a group leader to the ballroom. Rehearsal will begin immediately. If you are more than ten minutes late, punishments will follow.” Then, that squealing sound again. Then nothing. We’re silent for a minute before I turn to Amo.

   “It’s been an hour already?” I whisper.

   “What are you on about?” He whispers back.

   “In the last announcement. They said in two hours and then the exact same thing.” I explain. Did he not hear that announcement?

   “Oh. I must’ve missed that. When was it?”

   “Right before you opened my door.”

   He shakes his head, “I didn’t hear it. I was probably too focused on trying to undo those millions of bolts they use on the doors.”

   “Ok.” I nod, “Well, that means it’s been an hour since we escaped. I find that hard to believe.”

   Amo grunts, “Time flies when you’re having fun.” The sarcasm in his tone is prominent as he stands up.

   “What are you doing?” I ask, looking up at him from my still-seated position.

   “Checking to see if they’re just sitting there and listening in on us. In other words, checking that we’re safe.” He pushes branches aside and then disappears behind them. I wait, somewhat patiently.

   It feels like an eternity, so I finally start to stand up, and that’s when the branches are pushed aside again, and I fall back down, my hand landing on a harsh angle against the tree trunk.

   “Geez Amo!” I gasp, and he sits in front of me again.

   “Sorry Epi. We’re ok. For now.” He says. I believe him.

   “It’s fine.” I mumble, lifting my wrist and rearranging my sitting position. I look at my wrist, and it’s sore. Amo puts his hand out, and I look at him.

   “Can I have a look?” He asks softly. I nod, moving my arm and resting my wrist in his hand. He takes off my glove and then examines it carefully. I always forget that he wants…or wanted to be a doctor when he grew up.

   It’s starting to get dark outside, and there’s a small gap in the branches, almost like a window, that’s letting a decent amount of light in. Amo’s Brown eyes are shining in that light, almost sparkling.

   “You look good by the way.” I murmur before I can stop myself. He stops what he’s doing and looks up at me.

   “Thank you.” Then he clears his throat, “So do you.”

   I swallow, our eyes stay on each other’s, his gloved fingers rest on my wrist and it’s sending shivers up my arm and through my body.

   Then he pulls his eyes away, breaking the contact, “Um, it should be ok.” He stumbles with his words. He never stumbles with his words, “I think you’ve just sprained it; it isn’t broken.”

   I nod and swallow again, “O-ok. Thank you.”

   He looks at my face again, “What are friends for?”

   I laugh awkwardly, “Saving each other from shadows apparently.”

   “Silhouettes.” He says.

   “What?”

   “They’re called silhouettes. The black cloaked figures.” He says it matter-of-factly, like I should’ve known that.

   “Oh, alright. How do you know?”

   “The person who got me ready told me. Did yours not?”

   “No, she didn’t talk at all.” I tell him, and then I take back my wrist, pick up my glove and slide it back on.

   “Oh. Well, all he told me was that they’re called Silhouettes. And that… never mind.” He finishes quickly.

   I narrow my eyes, “And that what?”

   “Nothing. I said never mind Epi. It doesn’t matter.”

   I frown, but drop it. We can’t turn on each other, “Fine.”

I wake up – not even realising I’d fallen asleep – to the sound of birds chirping and the sun shining in my eyes. It could be any normal morning. If my neck wasn’t sore and I wasn’t dressed head to toe in fancy clothes. I’ve been sitting up all night. I look for Amo. I can’t see him. Where is he?

   I sit up more, “Amo?!” I yell.

   “God Epi.” His voice comes from outside the leaves, “Are you trying to get us caught on such a beautiful morning?”

   I breathe out a sigh of relief, and stand up, my legs sore too. Pretty much everything is sore. And that just makes me think of my wrist, which makes it suddenly start to ache.

   I wince as I push aside the branches to join Amo.

   “It is a beautiful morning.” I murmur, almost in a trance, forgetting about my injury. The sky is blue and clear, and the sun is warm and bright. You can still see the moon too.

   He’s smiling, not looking dishevelled in the slightest.

   “You look great for having slept outside on the bumpy ground.” I mumble, my voice annoyed, but I’m not really. He looks at me.

   “Thanks, you too.”

   I shake my head, “No I don’t. Or I don’t feel like it.”

   His eyes scan me, “Well, you do.”

   I blink, surprised, and I don’t know why, “Oh, well, thank you.” I nod, smiling a little at the compliment. He smiles back. His smile is gorgeous. It goes well with his gorgeous face.

   “You’re welcome.” He looks back up at the sky, “God, I can’t remember the last time I saw a sky this blue.” He murmurs. I look up too, realising I was watching him.

   “Me too.” I agree, as I realise he’s right. It’s always gloomy, sometimes sunny, but never blue. Not like this. Not with barely a trace of a cloud.

   I let the comfortable silence spread between us, and then a small, fluffy-looking cloud drifts into our vision, and I smile.

   “That looks like a butterfly.” Amo whispers, his calm voice just adding to the peacefulness that I’m feeling. I tilt my head slightly to the side.

   “It does?” I whisper back.

   “Yeah. Look.” He points, stretching his arm out, and I look at the cloud as he explains. He traces where he can see the wings with his finger, and I nod, smiling more when I see it.

   “Can you see it now?” He asks, and I nod again.

   “Yeah, I can.”

   We’re silent for a bit longer before it breaks. There’s a sound of branches and leaves being ruffled behind us, and we both spin around.

   “Freeze.” The voice comes from behind the bushes, “Do not move.” It demands. The voice is deep and gravelly, and I don’t trust it.

   I feel Amo’s hand slide into mine slowly, and he backs us away.

   “Stop moving.” The voice says firmly.

  “Follow me.” Amo murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. And before I can react, he turns us around, and starts running, practically pulling me behind him as he moves through the bush and undergrowth. I can hear the footsteps following us, getting faster and faster as we start to lack speed.

   “Amo-” I warn, about to tell him that they’re going to catch up to us, when he stops, turns his back to me, and says, “Get on my back.”