A Good One Gone

Chapter 8

I realized that I might need my bag for something, so I quickly ran back in the front door and headed up stairs. I grabbed it from my room and ran back out side. I headed down the street, down to Jakes. It was 7:13 when I arrived, I figured that I'm not going sit on his front porch like a lost dog and wait 17 minutes and then sneak up into the Forrest, where I was supposed to meet him. I was in front of his house, and I cut through his yard and headed into his Forrest. I shoved my hands into my pockets as I gradually came closer to the black, wetness of the Woods. I walked over twigs, and under fallen trees. I was only a few yards in and I could already see my shoes getting muddy. I walked a little further, then I heard a voice behind me.

"Hey, your a little early, well, follow me." He said. I jumped, and almost hit him when I spun around. He started walking deeper into the woods, as I followed. He wasn't really showing any emotion on his face, but he seemed nervous. After a few minutes, we came up to this tree house with a rope latter, with wind chimes all around. The windows were faintly glowing, and the wind was making the wind chimes ring. Jake started climbing up the latter and I started to follow. There was a little deck on the front of the beaten up little shack. The windows were fogged over, and there were branches going through the floor boards of the deck. There were birds nests everywhere and moss starting to form on the tin roof of the little house. Somewhere in the background I could hear faint slow country music playing.

Jake grabbed what I thought was a door knob, and opened a small door for me to enter. The door was about five or so foot tall, and the roof was about six and a half. When I stepped in, I noticed that the inside of the shack looked more like a small cottage. The walls were nice, and the floor was strong. The one room little house was clean, compared to the outside. There was two shelves with big unscented candles on them, and little animal bones and other trinkets. There was a small radio on the edge of one of the shelves and a box of shotgun shells next to it. There was a clock ticking away on the wall and a bear claw necklace hanging next to it. There was a little brown love seat with a folded blanket on it, and a coffee table with more candles and what looks like a collection of pocket knifes, and a coffee mug.

There were pictures of Jake as a kid. There were more wind chimes hanging from the ceiling. I noticed that the wall that had nothing against it was covered in dream catchers. On the same wall as the door, there was a space heater and a shotgun leaning up against the wall. In the middle of the space, there was a brown rug with an old calico cat laying down sleeping. I walked inside and the cat looked up at me then went back to his dreamland. Jake stepped in and shut the door behind him. He walked over to the couch and sat down. I followed him and leaned into his chest and grabbed his hand. The sun was setting, and the pink from the sun was struggling to find a way into the room because the windows were fogged.

"What is this place? It's really cool." I said while listening to his steady heartbeat, and feeling the warmth of his touch. I looked up at him, and he was already looking at me. He brung his hand up and started running his fingers through my hair. He opened his mouth revealing his white teeth against his tan skin.

"This," he paused, "is my old tree house. My parents used to live on the other side of these woods, and my dad built this tree house for me before my house I live in now was built." He said looking away. I started rubbing his thigh with my other hand. "My parents house had gotten condemned and the town had plowed it down. I forgot about my old tree house until about a week ago, and I've been meaning to tell you. I also, have something else to tell you." He said. I noticed as soon as he said that last sentence his heart beat had sped up a little.

I turned over and was now laying on the love seat with my head on his lap, looking up at him I was holding his hand on my stomach with both of my hands. He reached out and grabbed his mug. He took a big, slow, drink from it, then set it back down. I looked up at him with big eyes, pleading for him to proceed because I may just die from the suspense. He starts stroking my hair again and starts to speak again.