Cottonwood
Flash Friday Friday prompt #1
Flash Fiction Friday is hosted by . These stories are written as writing exercises that take me between 1/2-1 hour, and therefore are less polished than my usual work. They will also appear sporadically, as I may not necessarily have time every week to write a prompt response. I do think they’re fun to share, though, and I hope you enjoy seeing them!
This week’s story influence brought to you by: buying cottonwood saplings for our property; reading 100 Cupboards to my kids.
I rolled up the sweater I was holding and glanced over at my duffel bag, lying in the center of the bed. The zipper on the top of the bag gaped open, stretched by all the possessions I'd packed into it. At this rate, I wasn't sure how I would ever close it, much less fit one more thing into it.
I squished the sweater's folds in my hands, contemplating. I'd already packed two of my favorites, ones that were made of softer wool. This one was acrylic, and scratchy. Theoretically, it was one of my favorites, but I realized I'd rarely worn it. Besides, it was a light silver-grey--that color wasn't going to last long in the woods.
"Kira?" My brother's voice filtered up the wooden stairs.
"Coming!" I shouted. I tossed the sweater back on the shelf, surprising myself at how little it hurt. The zrrrrpppp of the duffel bag's closure sounded loud in the little wood-paneled room, bouncing off the walls that had been stripped of their personality--all my posters, knickknacks, and pictures had either been packed away in the duffel or, for most of them, put into boxes in the attic. Those stung a little more than the sweater.
The zipper jerked to a halt, caught on something. I tugged at it, swearing under my breath in frustration. I'd already given up so much...what was it now? I shoved a few things around until I found the culprit. The corner of my hardcover collectible edition of The Lord of the Rings--complete in one volume like Tolkien intended--had snagged. Oh no. I wasn't going to leave that behind. I'd carry it if I had to.
I pulled it out of the duffel bag and set it on the bare mattress, then finished zipping the bag.
"Kira?" Dad called, his tone no-nonsense. "We have to leave, now, or we're going to miss our chance!"
"All right already!" I shouted back, hitching the duffel onto my shoulders like an enormous, unwieldy backpack. I grabbed the book and staggered my way down the stairs.
Jake guffawed when he saw me. "That bag's gonna burst before we've gone two miles. What's in there, makeup for the next decade?"
"Shut up," I growled. I hadn't packed any makeup, and he knew it.
Mom tapped the cover of the book I had cradled in my arms and started to say something. My stomach tightened, and I hugged the book to myself. Please don't tell me to leave it behind, please.
"We're burning time, folks, let's go," Dad said from the doorway.
Mom stopped, sighed, then gave me a quiet little smile as she shooed Jake and me out the door of the old farmhouse. We followed Dad through the pasture gate, up the hill to the cottonwood trees.
The trees had already gone to seed, a little early this year, and their branches were covered in fluffy white catkins. A piece of the fluff broke off, floating for a moment before the light breeze broke it apart, each seed spinning out into the air in an eddying dance. I turned to watch them, looking down the hill at the old farmhouse with its peeling paint and leaky windows and the back porch door that stuck closed in the summer because of the humidity. It had been my home for seven years.
And it was time for a new adventure.
I shrugged, wincing as the pack straps dug into my shoulders, and turned around. Dad was waiting for me just under the trees. He put his arm around me, squeezing gently, as we walked to join Mom and Jake. Dad glanced down at his watch.
"Any...second...now..."
The sound of rushing wind filled the tree branches above us, and just in front of Dad, a circle of blue energy spiraled open like a sci-fi space ship door. The energy around the circle crackled and sparked, and through the circle we could see another hill, this one covered in golden-green summer grass, rippling in the wind.
"Let's go!" Dad said, stepping forward into the portal.
I brushed my hair over my shoulders, felt something snag on my fingernail. It was a cottonwood seed, pale and glimmering in the portal's light. I tucked it into my pocket and clambered through the portal after my family.