By Kelly Keene

In early May, the earth was damp and cool. Icy patches had thawed and fresh warm sunlight breathed new life into the green trees and nesting birds. There was still a chance of rain, but the sun threatened to melt clouds away in equal measure. Mom and Dad had prepared a meal, chicken legs, potatoes, some green beans and salad too. Dad had an evening lecture to attend in about an hour, and mom was pouring herself a glass of wine. 

“Julia!” she called over her shoulder,  “Dinner!” Her call floated up the stairs, and into the bedrooms of the rest of the house. It didn’t make it outside, but landed on the porch instead. This cabin-style house rested on five acres of land that felt like twenty five as it pressed into the dense trees at the edge of their property. They were twenty minutes from town, but had plenty of room to roam, explore, play and create. The field out back was vast, but the shed, and the porch left small spaces a young child could hide. 

Julia heard her mother, but ignored her. She wasn’t hungry, and had better things to do. She’d found some extra clay in her mother’s supplies, and crafted a small turtle she’d named Henry. Henry, she decided, would be a good playmate for Lily, the cat. She had to find Lily though, in order to properly introduce them. Julia was another fifty yards away when her mother sighed, and said, “I’ll find her later.”

“She needs to eat.” Dad said. But Mom only nodded, and brought a green bean up to her mouth to nibble. 

When Julia reached the treeline she sang out, “Liiil-lyyy!” But no cat appeared. Julia waited a moment longer, standing in place, her feet planted into the cool earth. She stared up into the trees, letting small beams of sunlight shine down on her freckled face. 

Oh well. Lily, it seemed, did not want to be found. She brought Henry, instead, to the little stream, knelt down and let him swim in the water. He grew soft and pasty, one of his more delicate legs broke off, and his tail smushed into his shell. Julia rested him on a rock to dry. 

That’s how she found the perfect stick, pointy and sharp. She dug it deep into the bed of the pool at her feet, and scraped around, til the water grew murky and brown. “Chocolate milk” she whispered, then scooped her hands in and pulled some up to her face. “Mmmmm” she pretended to take a sip, “Henry do you like chocolate milk? I love it nom nom nom.” Henry was back in the pool, this time his face destroyed when he smushed up against a rock, overcome with thirst and an aggressive need to drink it all up. 

After a while, Julia realized that poor Henry needed someone, a friend to play with. He was an only child, afterall, and probably got bored drinking chocolate milk all day. So, she looked around and found some supplies. She poked a larger leaf through the top of Stick and made two small slits for eyes with her thumbnail. 

“Henry, this is Stick- your new best friend.” Next, she found some rocks, and slapped some moss onto each, using the mudd as an adhesive so Henry and Stick’s dogs would be covered in fuzzy fur. “Let’s walk the dogs Henry,” said Stick, and together Henry and Stick took their dogs deeper into the forest. One dog had to pee, the other sniffed Henry’s tail, then licked Stick’s face. When they reached a giant oak tree Stick introduced Henry to more of his family, his mom and his dad, and his seven brothers and sisters. Each had a leaf face of their own that matched Stick and showed that they belonged together. 

“Do you have any family?” Stick asked Henry.

“No, I don’t think so.” Henry replied, “I had a dad, but he left. I only get to see my Dad on Christmas, but when I do, I give him a big hug.”

“That’s nice,” said Stick. And then, they chased each other back to the river. 

After Stick and Henry had gone swimming, and tried to talk to some tadpoles that hid and squirmed away from them, Julia began to get a little cold. Her shorts were soaked when she went into the water up to her hips, and her thin shirt was covered with clay and soil. She started to feel the absence of sunbeams peaking through the trees. She started walking towards the house, but zigzagged through the field, avoiding the gofferholes, and alternating from 10 one legged jumps to 10 crab shuffles to avoid stepping on any snakes. 

Inside, the house was even darker than the dusk. Julia did not call out to anybody, but wiped her muddy hands on her shirt before grabbing a chicken leg off the plate on the table. She stood, and ate the whole thing down to the bone. A fistful of salad finished off her feast, then she drank some water from the bathroom sink before bed.