Publisher's Mind: Beneath the Cherry Tree

Her lips pressed against mine, soft and dripping with the taste of paradise. I embraced her longingly beneath the cherry tree’s warm, pink leaves in the early autumn sun, wrapping my arms tightly around her waist.

A new light shone in her brilliant, green eyes as the kiss I had waited for since early childhood came to end, my soft, blue eyes glowing just the same. I brushed my hand through her chestnut hair, barely able to contain my ecstasy.

“Took you long enough,” Emilie teased.

She was right. We’d known each other as long as I could remember and now we were in our mid-teens. She was my best friend, and I hers. We had only each other as we watched the world fall apart around us.

The Final War had started when we were eight. It’s crazy to think that had only been seven years before that day beneath the cherry tree. The war lasted a long three years filled with hunger and disease. Our area was too far from anywhere important in Middle-of-No-Where, Ohio to see the fires that raged across our country, but that was never much of a reassurance when every news broadcast on the television and radio that remained in-tact reminded us every day of the struggles along the coasts, knowing it could reach us at any time if the levee broke.

You’d think our parents would have stayed strong, but they had completely deteriorated by the end of the first year. Emilie’s father started drinking when her mother passed away from a particularly devastating flu that had ravaged the nation when the war began. My father just left. My mother still functioned normally during the day, keeping up with her job in fast-food for minimum wage. Once she was home it was like she just fried out, holing herself up in her room for hours on end. Eventually, she broke and the sickness got her, too. Part of me died every day I watched her fade.

I became homeless, living in a tent in some local woods. The world was burning and this place was all I had ever known. That, and Emilie would refuse to leave her father, while I refused to leave Emilie.

We kept each other company throughout countless days and broken nights filled with tears. The world was strange and jaded, but we were familiar. I held her when the bombs fell at the end of the war, but it was just as friends. It had always been that way and we were both afraid to change it.

None of it mattered that autumn day. I don’t even know what came over me. We were talking about something I can’t remember and I just leaned in and kissed her. She looked so beautiful with rose pink petals dancing around her in the wind.

I awoke from a long death beneath the cherry tree. I had forgotten what it was like to be happy until that moment when the rest of the world melted away. Emilie was mine, and I hers.

“Run away with me.”

“Only if you’ll always hold me like this.”

“I promise.”

We kissed again. I owed her a hundred kisses, then a thousand more. My cheeks became streaked with joy.

The days that followed were never easy, but having Emilie by my side made every moment worth it. With the war long gone, she and I wandered about the ruins of a once-great nation. Many cities that used to shine brightly with towering buildings and magnificent lights had been left with no illumination at all, while others had been fortunate enough to thrive under primitive, tribal-like governments. The people in those cities were usually kind, though often wary of strangers. Who could blame them? Anarchy swept the nation in the wake of the war’s end.

It was easier to live outside the remains of civilization. The country remained lawless, but the mountain kept us fed. That, and I loved the endless expanse of green; finding in it a serenity that allowed me to forget the war had happened. Emilie even befriended a hare she made me promise not to trap. I guess I grew fond of that adorable, brown ball of bouncing fur, too. I loved watching Emilie cuddle Jasper.

My happiness and pride grew with Emilie’s swelling belly. The dark storms of our past had become distant, fading memories that left the ground fertile for new life to bloom.

I was hunting when I saw the tracks. Standing out against the landscape that hadn’t been disturbed by another human for years, I wasn’t sure how to feel about the three sets of footprints I found following the riverbank up the mountain. All I knew – all that mattered – was they were heading my home where Emilie rested in wait for my return, already late in her pregnancy.

I thought I could catch up. Why had I spent so much time hunting that day? The worst part was hearing her scream when I was nearly there. Perhaps I shouldn’t have called back. Maybe then they wouldn’t have known I was on my way.

Seeing her lie there, covered in blood and peppered with bruises, I felt that last sparkle of my soul shrivel away. A blood-curdling scream rose up out of my chest as I chased after the ones who had taken her from me. I wish I could remember their deaths. Blinded by rage, I tore them apart until there was nothing left to tear.

With nothing left to keep me in the mountains, I began to wander again. It felt different, colder. I paid little mind to other people. Everyone I ever loved had gone, taking what was left of me with them. Most of the time my feet would carry me on their own accord. It’s not like I cared where I landed, anyway.

The taste of autumn’s early breeze, forgotten and familiar, filled my senses when I realized where I was. Before me stood a cherry tree left frozen by time; its soft, pink petals dancing in the wind. For a brief moment, nothing had changed. Emilie and I were still young, holding each other tightly for that first, passionate kiss.

I wept for love and for loss, happiness and sorrow. The cherry tree still stood while my world had been cut down. I lay beneath the tree, holding my love as I slept.

---

Charles Whaley the publisher of The Adventurous Pen and author of Through Kaleidoscopes. He spends his nights in a cave in the foothills of Appalachia while working on his next book. 

The Runaways

I sit and wait among the bushes as the cars go by, their sirens blaring. Looking to her, sitting beside me, I see the flashing lights illuminate her delicate face as she looks in fear. She tightens her hand around mine until they have passed and gone. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I looked to her and her to me, and we set off out into the night.

We’d been running for almost two days now. Anna’s parents must have called the police this morning and reported her missing. I know it wasn't my deadbeat father who did. He probably popped open a few beers in celebration that I was out of what hair he had left. I didn't ask Anna to come with me, but she had insisted -- or more demanded -- that I take her with me; and if there’s one thing I've learned about being in a relationship, it’s that when your girlfriend wants to do something you think is dangerous or even stupid, you don’t tell her no.

So here we were, running along the side of interstate 74 at 1:00 in the morning, taking cover in the bushes when cars drive by. A runaway, not exactly what I wanted to be when I grew up.

I know we shouldn't stop, but I can see the exhaustion in Anna’s face. Her pace had started to slow, so I took her over into the trees and found a safe spot to rest for the night -- or really morning.

“No,” she said. “I can keep going, really.”

“No you can’t. It won’t do us any good if you stumble and fall and hurt yourself somewhere along the way because you were tired.”

“Allan, it’s okay. I’ll be fine.” Despite what she said, her eyes were already starting to close. I think she was about to say something else, but she didn't get a chance. Before I knew it, she was asleep, her hair falling over the right half of her face.

I took my backpack off and retrieved a blanket from it. I put my back up against the pine tree we were taking shelter under, placed Anna against my chest and draped the blanket over us. Though I was tired, I didn't try to sleep. In fact, I probably couldn't. So I stay awake and watch the occasional cars pass by, hoping I wouldn't hear the sirens again. I looked down at Anna as she slept, her eyes gently closed. I hated to bring her into my problems, but I know she wants to be in them. I’ll probably never love anyone more.

It seemed like only a few hours, but soon I could see the sun begin to rise in the distance. I looked at my watch: 7:20. I sighed, and then gave Anna a little shake to wake her up. She did, reluctantly, we put our packs on and once more we set off. Where we were going and how long it would take to get there, neither of us knew. But, we’d find a way.

I looked to the east where the Appalachia’s stood, proud and majestic. They looked to be a mile or two away, which wouldn't be too far if we hadn't been walking all of the last two days. Getting there would seem like nothing, though, once we had to start our ascent. I’d hiked before when I was in the Boy Scouts, but then I did it for fun. Now, I’d have to do it for the sake of being free of that poor excuse of a dad sitting at home drunk, watching reruns of Law and Order.

We walked for a while, leaving the freeway -- and hopefully the police -- behind. From now on, there wouldn't be many roads, if any. Maybe that will lower our chances of being caught. As we walked, I looked to Anna. She was looking at the ground, and seemed to be thinking about something. If I had to guess, I would say she was thinking about her parents; at home, worrying about her safety. It must be hard for her to leave behind people who really care about you. I wouldn't know.

I stopped as I heard a rustling sound off to the right. Anna heard it too and snapped out of her train of thought. We ducked down into the foliage and I looked to see what made the noise. My fears were averted as I saw two deer standing still as statues about 10 yards away. Anna saw them too, and she began to giggle, and then full out laugh. I couldn't help but laugh too despite how scared I really was.

At the sound of our laughter, the deer bounded off into the trees. When we finished laughing, I sat up and took my backpack off. I opened it and pulled out two granola bars. Anna finished taking a sip of water from her canteen as I handed one to her. When we first set off, I made sure to buy whatever food and other supplies we’d need. Now that our names and faces were probably on the news, I don’t think walking into the Walmart to get a soda and some candy bars is a wise idea.

When we finished eating, I helped her up and we began walking again towards the mountains. We mostly walked in silence, but sometimes she would say something and we would talk for a little while until the conversation died out. We reached the base of the mountain at 9:45, which wasn't too bad for a couple of tired teenagers. I looked to see if Anna was okay to keep going. She saw me, and as if she read my thoughts, she nodded her head and we started up the mountainside.

“You know,” she said. “I wish I could take the time to really appreciate the views.”

I agreed. East Tennessee was beautiful in the spring, especially in the mountains where civilization could barely reach.

“I used to hike in these mountains,” I began. “Mostly with the Scouts, but sometimes when my dad would be passed out drunk, my mom would take me here.”

My mother died when I was eleven years old. It was my father’s fault. He had been drinking again, and my mom had accidentally dropped a plate on the floor. When he heard the crash, he stumbled into the kitchen and started yelling at her. She yelled back, and then with drunken rage, he slapped her across the face. She stormed out of the house, got in her car, and drove out.

Later that night, some police officers showed up at our door. My dad was passed out on the couch so I answered the door. They held up my mother’s driver’s license and asked if she lived there. I nodded slowly and then the man knelt down to be eye level with me, and he told me she had died in a head-on collision. I remember that I just stood there for a few moments, letting the weight of his words settle upon me. I’m not ashamed to admit that I began to cry, and I cried until the tears wouldn't come anymore. My mother was the only person in this world that I cared about and that cared about me. I would have killed myself had I not met Annabelle Roberts.

Still walking up the mountain, she was quiet for a moment, and then she said, “I wish I could have met her. She sounds like she was a good woman.”

“She was,” I said. “The best woman I ever knew and will ever know.”

Trying to change the subject, Anna brought up my days as a Boy Scout.

“It was pretty fun,” I explained. “We learned all sorts of life saving skills and we practiced archery. The most fun was at the summer camp.”

“Summer Camp?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “For one week, a bunch of different Scout troops would come and take classes to get badges. You’d mingle with the other troops and make new friends. It was always amusing when one of the troop dads brought the occasional daughter to camp.” I chuckled. “There’s nothing funnier than watching a bunch of guys -- in a camp of Boy Scouts mind you -- drooling over the same girl.”

She laughed. “I can’t imagine being that poor girl, spending the week with a bunch of smelly boys.”

She wrinkled her nose at me and I couldn't help but smile. No matter what, she could always manage to make you feel good, even in our special situation.

“Well, girls aren't so much better,” I teased. “If you get too close to them, you might get cooties.”

She gives me a playful shove and we keep on walking. When it starts to get dark, I look at my watch and realize it’s already 6:30. My stomach starts to growl, loud enough for Anna to hear. She laughs, and I suggest we make a shelter for the night. I pull off my backpack and set it down under a good sized pine. Then, I take out some granola bars and beef jerky. Not exactly a four-star meal, but it will have to do. As Anna begins to eat, I try to drink some water from my canteen, but all I get is air. Anna checks hers, and gets a few drops. Great, I thought.

“Maybe there’s a stream nearby,” she says, hinting that I should go look.

I sigh and take out my headlight. I strap it on, grab the two canteens, and head off into the growing night to find water. I look for a few minutes before I find a small stream. I bend down to fill the two containers, and when I’m finished, I close the tops and turn to go back to our makeshift camp when I hear a rustling sound nearby. Probably just some animal, I think. Then, I saw the light from two flashlights. My eyes opened wide and I ran off to find Annabelle.

When I make it back, she looks at me with questioning fear. I explain to her, and she hurriedly puts everything into her pack, and we run off up the hill. I turn back to look for our pursuers and see the lights steadily making their way up. I turn back and dash off. I’m sure they saw me by the stream, or at least heard me when I ran away. It seems I’m correct, because when I turn back the second time, not only are the lights closer, but I can make out their figures in the distance as well.

I hear a squeal from Anna and turn back to see her lying on the ground where she just fell. “My ankle,” she said. “I really hurt my ankle.” I looked back at the gaining lights, then turned back to her, lifted her up in my arms, and ran as fast as I could. I knew I wouldn't be able to keep it up long. I hadn't slept in days and we've been walking almost non-stop. I started to look for a place to hide.

As I ran past the trees, I saw a small place under a small rise in the ground. I made for it, and placed Annabelle gently inside. Then, I squeezed into the tight space with her. There were a few small roots sticking through the ground above us. I hold Anna tight to me as I listen intently to the sounds outside. I hear the two men slow their pace until, eventually, they stop. My heartbeat is racing and my breaths are ragged from running so much, but I try to remain silent.

I hear one of them speak to other. “Did you see where they went?”

“No” came the other man’s reply. His voice was sickeningly familiar.

“Boy, where are you!” he shouts.

It’s my dad. I don’t recognize the other man’s voice, but I’d wager it’s one of my dad’s drinking buddies. I hear him walking around, searching, as my father shouts out again. “Allan, I know you’re out here. And that little whore of yours, too!”

I wanted to punch him in the face, but knew I shouldn't try; else I’d give away our position.

Anna begins to cry, trying to stifle her sobs with her hand. Her attempts are made futile as a sudden gunshot goes off into the night. Startled, she cries out, and then quickly brings her hand back to her mouth, but it’s too late. Hearing her, one of them walks over to where we’re hiding. Before I know it, two hands grab me by the shirt and pull me out. My father throws me to the ground and his cohort grabs hold of me. Then, my dad pulls Anna from inside as she screams.

I struggle against the man holding me back, but I can’t break free. My father’s holding Anna by the hair while she cries. “You see,” he says, a drunken look in his eyes. “This is what happens when you think you can pull one on your old man.” He yanks on her hair and she cries out in pain.

“Stop, let her go!” I shouted.

“I don’t think she’s learned her lesson yet, have ya’ you li’l slut?” He gives her hair another strong pull. I fight and fight the man restraining me. I stomp hard on his foot, and manage to break away as he yelps in pain. I run straight at my dad, and throw a punch right in his gut.

He stumbles back, letting go of Anna. I tell her to run away but don’t have time to make sure she does as the other man is coming right towards me, his plump face red with anger. I lean down, grab the shotgun my dad dropped on the ground, and come back up hitting him across the face with the stock, knocking him out. I turn to see my dad getting back up, rage in his eyes. As he takes a step towards me, I pump the shotgun and point it at him.

He looks at me and smiles with malice as he says, “You wouldn't; you don’t have the balls to shoot your old man!” He shouted the last part.

“Just try me,” I said. “You've given me hell all my life. I’m not afraid to return the favor.”

His smile vanishes, and he lunges toward me. I feel my finger pull the trigger, and then the loud sound of the gunshot as my father falls back, a gaping wound in his chest. My ears ringing, I walk over to him and look into his glassy eyes as they stared up at the night sky. He was dead.

I hear a sound to my right and turn, muscles tensed and ready to fight only to see Annabelle standing there. I slowly relax and then drop the gun to the ground. She walks over and embraces me, her soft, tear-stained face pressed up against mine. I return the embrace, and we stand there for a few minutes before we hear sirens in the distance. Apparently, after hearing the shots that were fired, some people in a cabin not too far up the mountainside called the police. This time though, we didn't run.

Once the police arrived, we began to explain everything to the officer in charge. They put the unknown man in handcuffs and my father in a body bag. The officer sat us in the back of his cruiser as he went to go finish up things.

“Is it bad that I don’t feel sad?” I ask Anna.

She puts my hand in hers and replies, “Of course not. He was an awful man and he got what he deserved.”

I nod slowly, and then look up as the officer returns.

“Alright you two,” he says. “You’re going home”

The entire ride back, Anna lays her head against my chest. At some point, she falls asleep. Before I know it, so do I. When I open my eyes, were on my street. Anna lives a few houses down from mine. We arrive at her house first, where her parents are outside waiting. Anna gets out of the car and runs to them. When she reaches them, they embrace her, tears streaming down both of their faces. I get out of the car too, but I don’t attempt to walk over there. I can’t possibly be their favorite person in the world right now. Eventually, Anna breaks from them and walks back to where I’m standing. She hugs me, and then we kiss.

“I love you,” she says.

“I love you too,” I reply.

Then, she walks back to her parents and they go inside. I return to the cruiser and sit in the passenger seat. The officer drives down the road, but passes my house. Of course he wouldn't take me back to my house, I thought. There’s no one there to greet me. Instead, he drives me down a little further to another house; one I only barely recognize. A friend of my mother’s lived here. Apparently she still did. I get out of the cruiser and walk up to see a man and a woman standing by the door. I learn later that my mom had named them my godparents in the case I had nowhere else to go.

“I haven’t seen you in so long, Allan. Look how you've grown,” the woman (I think her name is Jennifer) says.

“I’m glad to see you’re alright, son,” says the man, whose name escapes me.

The officer leaves and I’m left standing with two people I hardly know. They invite me inside and show me to a bedroom upstairs.

“We’d always wanted a child,” says Jennifer. “But, I’m unable. We’d given up a long time ago.” She smiles, “I’ll be more than proud to call you my own.”

For some reason, I smile too. I feel as if I've walked into a dream; one without my deadbeat father, one where I’m free and happy. I walk into the room and she shuts the door on her way back downstairs. I set my backpack down and the flop down into the bed. Without even taking off my shoes, I drift away into a peaceful sleep.

---

Kory Flatford (Artifex)

My name is Kory Flatford, but I like to use my alias "Artifex" on my work. I was born June 21st, 1998 in Knoxville, Tennessee. I've lived there ever since. I live in a family of four, my parents and my older sibling of two years who shares my birthday. I currently go to Halls High School, where I'm finishing my Sophomore year and getting ready for my Junior Year. I'm in the art club, the book club, and I am a member of the Halls High Marching band where I play Percussion. I've grown up with a love for the arts and for music, and hope to make a career as an art teacher one day. 

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