BHS Inkwell 2017-2018

tangling into my hair. We exit the forest close to the abandoned barn, and stand still for a moment, listening for the sound of feet pounding behind us. All we can hear is our own heavy breathing mixed with the sounds of the forest behind us settling down after we so clumsily disrupted the sleepy quiet. “This is the worst thing that’s happened to me since my parents named me after their dead dog,” Rufus groans. “I hate this weird-ass town.” Rufus walks me home to make sure I’m okay, but I don’t stop shaking until I’m in bed under a mound of blankets, with the curtains yanked closed and the door locked tight. I close my eyes and try to rest, but… is that the sound of muffled chanting in the distance? No, I tell myself, it must be the rustle of leaves.

We don’t return to the Meadow the next morning, or the next. Weeks pass, and Fenton is plagued.The sunset colored leaves have begun to fall from the trees and the air has grown cold by the time the mayor announces that the town has decided not to sell the Meadow after all. “We have encountered some opposition from… certain people in recent months about this decision,” he said in an interview with the local newspaper, “We have decided that it’s best to leave the Meadow as a public place for everyone to enjoy.”He also announced that the three-eyed coyotes are particularly numerous this year, and families with young children should stay away from the Meadow and the forest around it. “Thank God we’re graduating this year,” says Rufus when I tell him the news. “We seriously have to get out of this town.”

Mary Gabbard

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