The sky was the colour of the ripest peach; the clouds reminded my of a delicate creme. Peaches and creme. My stomach rumbled at the thought. I laid back in the grass, my eyes barely open as I gazed at the setting sun. It was almost six in the evening, almost time for me to start heading home. I spent hours in my favourite meadow, far away from my home, but still on my families sixteen acres of land.
Yawning, I brushed my hair from my face and leaned forward, resting myself on one shoulder. I looked straight in front of me, at my favourite tree on my families property. It was an ancient oak, with massive branches and beautiful leaves. I spotted a squirrel scaling the trunk, heading towards the branches, probably in search of an acorn. I pulled my camera up to my face and put my eye to it. I zoomed in, focused, and took a picture. The small squirrel was looking right at me.
I zoomed out and took a picture of the entire tree. I'd probably taken the same shot twenty times before, but I couldn't help myself. It was just so beautiful. I went to my camera gallery to look at the shot. Something big was laying on a branch in the picture. I looked up, towards the spot where I saw the shape in the photo. I couldn't see it well, so I looked through my camera. Zooming in a little more, I saw what looked like a body. I snapped a picture. My heart began to beat faster, faster, faster. I thought it was going to bust out of my chest. There was a body draped lazily on a branch, it's head supported by the tree trunk. I stood up, quietly walking in a crescent shape around the tree. I wasn't scared, but I was curious. I probably should be scared.
I zoomed in a little more, until I could see the face of whoever was in my tree. Were they alive? Their torso moved up and down, like they were still breathing. Yes, they were still alive. I snapped a picture, and held my camera back to look at it. The person in my tree was a boy. He was beautiful, his lips curved upward in a small smile. But he looked like nobody I'd ever seen before. He looked almost extra terrestrial. I was frightened now, mostly because he was smeared in blood. His clothing, untraditional in everyway, was ripped and bloodied. I felt scared, but not threatened. My hands were shaking. My heart was thumping a million miles a minute. I wanted to take another photo, but it would come out blurry.
I struggled with my camera, doing my best to hold onto it tight. I went to settings. I turned on burst shot, so that my camera would take five photos one second apart. At least one would turn out good. I held my camera up to my face, zoomed in just the right amount, focused it so the image would be clear, and for some reason I closed my eyes before I took the pictures. Once more, I went to my gallery. If I wasn't so afraid, I would have dropped my camera. I screamed out loud, though, and it was very loud. I looked through the five bust shot photos once more.
Photo one: a bloodied boy asleep in my tree.
Photo two: a bloodied boy sitting up, his eyes still closed.
Photo three: a bloodied boy sitting up, his eyes open, curiously looking right at my camera.
Photo four: a bloodied boy standing up, glaring at me, his face contorted in what I could only assume to be rage.
Photo five: a bloodied boy's back as he jumps from my tree.
I left my meadow then, scared and curious at the same time. I didn't return for six days. When I did return, I almost wished I hadn't.
