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The rainstorm is cold. The only sound is wind whipping in my ears, freezing them so bad that they burn. My hands are limp and numb. I can not see anything except the shaking leaves, so green this time of year, and the rain.

Ever since I was young, I came into the Forest when it rained. As the years blur by, I get more addicted to the feeling of numbness and cold helplessness.

My eyes hurt from opening, so I close them. I can barely breathe because there is so much rain in the air. I feel like I'm drowning, so I stop trying to force air through my lungs. I lay down. I can feel the leaves sticking to my face. The last thing I remember is the water pelting on my face, cold and hard as cement.

I wake up later to a slight breeze and a soft drizzle. I let the wind blow me back and forth, mindlessly. My whole body is shaking, so I don't try to get up. The sun is shining through the Forest. I hear the birds singing to me, but it sounds more real than it ever has before. I wait until the drizzle stops before I try to move. I can still feel water drip into my hair from the leaves on the maple tree above me. I look up, daring to use my eyes, and I see a red bird staring at me.

Go back home, it says.

But I would rather just die here with the trees and birds and rain and-

You're going home

I'm crazy- birds don't talk or think! They can't, that's not how it works!

I think about it, but before I know it, my legs have carried me home. I'm laying in my bed, but I don't feel safe or warm. The Forest feels better than anything I know. But do I really know anything at all? I close my eyes. I want to go back to the Forest.

No! I don't want to go back to the Forest. But I need to.

I'm in the Forest again. This time it's thundering. I want to die, so I will. No matter what some little red bird or my counterparts say!

Author Notes: ** I wrote this in 6th grade- a long time ago!

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5 Jan, 2018
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