outside a moss-covered building that was once a meeting hall. The glass was missing from most of the windows. Those panes of glass that were still there were cracked, broken, and dirty.
The entire town consisted of no more than seven shops, each in varied states of disrepair. Some of them had stood against the weather well and had little wrong with them outside of needing desperately to be scrubbed and have doors put back on their hinges.
Others were less fortunate. They had large trees branches through their roofs. The holes in the walls gave way to weather, rotting out the floors and the furniture. One building had a tree growing right up through the middle of it.
In the middle of the shops the lane bowed out around a stone well that stood out of the tall grass. There were more hitching posts beside it.
In each of the shops was an array of items. There were pictures and old clothes. Furniture, dishes, books, cards, kitchen tools, and boxes and bags whose contents had rotted out through their bottoms. A building that was the town store was full of riffle shots and empty food wrappers.
It looked like one day everyone just left for no reason, leaving the town trapped in a long-ago moment.
It was this town that Derek had found several years ago when he was hiding from Mrs. Worthington after accidentally killing her water lilies. Positive he was going to get a beating, Derek had fled to the river, looking for some place to go until the woman forgot what he'd done. By the time he had found the river, the idea of leaving all together suddenly didn't strike him as a bad one. All alone, with no food or change of clothes, he'd struck out down the river.
When he'd gotten to the beaver dam he crossed to the other side and followed the water farther and farther from the spot where the river bank opened up. After he'd been walking for what felt like hours, Derek had come to an old wooden bridge with several boards missing from its middle. It arched over the river, ending at a flattened out point resembling a road.
Figuring a road, even one full of grass and small bushes, must lead somewhere, Derek followed it deeper and deeper into the woods until he could no longer hear the rushing river. Just when he had begun to think that maybe he was wrong about roads leading places, he came around a final bend and saw several buildings in the middle of the forest.
Running the rest of the way, he'd come to a stop in the abandoned town center, staring, awe-struck, at what he saw. It seemed like a place right out of a fairy story where some witch had chased all the people away, then made a forest, thick with underbrush and evil enchantments, grow up right from under the town's foundation, destroying and hiding what remained of the village that had mocked her...
He'd spent the day rummaging through the ruins, looking at weathered painting and crawling through every crevasse he could fit in.
It wasn't long before it grew dark. Hiding under the bar in the meeting hall, Derek had curled up, trying to sleep. The night was warm and full of noises. Night sounds of small animals, bats, and much louder things that were probably bears and wolves filled the air. Terrified, Derek had stayed huddled in his spot until dawn broke.
At the first sign of light, Derek had left his hiding place and run back up the road, down the river bank, waded through the water, and up the path to the backyard. When Mrs. Worthington found him back in his room after being gone she did beat him, both for going missing and for killing her flowers.
It was two years later that Derek went back into the woods searching for what he called his Village. It was easy enough to find, and from that time on, it was his haven. He went there when he needed to get away from his life.
During visits he would go through the old things that were lying in the street and the buildings. He even saved a few trinkets and books that he thought were particularly neat to look at.
One of the books had
The entire town consisted of no more than seven shops, each in varied states of disrepair. Some of them had stood against the weather well and had little wrong with them outside of needing desperately to be scrubbed and have doors put back on their hinges.
Others were less fortunate. They had large trees branches through their roofs. The holes in the walls gave way to weather, rotting out the floors and the furniture. One building had a tree growing right up through the middle of it.
In the middle of the shops the lane bowed out around a stone well that stood out of the tall grass. There were more hitching posts beside it.
In each of the shops was an array of items. There were pictures and old clothes. Furniture, dishes, books, cards, kitchen tools, and boxes and bags whose contents had rotted out through their bottoms. A building that was the town store was full of riffle shots and empty food wrappers.
It looked like one day everyone just left for no reason, leaving the town trapped in a long-ago moment.
It was this town that Derek had found several years ago when he was hiding from Mrs. Worthington after accidentally killing her water lilies. Positive he was going to get a beating, Derek had fled to the river, looking for some place to go until the woman forgot what he'd done. By the time he had found the river, the idea of leaving all together suddenly didn't strike him as a bad one. All alone, with no food or change of clothes, he'd struck out down the river.
When he'd gotten to the beaver dam he crossed to the other side and followed the water farther and farther from the spot where the river bank opened up. After he'd been walking for what felt like hours, Derek had come to an old wooden bridge with several boards missing from its middle. It arched over the river, ending at a flattened out point resembling a road.
Figuring a road, even one full of grass and small bushes, must lead somewhere, Derek followed it deeper and deeper into the woods until he could no longer hear the rushing river. Just when he had begun to think that maybe he was wrong about roads leading places, he came around a final bend and saw several buildings in the middle of the forest.
Running the rest of the way, he'd come to a stop in the abandoned town center, staring, awe-struck, at what he saw. It seemed like a place right out of a fairy story where some witch had chased all the people away, then made a forest, thick with underbrush and evil enchantments, grow up right from under the town's foundation, destroying and hiding what remained of the village that had mocked her...
He'd spent the day rummaging through the ruins, looking at weathered painting and crawling through every crevasse he could fit in.
It wasn't long before it grew dark. Hiding under the bar in the meeting hall, Derek had curled up, trying to sleep. The night was warm and full of noises. Night sounds of small animals, bats, and much louder things that were probably bears and wolves filled the air. Terrified, Derek had stayed huddled in his spot until dawn broke.
At the first sign of light, Derek had left his hiding place and run back up the road, down the river bank, waded through the water, and up the path to the backyard. When Mrs. Worthington found him back in his room after being gone she did beat him, both for going missing and for killing her flowers.
It was two years later that Derek went back into the woods searching for what he called his Village. It was easy enough to find, and from that time on, it was his haven. He went there when he needed to get away from his life.
During visits he would go through the old things that were lying in the street and the buildings. He even saved a few trinkets and books that he thought were particularly neat to look at.
One of the books had
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