I'm not entirely sure what this is. It started off as someone committing suicide, but as you read on, you will see it never got that far. But anyway, this is a one-off thing.
I had been here before. Not only among the trees, with birdsong all around- but in my head, too. As I stepped further into the underbrush, off the beaten trail, so did my mind slip further off the rails of sanity.
Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I was screaming at the lumbering idiot to stop, just stop, but I didn’t listen. I never do, come to think of it. Always, it was right there, on the edge of vision, at the very limits of hearing, on the brink of perception. It was in the odd looks I would receive when I walked down the street, the woman gathering their children closer- No more, no more.
They had never understood, and now they never would. I loved them all dearly- smiling at the grimaces, gathering warmth from the grunted greetings. Much nicer then that place- oh, how I hated it. Full of fake, painted smiles and strange colors. A real grimace was nicer than a fake grin- one was full of real human emotion, the other full of false promises- This won’t hurt a bit oh no you look fine this will fix you right up here just one more dose relax it’s for your own good yes we’ll take you to the zoo just as soon as you are better come now just one more needle it won’t hurt it will make you all better bedtime wake up television time lunchtime do you need to go to the toilet okay just one more spoonful then we’ll leave you alone…I had gotten out of there, eventually. I was too smart for them, for them all. They can’t take me back oh no oh no…
I stopped, peering behind me carefully, they are coming they are coming they are coming, my knees quivered, and I wondered how much longer I could go on. For a short while, it had been okay. I had a little room, and a pet cat. The cat didn’t do much, and smelt terrible, and was stiff to touch, but I had done good. There was lots of food in the bowl, I filled it every day. It had spilt onto the ground, but as much as I told the cat off, she wouldn’t eat. I didn’t mind. She was a good friend.
So was the lady who lived down the stairs. Her hair was all wiry, like a wire scrubbing pad, and she looked at me with sad eyes. But she gave me food and let me sleep on the little mattress in her roof, so I decided she was okay. But I didn’t let her see my cat. She would take her away, just like they had taken away my bird. I couldn’t dare lose my friend.
But then the phone calls had come. I had waited, shaking in the roof-room, behind something cream, dusty and large. I would sit there for hours, trying to decide how they got all those tiny little threads to sit right, under and over each other. They were the people around me- winding backwards and forwards, over and above, in some elaborate game I didn’t understand. I was that loose thread, there, that stuck out. Ugly, begging to be plucked from the perfect, uniformly cream cloth. It was when I was contemplating this that the downstairs lady had knocked on my door.
“Are you decent?”
I nodded, I was sure I was. I think I would know if I wasn’t decent.
“You have to use your words, dearie.”
I cleared my throat. “Yes, Miss.”
The door that was in the floor opened, upwards rather then the normal sideways ones. I quite liked it, and had spent a few hours thinking it over a day before.
“I just had a phone call. It was a Doctor- he said he needed to see you.”
My throat went dry, and my gaze fell back to the loose thread on the cloth. She kept speaking. “He said he would send around a car.”
There was a curious flickering in my chest, which quickly grew faster and higher, until it was a buzz in my throat. My fingers twitched, muscles tense. My breath came hard and fast.
“You told them where I was?” My voice was harsh, slurred, different. I stood to my full height. “Miss, you a bad lady. I thought you were nice, but not anymore. You shouldn’t have told the doctor where I was.”
She looked so tiny, peering up at me short-sightedly. “Nonsense. He will help. Have respect for your elders, young man.”
A burning, hot feeling rose in the back of me, burning my head, it hurt. I yelled, and lashed out, trying to make the feeling go away. My hand hit something solid, that hurt too. Wailing, I cradled my aching hand. Only when my sight cleared I saw the lady sleeping on the floor, red stuff coming from her mouth. What an odd time to take a nap.
I bent down, touching her arm softly. “I’m sorry, miss. I didn’t mean what I said. You’re a good lady.” She was limp under my touch, warm and soft. My cat felt like that once, but her head had been at a strange angle, then she went all stiff. I wondered if I shouldn’t have played catch with her- she hadn’t been very good at catching the hammer I threw her. Maybe she was still mad.
The lady’s head was on straight, but she seemed to be limp all the same. Red stuff was on the floor, leaking from her head. I thought it was gross. “Miss, you’ll have to clean that up. You made it.”
She didn’t answer. The hot feeling came back- why was everyone always mad at me?
And then I had remembered that the Doctor was coming. I had gone downstairs, grabbed the shiny thing that the lady wouldn’t let me touch, and it bit me. More of the red stuff came out of my finger, and I growled. I stomped on the silver and black thing a few times, and then put it in my pocket. I always wanted one, even if it did bite me. The lady had made food with it, I had seen.
And now I was lost in a world of green and brown. I had been here before, a long time ago. My Mam had taken me, and showed me the flowers and the birds. She had been a nice lady, but she had always had eyes full of sadness. I caught her with a wet face many times, but she would never tell me why. She would just smile, ruffle my hair and send me away.
Then men had put her in a box one day, when she was asleep. I tried to tell them she was sleeping, but they had looked at me with wet faces and smiled. Then they had put her in the ground, and put dirt on her.
No one would tell me why, and when she would be coming back. They just smiled and hugged me and made my shirt all wet. Then they had taken me to the doctor to be looked after, they said.
But now I was free. No-one was here with me. I looked around the trees, and wondered where they came from. I had painted them before, had these been painted with a really big brush? No, they weren’t wet and sticky, like mine had been.
I sighed slightly, and sat on the sleeping tree, lying on the ground. It was softer they the others, and flaked away when I pulled at it.
Smooth, white wood was underneath, I touched it slowly. It felt good, smooth, and cool against my fingers. I pulled the silver thing from my pocket, and crouched on the ground. I slowly pressed the biting edge against the outside, rough layer of the sleeping tree, and slid it between it and the nicer, smooth white layer. With a flick of the wrist, the brown layer came away and dropped by my sneaker. I smiled- there was more of the nice white wood beneath.
Why do trees hide their pretty white wood under the ugly, rough brown?
I spanned my hand across the rough brown outer layer, and frowned. My skin was brown, and rough, too. Was there beautiful wood underneath?
Slowly, my breath quickening in excitement- oh how wonderful it would be to smooth and beautiful, like the wood of the tree- I pressed the biting edge against my foot. Start from the bottom. Become beautiful from the bottom up.
The biting hurt, but I gritted my teeth, and pressed harder, sliding it underneath the ugly, brown layer and releasing more red liquid. It burnt like fire, and I stared at my foot. There was a long lump, and when I wriggled the handle, it moved backwards and forth. The bite was worse then I expected. Water dripped from my eyes, and I screamed. Pulling out the biter- now red, not silver- I threw it away, the hot feeling creeping back, this time up my throat. More water dripped from my eyes and I pressed my forehead against the smooth wood of the sleeping tree. I will never be beautiful.
They found me a while later, those men in white. I think I had been there a long time, but I didn't know. They took me away.
They took me home.
I am now sitting in a deckchair, my foot covered in nice white cloth. A lady gave it to me, along with those little white food that don’t taste like anything. I lean forward, staring at the little threads, seeing how they dance in and out. They remind me of the lady at the house.
I smile, and wonder how she’s doing.
This was a really interesting story- amazingly written too! 
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