Young Writers Society

Ok... Here's the second chapter. I don't think its nearly as good s the first and will probably change it later. I've just decided to title this 'The Cherry Tree' for the moment so you will all know what it is, but this is not the final title! Anyway, comments please?

Chapter 2

“I knew you was gonna be trouble the day I let you pick your own name.” Large, dark hands lifted the limp bundle firmly from the doorstep and carried her tenderly inside.

“Eyes….” The girl mumbled, “She had…. N –no eyes….”

“Shut your mouth and be quiet until you can talk straight.” Her carrier said as the girl continued to mutter undistinguishable bits and pieces of sentences.

“Get a rag and wipe up some of this darn water!” The woman bellowed over her shoulder.

Several frightened pairs of pattering feet hurried to do her bidding.

The girl vaguely felt herself being carried upstairs and laid upon a bed.

“Then she ….she dissa- disappeared!”

“Din’ I tell you to shut your mouth?”

“She…She had… had no face…”

“Be quiet I tell you!”

Apparently the girl could not hear. “Gone…and the tree…n –no…the cherry tree…no…no eyes…”

A large dark hand was clamped over her mouth, then suddenly, it drew back in alarm.

“Goodness! This is worse than I thought…” Her chair strained under the

pressure as the woman swiveled about, craning her neck to bellow out the door.

“Get a rag and some cold water in here…Fast!”

She cocked her head, listening, and grunted as she heard a small pair of feet stir and patter to the kitchen below. She turned about once more and laid her black hand firmly upon the girl’s forehead.

“Eyes…” The girl shifted restlessly. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. “A cherry tree….”

A small girl pattered into the room and heaved a large bucket to the floor sloshing water out of the sides.

“Clumsy girl! Look what you’ve done! Why I go to the trouble, seriously! I could well do without you clumsy, good for nuthin ….” And here she went on, casually throwing off her usual insults and busying about laying damp rags upon the thrashing girl’s forehead.

“You better tell the rest of the girls they better sleep downstairs tonight” She continued. And the little girl scampered off breathing relief.

The large woman continued her incessant tirade about the children in her care as she went about caring (quite tenderly despite whatever she may say) for the girl. But the orphan did not hear the words. She saw only the distorted form of a tree, dangling with cherries dripping juice like blood. Saw only a woman, staring at her with no eyes to see from, no nose or mouth to breath from. And she felt, with a trickle of sweaty fear, a tiny object clenched tight in her hand; and yet, try as she might, she could not pry her fingers from it.

And outside, a deluge of icy rain poured like tears from the sky. But if anyone had looked up, and somehow managed to see through the wild torrent, there would have been no clouds… no face to cry from.