Gipsy - a short story

Gipsy

Scuttling through the forest, Melanie ran. The fir trees around her stood tall and mighty, and every branch which twisted itself into her hair made her gasp for air, every pestiferous shrubbery made her quake with pain and fear. She scampered throughout the woodland, prying her way through the pernicious trees. He must not get to her! she thought as she ran, the leaves from the trees above drizzling over her head.

A stout bird cawed in the background, nibbling at a tidbit of something that seemed as if it was once alive. Melanie shivered, not stopping to be appalled. She had no time for that. Her excursions out of her shelter have finally been detected. She couldn't have done anything differently, though – provisions were running short. There were hardly any interesting games anymore; she needed to find more.

The falling leaves reminded her of the parasols her parents had once made her carry, in fear of the sun reaching her pallid skin. That was, of course, before they decided to lock her up in that horrid place.

The footsteps of the butler were growing nearer. "Miss Brown," he shrilled. Despite being breathless, Melanie managed an inaudible giggle. Just imagining the aggravating old man with the twittering silver mustache running was amusing.

The waxing leaves, colored sulfur-yellow crunched beneath her feet. Hush! She pleaded with them noiselessly. Please don't give me away. It seemed that the leaves listened to her prayers because she reached a damper part of the forest in the following minutes. The squeaking sound her feet made when they hit the dirt was much quieter than the crunching. Grateful, Melanie hurried on.

The spiny bushes were growing thinner, but now the woods were growing thicker and thicker, making it harder to move. The butler's footsteps slowly faded. Melanie came to a halt, trying to listen through her huffs. She wiped the sweat off her brow and the back of her neck. This was probably the most effort her body had ever produced. She managed a smirk. She knew she wasn't bedridden like the doctors had said. She could run, just like anyone else.

Melanie placed both her palms on her knees, letting her knotted, now slightly dirty, light blond hair fall over her face. The remnants of her long skirt were most likely scattered somewhere in the trail she'd ran. She wiped her face again. Her blue skirt now reached her knees, which were bloody and full of scratches.

Blood pumped behind her ears. I made it, she thought almost dizzily, an exuberant smile stretching across her thin lips. Of course she would have to come back in due time, and of course she would be punished terribly for this, but she didn't very much care. She, Melanie Brown, had finally managed to get slightly farther away than her family lands on her own! She's found that crevice in her parent's armor, and now she was free!

The pumping behind her ears continued as she sat herself down on the soggy ground. But besides the pumping, there was another sound, nimbly catching the young girl's focus.

The young Lapp boy stumbled through the trees. His tan skin reminded her of the Latin guests her father had once had. His dark hair was cropped short, his almond shaped eyes reduced to slits. "Who's there?!" he asked anxiously, his face crumpled up in fear.

Melanie raised her violet eyes to meet his muddy ones. "Gipsy?" she wondered. The boy met her gaze, let out a short yelp at her eyes, but nodded. He was brave, she noted; he stood his ground. "Good." Melanie felt her face perk up. The boy no longer seemed as scared. She rose to her feet, brushing what was left of her skirt. "I'm Melanie Brown. I want to join your…" She bobbed her head to the side, searching for the right word. "Tribe. Yes, that's it."

The boy spoke then. "You want to be a Gipsy?" There was some skepticism in his voice. His baggy clothes were dirty and worn out, but he didn't seem to mind as he folded his arms.

Melanie nodded. "Yes. I do."

The boy stared her down for a few moments before shrugging. He stretched out a hand. "Are you sure?" he asked. He had a peculiar accent.

Melanie nodded again, impatiently this time. She took the boy's hand. "Yes," she repeated.

For one moment, the boy seemed at a loss, but then he collected himself. "Fine, then," he said quietly, dropping her hand. "Follow me. I can't make the choice myself, though, mind that."

Melanie didn't say a word this time, since the boy walked straight into the forest, deeper down the thick trees. She followed, dodging low branches. "Hey, you!" she called to the boy. He turned around wonderingly. Melanie huffed. "What's your name?"

The boy smiled a wide smile. His teeth were yellow.