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The Humming Tree

Novel By: Mickel Mais

A story of a newly-deaf girl who finds a friend in the least expected and learns to live again through a new perspective. View table of contents...


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Submitted:Mar 11, 2013    Reads: 10    Comments: 0    Likes: 2   

The car slowly came to stop in the drive of a two-story house, its beauty comparable to that of the woman. Pale white paint peeled itself from the house in small patches, dirt and grime clung to the highest reaches. The lawn was barren of the lush grass that inhabited the many neighbors' yards, but was filled, instead, with mint-colored bushes and an array of different flowers. Around the house spanned a spacious landscape covered with woodchips and speckled with the occasional tree or long-leafed bush. The most noticeable feature, however, was the tall, misshapen tree that was just barely visible behind the roof of the outdated home. Curiosity from Kamille's mind surrounded the strange giant that was so beautifully out-of-place. She moved her eyes back to those of the woman and waited for whatever would come next.

Air was pulled deep within the mouth of Ms. Bellevue as she took a breath, filling her lungs and stretching them to their limit. After the recycled air was released, she felt ready to take the next step.

"All I have to do is walk inside and get Kamille resettledā€¦ Aloneā€¦"

The gravity of this sentence, once spoken, was immediately felt by Ms. Bellevue. As the words formed within her mind, they seemed rather practical; Nothing more than a mere fact. Once they had escaped into the spoken-world, it soon became a realization of a new lifestyle, new obstacles, new decisions, new relationships, and a new, though sad and rather lonely, beginning. This sentence tugged heavily on Ms. Bellevue's heart, though she knew that she couldn't let it hinder her. She now had her daughter to worry about, finances aside.

A second breath led her into opening the car door to her left. Ms. Bellevue slowly placed one booted foot outside of the car for support as she pulled herself out of the constricted space behind the wheel. She noticed Kamille staring at her with a gaze that brought a chill down her spine. That cold, icy gaze was one of familiar unfamiliarity; if such thing could ever exist. Ms. Bellevue knew that Kamille was remembering something, but that something was not her mother or her home. That look of fear, of isolation, was what she felt now and would continue feeling, but not for the same reasons as they were for Kamille.

The child sat in silent horror. Fragments of the things that had previously danced in the shadows of her mind were no longer hidden, playing a painful scene stripped of sound in front of her eyes. She could see nothing at first. She could feel nothing. Then, she was plunged into a sequence that ran reverse. Glass thrust itself from the mouth of a man in front of her. A woman flew upwards into her seat, more glass escaping from beneath the skin on her face. Kamille felt herself pulled back by a woven belt. Once again, she was plunged back into darkness. She was alone, stranded, in the shadows of her subconscious. Kamille longed for the blurs of civilization, the no longer beautiful woman, the misshapen tree, anything but the fragments and the deep black. A spike of sunlight granted her wish as it stabbed through the dark and snapped her back into the passenger's seat of the silver car. Once again, Kamille was in the driveway of the woman's home. Or so she had assumed, though she didn't know why.

Ms. Bellevue's daughter jumped as the car door opened. For a brief moment, her mother had thought that she had been startled by the sound; however, after noticing the strip of sunlight that had suddenly poured through the crack of the opened car door, she realized such a thing was impossible. This circumstance was mere coincidence, put forth to remind her of her sufferings. She slowly bent over and unbuckled the child, stopping to steal a glance for a few seconds at the innocence before her. Kamille bore resemblance to her father, and little to her mother. She had the curly, blonde hair that had inhabited his head and the same naturally tan complexion. Both had wonderful senses of humor and loved to infect others with their laughter. Ms. Bellevue felt pain in her heart as an invisible spear of melancholy impaled her, nearly pushing the water that had accumulated along her blue eyes out and down her face.

The aged woman, for the sake of her own sanity and the welfare of her daughter, decided to lock away these painful memories until they could be enjoyed again, if they ever could.


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