Chapter The First

The girl wandered through the thin slices of tree, the tree that had once been her home. She remembered it, vaguely, the golden wood that had slowly been bleached to white. The bugs, her friends, who would wander in, munching happily on her tree. The girl was never upset, though. Her tree was plenty big enough to share, and the bugs were always good company. She remembered the day when the saw blades had come, leaving her mouth full of the bitter taste of blood. They had cut up her home, shaving it into thin pieces, splattering ink onto her beautiful home. She crawled through the narrow spaces left blank, occasionally bumping her head on the strange figures. It was pitch black. 

Gleaming light rained down on the pages. Pages. That must be what the shaves of tree were called. She squinted at some of the figures, now visible in the sudden light. O n c e u p o n a t i m e, Weird. The little squiggles meant nothing to her, and she continued on her way past them. A shadow cut the way across the pages, and she glanced up, annoyed. Two giant eyes looked down at her, scanning the page she was on. The girl sat down, gazing in awe at the giant Reader. That was what she was! The Reader. The girl knew, somehow, that the Reader was important, so vitally important. Everything depended on the Reader. The Reader’s lips moved. The girl couldn’t hear the Reader, but she saw it’s lips moving. ‘Once upon a time,’ She lip-read. Oh! The girl glanced back at the squiggles she’d looked at earlier. That must be what they meant. Now it seemed obvious, so clear. The girl went along with the Reader, spelling out the beginning of a story. 

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Aspen. She lived in an old cottage in the woods. It was old and musty, but Aspen loved it there, taking care of all the creatures that passed through. 

The girl soaked in the story, closing her eyes to imagine it for a minute. The words seemed vaguely familiar, like an old dream she’d forgotten about. When she opened them, there it was. Her home! How could she have forgotten about it? Her good old home, with the foal wrapped in a blanket by the door, and the self-made dream catcher hanging above the bed. She laughed, then frowned. But what about her other home? The golden wood home with the branches so high they scraped against the clouds and sky. How could this be her home if the tree was her home as well? One could only have one home, after all. The foal nickered, standing up, and the girl rushed to it. She laughed again, petting it’s nose. This had to be her home. After all, she remembered everything about it, and little of the tree. She decided that the other home must have been a dream. It was an odd one, to be sure, but that was the only plausible explanation. 

Author's Note

The chapters have no accordance to anything, it's just how much I wrote at that point in time.