(Discussion thread: https://pokecharms.com/threads/the-thickets-of-clairesbrook-discussion.22016/)
June 11th, 1992. The day had been warm.
Basil Mendoza pondered on this fact for a moment, shrugging her bag over her shoulder. The day had been warm, but not insufferably hot; no, Clairesbrook didn't often get hot. Now that they were approaching the evening, a cool breeze ran through the air, yet it wasn't an unpleasant one. The weather seemed, for a lack of better words, perfect. She'd been able to enjoy a little picnic with a friend.
She entered her house with a lazy greeting to her parents, who returned it with as little fervor as she shouted it. Basil was never particularly close with her parents, but did have a decent relationship with her little brother. Still, though, Atticus Mendoza could be quite bothersome. With the thought of what really made "perfect" weather still lingering in her mind, she tossed her bag onto her bed, sliding into the chair at her desk and booting up her computer. While she waited for it to boot up (yes, waited,) she drummed her fingers along her desk, humming some obscure tune she couldn't put a name on. She was just about to open Instant Messenger when a fleck of dark green caught her attention from her peripheral- she turned towards her window, her gaze landing on a creamy, yellow envelope with a crest, a beautiful shade of forest green.
Furrowing her brow, she got up, crossing over and picking the envelope up from her windowsill. The paper was smooth, the way weathered paper is, as if it existed for many years before being used. Carefully, the girl traced her finger around the wax. It was soft, as if it had been freshly stamped. Plucking her fingers underneath the paper, she opened it, pulling out a slightly newer, although still tinted yellow, piece of paper.
My Dearest Basil,
I cannot describe to you the pure, unadulterated joy I feel in being able to finally get this letter to you. Elation, I tell you. You’ve just gotten so very big over the years, I could hardly recognize you when I saw you yesterday! I humbly apologize for not being able to watch over you the past four years, my responsibilities have taken up all of my time. Still, it is absolutely amazing how much you’ve grown in such a short amount of time!
I understand if you do not remember me- your young mind is prone to forgetfulness, and I completely acknowledge that. Regardless, I would love for you to come visit me! Please, for my sake, come visit me tomorrow at dusk! I should have everything prepared by then.You know where to find me; just go to the cul-de-sac on Visaar Circle, past the metal gate. Hopefully, once you’re there, it will spark your memory. Just follow the trail!
Oh, and please don’t mind the warnings of those petty adults. The forest is kind to me, and it will be kinder to you, my child. The grown-ups of Clairesbrook just fear losing their children to the magic and wonder of the thicket. I’ve already alerted the others- I understand that you’ve grown apart over the years, and I pray you haven’t forgotten your bond. Expect to meet with each other at Visaar Circle, tomorrow evening! I am excitedly awaiting your arrival.
Yours, truly and lovingly,
F.
Basil's lips turned into a tiny, tiny frown, as she stared at the paper in a state of perplexity. F? She thought back as hard as she could. Fiona, from gym class..? No, she had just transferred last summer. Hell, Basil doubted the girl even knew her name. Florian? No, she'd never even spoken to him.
She crossed over to her bed, completely dismissing her computer, and sat down, the paper still held in her hand. The forest was forbidden. Everyone knew that. So why did F, whoever they were, want her to go there? Was she going to be murdered? And who were "the others"?
C'mon, Basil, it was probably just a prank. Just throw the paper away and ignore it...
...June 12th, 1992. Friday evening, just as the sun was setting.
Basil stood on the street across from Visaar Circle, the letter in her hand. She bit her inner cheek, her thumb running along the paper as she tried to calm her jitters. So much for ignoring it. Part of her wished this part of town wasn't abandoned; maybe if there had been someone around, maybe a concerned neighbor, they could've convinced her otherwise. But there was nobody around, nobody but her. Anxiously, she checked her watch. It was 6:32. In half an hour her parents would realize her absence. In an hour or so, they'd call the police. God, what was she thinking? She couldn't just meet someone in the woods because a letter told her to...!
No. She thought to herself, firmly, as if trying to convince herself. If you don't do this, you'll never know what it meant, who F is, or who the others are. You'll be back before 7:00.
Reluctantly, she crossed the street, tightening her hand on her bag. Part of her was relieved she carried the little backpack everywhere; in it, she had a few pens, a granola bar, pepper spray, and her house keys. All a girl could need. It helped in times like this, she realized, to have something weighing on her. It occurred to her that maybe it was a sense of security. Was she pathetic? Maybe.
Now's not the time for this! Just... sit down, and wait for 'the others'. Whoever they are.
Nervously, Basil sat promptly down in the middle of the cul-de-sac, facing the street. She could feel the forest behind her, an ominous presence she felt guilty even acknowledging. It felt like eyes were watching her, and that metal gate was whispering her name. She shook her head violently, trying to disperse the thoughts, and grabbed the pepper spray from her bag. She held it in her one hand, hidden behind her leg, and in the other, she held the letter, still crumpled slightly from when she was debating throwing it away.
And there, on Visaar Circle, Basil sat and waited.
June 11th, 1992. The day had been warm.
Basil Mendoza pondered on this fact for a moment, shrugging her bag over her shoulder. The day had been warm, but not insufferably hot; no, Clairesbrook didn't often get hot. Now that they were approaching the evening, a cool breeze ran through the air, yet it wasn't an unpleasant one. The weather seemed, for a lack of better words, perfect. She'd been able to enjoy a little picnic with a friend.
She entered her house with a lazy greeting to her parents, who returned it with as little fervor as she shouted it. Basil was never particularly close with her parents, but did have a decent relationship with her little brother. Still, though, Atticus Mendoza could be quite bothersome. With the thought of what really made "perfect" weather still lingering in her mind, she tossed her bag onto her bed, sliding into the chair at her desk and booting up her computer. While she waited for it to boot up (yes, waited,) she drummed her fingers along her desk, humming some obscure tune she couldn't put a name on. She was just about to open Instant Messenger when a fleck of dark green caught her attention from her peripheral- she turned towards her window, her gaze landing on a creamy, yellow envelope with a crest, a beautiful shade of forest green.
Furrowing her brow, she got up, crossing over and picking the envelope up from her windowsill. The paper was smooth, the way weathered paper is, as if it existed for many years before being used. Carefully, the girl traced her finger around the wax. It was soft, as if it had been freshly stamped. Plucking her fingers underneath the paper, she opened it, pulling out a slightly newer, although still tinted yellow, piece of paper.
My Dearest Basil,
I cannot describe to you the pure, unadulterated joy I feel in being able to finally get this letter to you. Elation, I tell you. You’ve just gotten so very big over the years, I could hardly recognize you when I saw you yesterday! I humbly apologize for not being able to watch over you the past four years, my responsibilities have taken up all of my time. Still, it is absolutely amazing how much you’ve grown in such a short amount of time!
I understand if you do not remember me- your young mind is prone to forgetfulness, and I completely acknowledge that. Regardless, I would love for you to come visit me! Please, for my sake, come visit me tomorrow at dusk! I should have everything prepared by then.You know where to find me; just go to the cul-de-sac on Visaar Circle, past the metal gate. Hopefully, once you’re there, it will spark your memory. Just follow the trail!
Oh, and please don’t mind the warnings of those petty adults. The forest is kind to me, and it will be kinder to you, my child. The grown-ups of Clairesbrook just fear losing their children to the magic and wonder of the thicket. I’ve already alerted the others- I understand that you’ve grown apart over the years, and I pray you haven’t forgotten your bond. Expect to meet with each other at Visaar Circle, tomorrow evening! I am excitedly awaiting your arrival.
Yours, truly and lovingly,
F.
Basil's lips turned into a tiny, tiny frown, as she stared at the paper in a state of perplexity. F? She thought back as hard as she could. Fiona, from gym class..? No, she had just transferred last summer. Hell, Basil doubted the girl even knew her name. Florian? No, she'd never even spoken to him.
She crossed over to her bed, completely dismissing her computer, and sat down, the paper still held in her hand. The forest was forbidden. Everyone knew that. So why did F, whoever they were, want her to go there? Was she going to be murdered? And who were "the others"?
C'mon, Basil, it was probably just a prank. Just throw the paper away and ignore it...
...June 12th, 1992. Friday evening, just as the sun was setting.
Basil stood on the street across from Visaar Circle, the letter in her hand. She bit her inner cheek, her thumb running along the paper as she tried to calm her jitters. So much for ignoring it. Part of her wished this part of town wasn't abandoned; maybe if there had been someone around, maybe a concerned neighbor, they could've convinced her otherwise. But there was nobody around, nobody but her. Anxiously, she checked her watch. It was 6:32. In half an hour her parents would realize her absence. In an hour or so, they'd call the police. God, what was she thinking? She couldn't just meet someone in the woods because a letter told her to...!
No. She thought to herself, firmly, as if trying to convince herself. If you don't do this, you'll never know what it meant, who F is, or who the others are. You'll be back before 7:00.
Reluctantly, she crossed the street, tightening her hand on her bag. Part of her was relieved she carried the little backpack everywhere; in it, she had a few pens, a granola bar, pepper spray, and her house keys. All a girl could need. It helped in times like this, she realized, to have something weighing on her. It occurred to her that maybe it was a sense of security. Was she pathetic? Maybe.
Now's not the time for this! Just... sit down, and wait for 'the others'. Whoever they are.
Nervously, Basil sat promptly down in the middle of the cul-de-sac, facing the street. She could feel the forest behind her, an ominous presence she felt guilty even acknowledging. It felt like eyes were watching her, and that metal gate was whispering her name. She shook her head violently, trying to disperse the thoughts, and grabbed the pepper spray from her bag. She held it in her one hand, hidden behind her leg, and in the other, she held the letter, still crumpled slightly from when she was debating throwing it away.
And there, on Visaar Circle, Basil sat and waited.
