| The Forgotten Once upon a time, in a land not so far away, where the utopian realm of make-believe did not prosper, an ear splitting scream rang throughout the air. Memories of a time better forgotten drained slowly through Abigail Windheart�s mind as she sat, bolt upright, in her tiny bed in the attic. Wide eyes wandered the room, searching out the details and textures of her surroundings, hoping for all to be well. She had not yet finished her search when in bound both of her parents, also wide eyed, wondering whatever could be the matter with their precious daughter. Abi was not alone. Not anymore� ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ There is a small town that holds a small post office, and a small store, and even a small square, all filled with small-minded people to shop and go about their business in their own small world. However, on occasion, extraordinary things do happen to these oh-so-ordinary people. James Scapethorne had just barely turned fourteen, and was already making plans to escape the small town of Baleysville. He�d recently received word that his father, who now resided less than three hours drive away, would be passing through Baleysville on his way to Oklahoma on Saturday or Sunday. Less than two days away. He�d written to his father numerous times, begging to see him and telling him how much he loved him. Even though he hadn�t gotten a reply yet, James was almost certain that his father wouldn�t pass through town without stopping to say hello. The excited young boy picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number as fast as he could. A groggy male voice answered the phone, �Hello?� James�s cheeks reddened slightly. �Whoops� wrong number, sorry.� The grumpy man replied, more to himself than to the voice on the phone, �Damn kids. Never know when to quit.� The line went dead. James shrugged to himself and hung up the phone, picking it up once more to dial again, �Hello?� this time James couldn�t help but smile, hearing Abi�s voice always did that to him. �Abi� why are you asleep? It�s my birthday. No one is supposed to sleep on my birthday.� The female was quiet for a moment and James could tell that she was checking her clock. Finally, she answered, �JJ, it is four thirty in the morning. I don�t care whose birthday it is, at four thirty in the morning, I sleep.� The line went dead yet again. James laughed to himself, clicked the ringer, and hit redial. The line picked up, but this time, it was his turn to speak first. �Abi, you�re the most wonderful person in the world right now if you will just listen to me for a second. I�ve made up my mind. As soon as dad stops by, I�m going to jump in the truck and demand to go with him. I don�t care what Aunt Betsy says, I�m leaving.� Abi sighed loudly, �Well that�s great news, J. Send me a postcard when you get there. Now can I please go back to sleep?� he shook his head, even though he knew she couldn�t see it. �No. You have to wish me a happy birthday.� �But your birthday isn�t until tomorrow.� �Not anymore. I turned fourteen as of three minutes ago. The amount of time it took for you to answer the phone, I�d guess.� James grinned wide. He loved being precise. And the fact that it annoyed Abi just made it even more fun. �Whatever. Happy birthday. Goodnight.� He smiled in triumph. �Thank you. Goodnight, Abi.� The ringer went dead once more and James finally put the phone down and stretched out on his bed. He tucked his arms neatly behind his head and closed his eyes, his mind whirring with excitement. He lay there for almost eight whole minutes before jumping up out of bed and racing to his desk. Pulling out a small, black, leather-covered journal, the teen picked up his pen and immediately began to write on the first available page. -4:37 A.M., Thursday, July 18th, 2000. I am now officially 14 years and 12 minutes old. Abi was the first person to wish me a happy birthday. You can be the second. I doubt Uncle Ray and Aunt Betsy will remember, so you might be the last, but that�s all right. William, over at the trucking company, said that dad was supposed to be stopping by on Saturday or Sunday. When he does, I�m going with him. That�s right, I�m getting out of this town. I am so sick of all these people. I wonder what he looks like now. Maybe he�s got a beard and mustache. Maybe I�ll grow one like that when I get older. Jessie up at school told me that I looked like an elf with pimples today. She�s one to talk. She�s got a zit on her forehead the size of Brazil. Anyways, it�s getting late. I�ll write more tomorrow. I can�t wait till dad gets here!- ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ |