Regret ○ by insilico
And the birds, they cry to the stars while my eyes fade to black.
We were lodging at Elly’s parent’s cabin – we being me, Elly, Gabe, his girlfriend Charice, and my two best friends, Amelia and Adrian – and it was the first time we were all bunking together without the excess burden of parental supervision. One could say that the feeling shared by all of us was complete and utter relief from the freedom of weight on our shoulders – and with it, came the ecstasy of having two weeks of peaceful enjoyment. The cabin was luxurious for six suburban teenagers out under the boughs of the forest; three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a large kitchen, and a living room all fully furnished and assaulted by sighs and cheers of absolute glee. The centerpiece, of course, was the fridge, completely packed with food to sup and voraciously gorge on thanks in part to the help of Elly’s parents. Along with our complete liberation from the outside world and the paradise that accompanied it, we were absolutely free of plans as well, deciding to take the lucrative route of “winging it.” It was damn refreshing.
The forest was relief for me. She was like a foster sister that protected me from the world I came from; singing me lullabies filled with sweet chirps, deep hoots, and insistent chatter; shading me from the violent, beating hand of an abusive sun. It was from her that I found serenity in the turmoil of my life that was edging me over a cliff, a Siren calling, enticing me to jump into the crashing, blue waves of insanity. This was what I had wanted, what I had longed for ever since Elly excitedly proposed the idea.
In the small clearing where the cabin resided, the breeze flowed freely through the porch where I sat. It danced along the wooden fencing, slowly whispering its sweet voice into my ear while cool hands enticed my skin. It was day three of our trip, and we were all comfortably situated with our small temporal abode. The day was still young and the sun kept its adamant presence, a silent sentinel raining down its warmth. Intermixed with the constant tease of the playful wind, the atmosphere was perfect for the obligatory mountain hike. It was cliché, of course, but still someone had proposed it and with the majority, brimming with the cumulated energy of the last two days, shouting in agreement, all I could do was trudge along. It was either trekking the wilderness with companions or be left alone trapped within the confines of my own mind. I chose the former; besides, it gave me much desired time with Amelia, regardless of the others’ presence. Seven years of friendship, a year of flirting, and a day of awkwardness when she denied my offer to be together and I was still obsessed with her. She was a health and fitness freak with a fetish for running so this hike was like a much needed fix to an addict and I, with the brain embedded in my groin, followed her like a lost puppy. Sue me; she looked absolutely astounding and, sewn together into the fabric of the picturesque scenery, she was my Artemis and I stood there, gaping; her voyeuristic Actaeon. Yes, I was glad I brought my camera.