Today, I'm going to try something a little different. This is a short story (a very short story) based on the photo below. I hope you like it, and if you don't - cut me some slack, I'm being creative. All right. Enjoy!
It was so unexpected, nestled there amidst the branches. Such a pretty, ornate little bird house, resting, not by accident (for surely it was very carefully placed), in the middle of the uninhabited wilderness.
I'd almost missed it, hidden as it was in the trees, far from the beaten path. If I hadn't had my camera raised, attempting to capture the light filtering through the branches, I never would have seen it. But I did. And so, I paused, forgetting my nature walk, and crept forward, stepping off the trail and plunging into the trees. Going further and further, until my face was only inches away from the pretty, little house.
It was perfectly quaint and ever so tiny, finished with exquisite attention to detail. There were even two colorful little chairs sitting on the tiny covered deck, as though at any moment some Lilliputian figure would plop down and put their feet up. And on the door was the tiniest little note, no bigger than the size of the fingernail on my pinky finger, with delicate, scrawling print, which read:
Back soon. Help yourself!
Next to the door sat a teeny tiny bowl of itty bitty berries, perfectly red and gleaming.
I pulled the note from the door and helped myself to one of the microscopic orbs, praying that the occupant wouldn't mind that I'd liberated their note. I tucked it carefully inside my notebook and made my way back to the trail, stopping just for a moment to place the minuscule berry on the tip of my tongue. It dissolved in an instant, soft and sweet but entirely real.
I've never told anyone about the little house in the trees, never showed anyone the tiny, handwritten note. Instead, I move every few years, before anyone can notice that I haven't aged a day.
There are some secrets that are just too complicated to explain.