The challenge: respond to the prompt (The Treehouse), write less than a thousand words, and NO EDITS allowed.
So, here is my flash for today…
The Treehouse
Boys were the worst of the worst of the worstest creatures in the world. Timmy and Tommy had yanked up the ladder despite her cries, or her foot stomping. They had left her with balled up fists, tight burning balls of fire, which would blacken each of their eyes once they came down from the tree.
Maybe she should kick them in the balls? They certainly talked about their blue balls often enough, whatever that meant. How something like that could turn blue she had no idea. The pictures in health class always showed that particular skin the same color as the rest of the body. Did their weenies turn blue too? They didn’t use that word anymore, but she wasn’t about to say the other one they seemed so fond of tormenting her with.
Boys were so stupid.
She wasn’t supposed to call Tim ‘Timmy' anymore, and even her brother Tommy, demanded the rougher sounding ‘Tom', cutting away her favorite part of him. He used to be her best friend, now Tom had turned into a beast taking Tim with him into that horrible descent of monster-dom.
Screaming her frustration served no purpose. Not only had they pulled up the rope ladder and closed the trapdoor, but they’d slammed the shutters on the two windows, windows she had insisted they put in. Windows she had cut out and sanded, and sweated over. The one at the front of the tree even had her very own blood seeped into the wood, and she had a scar to prove it.
That treehouse belonged to her. Timmy and Tommy had no business kicking her out.
For ten minutes she stomped around the base of the tree, circling the trunk looking for a way up. There wasn’t. That’s why they built in this tree. No marauding adults could invade the sacred space.
They’d spent so many nights in the tree, the three of them, running down batteries in their flashlights until only the light of the moon spilled in with its bluish glow. In the summer they slept on top of their sleeping bags. In the Fall, they slipped inside the fluffy down, and when Winter came, they found a way to zip all three bags into one big cocoon. As the girl, they made her sleep in the middle, but their tangle of limbs made the chilly nights plenty warm, and the roof kept out the snow.
Everything had been fine until the start of this school year. Two years younger, she was still stuck in fifth grade while her best friends moved to Junior High. Tom said they were growing up—him and Tim—and she was still a baby. He said she wouldn’t understand the things they cared about. But he was wrong. Nothing had changed, except they weren’t very good best friends anymore.
And something was up with Tim. His friendly smiles dried up, and he refused to wrestle with her anymore, saying he was getting bigger and would only hurt her. That was a lie. Yes, he was taller than her now, and maybe his arms reached further than before, but she could still pin him to the mat.
But, he looked at her differently, and Tom would punch him real hard when that happened.
Whatever was up with them, it needed to stop, and despite what they said, she hadn’t changed one bit.
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