CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "I returned to the treehouse from my childhood" Creepypasta

Episode Date: February 27, 2022

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by Darkly_Gathers: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comm...Creepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether you believe these scary stories to be true or not is left to your own discretion and imagination. LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO-SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd...iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast...SUGGESTED CREEPYPASTA PLAYLISTS-►"Good Places to Start"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7YCb...►"Personal Favourites"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEa2R...►"Written by me"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gX6RA...►"Long Stories"- https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list...FOLLOW ME ON-►Twitter: https://twitter.com/Creeps_McPasta►Instagram: https://instagram.com/creepsmcpasta/►Twitch: http://www.twitch.tv/creepsmcpasta►Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CreepsMcPastaCREEPYPASTA MUSIC/ SFX- ►http://bit.ly/Audionic ♪►http://bit.ly/Myuusic ♪►http://bit.ly/incompt ♪►http://bit.ly/EpidemicM ♪-This creepypasta is for entertainment purposes only-

Picture this scene, if you will. Place yourself in my shoes. I stand alone. The surrounding fields are vast and sparse. Oceans of sickly yellow grey grass ripple in the breeze. Waves roll across them and out over the gentle hills, shimmering towards the horizon in all directions. It comes up to about knee height, this grass, and there is little else.

Above the rolling grass is the evening sky, grey, tinted, with purple, and his clouds are dark and cold as they rumble slowly by overhead. My bike rests against a section of broken fence just behind me, thus swirls about my shoes. I'm still wearing my work clothes. My tie blows out to the side, and I make no effort to try and straighten it. It's cold, but I do not shiver. And ahead, about 20 or so paces into the field and fixed in the sense. of my vision, stands the tree. Like myself, it is alone.

It towers up above, the trunk twisting slightly around before branching out in all directions. The leaves are thick, and they rustle and shine. The rungs that my friends and I once hammered into the side still there, though many are in the process of being absorbed and swallowed by the expanding trunk. The treehouse itself, if any part of it, has survived all these years, is hidden. I reach into my pocket and withdraw the note I've stashed there, the contract, and I read it over.

I hear by promise that if we are both unmarried by our 30th birthday, then we shall marry each other. This is a binding contract. The agreement and ceremony will take place beneath the treehouse at 7 p.m. on the day of our birthday. Signed, Thomas Evans, Lauren Bright. Lauren and I have the same birthday you see It was always a running joke that we would get married

We made and signed this note when we turned 11 And today is my 30th birthday Our 30th birthday So I guess I'm here to fulfill my end of the deal I folded the paper up and returned it to my pocket And with a sad sigh I pushed forward making my way through the grass as I approach the great tree. The wind blows in my ears.

There are a series of hearts carved into the trunk, hearts that have survived the years. Some are cruder than others, but there must be about a dozen in total. I count them. Yes, a dozen hearts. They're all ancient. You can tell just by looking at them.

Most of them have initials inside. S plus R, J plus J, etc. But one of these hearts only has a single initial inside. It reads L plus. This was our heart. I never did add my own initial. I was too shy, too self-conscious. I played along with all the marriage jokes, sure.

I signed the contract, but the carving of this heart was too much, too personal, too real. and so my 11-year-old self laughed the moment away, acutely aware of the hurt in Lawrence expression, but pretending not to notice. I waver where I stand. Perhaps coming here tonight was a mistake. I'm not okay, I'm not okay. I always knew this day was going to be difficult. I don't really know why I came here, to be honest.

Maybe for some hope at closure, I guess, for something. I've long since given up on a normal life My memories haunt me And I dare say they always will I look back up to the treetop The greenish rungs of the ladder disappear into a cloud of leaves overhead I close my eyes as the breeze blows past my skin

I remember my little group of friends The five of us We would cycle here all the time Back when our houses were all within distance I live across the country now but it's nice to know that the tree still stands. I remember the adventures we used to have, the ideas and plans we'd plot right here in this tree house,

the games we'd run and the stories we'd make up together. Lauren and myself, Jake, Jasmine and Wully. All gone now, of course. All dead. All, except for myself. Our time together runs like a river through my head. I see myself with them all. I see our greatest shared memories.

I remember the construction of this tree house. We didn't have the internet to guide us back then, so we copied instructions from an old magazine. I remember Jake hammering into one of his fingers and using a swear word we hadn't heard before. We thought we were going to get in trouble when a farmer rolled by in his loud and angry tractor, so we heard ourselves up in the leaves,

giggling quietly and pretending to shone. shoot it as he passed us by. The memory blurs into the next. I remember our school trip to the City's Science Museum. It was themed around the four classical elements, fire, water, earth and air. The teachers allowed us to work as a group, and we explored that place from top to bottom. Different godded flames reacting to various metals, huge water cylinders and cyclone displays. There was an earthquake simulator, I remember.

Jasmine was terrified, but I convinced her to join us. There was a wind tunnel and miniature lightning. The memory drifts into another. We're standing in front of the school, the night of the summer performance. We're all terrified, of course. Beneath the watchful eyes, everyone is watching us, judging us. I remember stumbling one of my lines, faltering, but Wally was on stage two.

He kept us going without skipping a beat. I don't think anyone even noticed. And once he was over, the elation, the celebration, we never felt so powerful. I remember our first trip abroad. Lawrence parents allowed us all to join them. We were so lucky, visiting a foreign country together and at so young an age.

There was a water park there. It was incredible. We got shouted out by some lifeguard, but of course we couldn't understand a word he was saying, so we simply ran away, laughing and splashing. And I remember the night of November 5th. Bonfire night, the fireworks exploding overhead, red and green and gold, the warmth of the great burning bonfire and the drifting embers. Jake and Jasmine and Woolley firing off sparklers,

and once it was over that night back at Jake's house that's where Lauren and I had our first kiss our only kiss as it happened the memories sting I open my eyes and I wipe a hand across them the leaves rustle in the rising wind and the waves roll out across the grass

I cannot change the past I reach into my other pocket and I draw from it a small carving knife. Stepping a little closer to the tree, I rest one hand on the cool, rough bark, and with the other, I finish the decades-old inscription. I complete it, the way it was always meant to be completed. I cut away at the wood until the heart reads,

L plus T. Then I sheath the blade and step back. I'm not some deranged lunatic, by the way, just for your own peace of mind. I'm not some grown man in love with a ghost. I loved Lauren, sure, but in the same way that I loved the others, that I loved all of them. I just could have done better by her back then, that's all. And this carving is as much an apology to her as it is a favour to my 11-year-old self. I'm sorry, Lauren.

I say, my words quickly disappearing into the wild. I'm sorry for the heartache I caused you. I reached into my pocket for another lock of the note. My hand trembles and I collapse to my knees, stricken with a deep and sudden ache, a pain in my heart that is kindled across the ears. I'm sorry, I force out. I'm so, so sorry. What are you sorry for, stupid?

Comes a voice. a voice that I would recognize at the ends of the earth My sorrow is shocked to oblivion As I snap my head up to look at the voice's source Above me in the tree And peeking through the leaves Is Lauren I stare up at her

Terrified and unable to move Lauren? I manage at last Choking in my words She looks just as she did still wearing that same pink hoodie. She kicks her legs idly against the trunk, watching me expectantly. Well, she says, sticking her tongue out,

are you coming or not? And she suddenly lifts up her arms, grabbing something out of sight and hoisting herself into the leaves, vanishing with a rustle. Wait, I scream, throwing out a hand. And before I know it, I'm scrambling up the tree behind her.

My foot slips off the second wrong, Too much of it has been swallowed by the trunk. I try again, forearm strained as I grab to what I can, hauling myself up the side of the mighty tree, heart racing. I'm losing my mind, I think, as the wind bows against me. I'm losing my mind. But I don't stop climbing. Up I go, ascending into the leaves. But the ladder keeps going.

I lock all around through the branches, but all I can see. But all I can see is a world of rustling green. Lauren? I shout out desperately. Wait, where are you? I hear her giggles up ahead. I cram my neck to see it disappear through another cluster of leaves. So up I climb. Higher and higher through this ancient tree.

We never built it this high. We couldn't have. We were just kids. But it certainly feels high now as I forced my way up. I glanced below. but I cannot see the bottom anymore. I'm fully enveloped in the green of the tree. Twigs snap against my arms,

against my face as I keep pushing through, until at last the ladder comes to an end. I hold myself up onto the platform and, catching my breath, I look all around. Our treehouse had always been impressive. We worked hard on it, and it was a real labour of love. But this, this is something else.

The platform I find myself on is colossal. Leaves and branches wind their way around the wooden pillars and arches. I stare in bewilderment at rope bridges, extending away through an impossible treetop canopy, onto other platforms and levels in the leaves. On the opposite wall, where I remember carving my name along with the others, where I remember five, not quite in line names, scrolled in quick letters, there are now only works of art.

The names are there, sure, but they are intricate, carved with care, beautiful and dramatic. They'd be better placed in a museum or a cathedral. But my eyes are drawn now to the owners of these names. Because there they stand, all around me, just as I remember them. Jake, Jasmine, Wully. and Lauren Jake has his arms crossed an eyebrow raised

Jasmine has her hands behind her back Wally has his thumbs hooked into the straps of his backpack and Lauren has her hands on her hips What took you so long Tommy she asked

I fumble for words stuttering and spluttering as she laughs Wally holds out her hand to me We've been waiting for you bro he says with a grin Guys, I begin, how did... But Jasmine interrupts. There'll be time for questions later, Tommy.

We need you. You need me? Wully's hand is still extended towards mine. He waves it. Of course we do, Tommy. The tree house is under attack. Now, come on, soldier. Get up.

I reach for his hand, and I realize they're the same size. My hand and Wollies. He grips tight. and pulls me up to my feet, and I find that we are all the same height. I look down. My shirt, tie, my work shoes, all replaced with the clothes I wore as a kid. My battered jeans with a hole in the knee, my blue jacket. I don't understand, I whisper, looking between their faces.

The faces of my ghosts. What more is there to understand? Lauren asks, reaching out and squeezing my arm. This is our tree house Tommy and we will let the enemy take it from us. A grin spreads out across a face. Come on.

And with that, she leads us away through one of the arches. Wully follows, raising his fist with a battle cry and Jake and Jasmine follow. Jasmine looks back at me. Tommy, come on! And so I do.

I stumble on after them and together we run through the treetop complex. Beneath arches and over the bridges, the wood clacking as we race from platform to platform. We reach a series of platforms at various heights, all within sight of each other. There are wooden weapons here. We'd always talked about constructing things like this,

but we never got around to it. One looks like an enormous catapult. Looking down to my right, there is what appears to be a massive rifle. It wouldn't, of course, so I don't know what it fires. And there are gaps in the leaves there too. They show us the endless fields beyond. Though they are green now, green streaked with gold from the light through the clouds.

To your stations, men, while he suddenly shouts, and women. The others salute him, and I feel compelled to do likewise. Fix up those weapons and defend the treehouse. The first wave will be the farmer. He comes from below. Those are your orders. sir, yes sir, we say. I find myself chanting it along with the others,

unable to hold back a sudden rush revelation. We run to the various platforms. Mine has one of the wooden rifles on it, but it isn't quite complete. I watch as the others hurriedly fix up their own stations, passing each other's tools and lifting planks of wood over their heads. Tommy? Jake shouts at me, and I turn to him just in time to catch a wooden wheel he is to throw.

throne, recently carved. I furrow my brow and looked to my weapon, realizing at once where this next piece has to go. I attach it in place and move aside some of the wooden boards, angling one, so as to rest the barrel of the weapon upon it, for a more sure aim, of course. Damn it, Jake shouts suddenly, and we turned to him. The idiot has managed to smack himself in the thumb by the looks of it. We laugh, but Jasmine checks that he's all right. I'm fine, I'm fine, he says

Get back to your station, the enemy approaches And the enemy approaches, indeed Here we go My adrenaline surges as a monster rises up from behind the hills A tractor perhaps, I think at first But no, it's a behemoth of metal and smoke Juntering and growling as it roars to the field towards us Two sizzling yellow eyes, glowing in the dusk, stare right at us up here in the tree.

Fire at will, while he commands, and the weapons are launched. What is happening? A voice asks me inside my head. Thomas, what are you doing? But I ignore it. There are more important matters at hand. With one eye closed, carefully aiming, I pulled the wooden trigger on the rifle. I feel a surge of recoil as the weapon thunders out a beam of light, like a laser directly towards the oncoming metal monster.

I feel the blast of the heat against my face. My hair is blown back from my forehead. Whoa! I shout out loud as the beam blasts into the side of the rumbling machine. I hear the cheers of my friends as their own weapons are launched. Further blasts and beams, I fire again. The tree house shakes and the monster roars. Great black clouds are sent up from the machinery of its body

As it stumbles and staggers And at last, defeated, it alters its course The rumble of the gaze is loud in our ears As it turns aside, fleeing the scene Trundling away across the fields And out of sight I laugh with elation But there is no time now to revel in this victory

Lauren has grabbed my sleeve Come on! She shouts dragging me from my station. What, what is it? I respond, breathlessly. That was only the first wave, Tommy. Wally calls from the front of the procession, and we can't do this without you. So, on we race, across first one bridge, and then the next, and this second bridge is far, far longer than the others. It stretches over a great yawning chasm of leaves and branches. It swings and creaks in the wind, and it's a long, long way down. The group falters.

I can't do this, Jasmine mutters, paled and shaking ahead at the bridge's beginning. I can't do it. Yes, you can, I find myself saying, looking into a face, reassuring her with my expression, nothing can stop you, you've got this. She bites a lip, and then she nods, and we sit out together across the bridge. The second we've all stepped foot onto it, however, that's when the storm begins. Like we're in a wind tunnel almost Hold on

Wally roars above the rising gale His trademark woolly jacket trying to escape from his shoulders The storm brings with it streaks of pocket lightning All around us are crackling in the air The lightning flashes against the leaves Bursts of different coloured flames leap up all around us We run the length of the swinging bridge Fire, water, air

It becomes harder to see, but the others are all still there. Hang tight, Lauren cries out, gripping to the side of the bridge and turning away from a sudden cyclonic barrel of rain, blasting around us and drenching us through. The trees rumble and the bridge shakes. Beset by tremors, it feels like it could collapse at any moment. Keep pressing forward, Jake shouts, and we do. The group continues its advance.

through the elements, huddled together. And there, through the water and storm, is the opposite side, the next platform. Wally steps off first and helps us all onto it, and we leave the thunder behind us as we start to push through the leaves. Pushing through, deeper and deeper into the canopy as the noise of the storm begins to fade behind us. You guys still there?

Jasmine calls out as he grows darker and darker. we're all still here, follow my voice, Wally replies, and we continue to push aside the walls of leaves heading further and further into the treehouse. Until suddenly, the leaves all clear. We stumble out as five, still immersed in darkness,

and are breathing echoes around the space. The sounds of the storm are distant now, a faint backing rumble. A beat passes. And the rumble rises into a round of applause. It's wave three, it's a trap! Jake exclaims as lights appear before us. Great mechanical thuds and judders as they blink into life,

blinking and bright and burning. I can feel their heat against my skin. I can feel it drying the rain from my clothes. We are standing on a wooden stage. The light before us multiply into dozens, then into hundreds hundreds of pairs of glowing eyes watching, judging,

judging, staring to the darkness all around beneath the watchful eyes just like before all those years ago this is how it felt I can feel my throat start to close up I can feel the panic rising

I cannot remember what to say there was something I need to say to defeat these intruders but what is it but what are my words? Wally steps forward, unaffected like the rest of us by this spell, this twisted enchantment. This tree house is ours, not yours.

You'll never take it from us. Here? You'll never truly take it, for we'll never truly leave. He looks back to me, his eyes fierce in the reflections of the light. Right, Tommy, isn't that right? And he is.

He is right. I say so out loud. I join my words to his. This is our place. I cry out, defiant. This is our home and this magic. This magic is ours and you are not welcome. The eyes widen and rage.

The heat increases, but only for the briefest moments. I shield my face, but watch as the eyes retreat. As one by one they disappear back into the darkness as the cool of the air returns. and already my friends have begun to move onwards to the next platform. The final traces of lights from the eyes have revealed the door in the wooden wall to our right, a passageway through the treetop. Jasmine pauses at the entrance to this passage and looks back at me.

Come on, Tommy, we can't go on without you. I nod, determined to drive on. I reach out for her and she pulls me through the passage. We stumble for a minute in the dark Until at last the shadows disperse And we are once again surrounded by the deep Dark, fresh green of the treehouse leaves and branches Ahead are a series of platforms

Built into these platforms I will look like tunnels in the wood They look almost like slides I slip and stumble where I stand Glancing down reveals that water has begun to rush past our feet. The scent of chlorine rises thick into the surrounding air. Step carefully, Lauren warns as Jake slips over in the rushing stream. Willie grabs him by the collar and hauls him back up before he falls.

How's this possible? How is any of this possible? I murmur out loud, grabbing onto a branch as the water flows past us. It pours from the platforms and between the branches. Some of it rushes across the wood and down the tunnel-like slides ahead. What are you talking about? Wally replies, grinning. The tree house is under attack, Tommy, weren't you listening? And with this, his eyes widen, his mouth drops open as he stares behind me, past my shoulder. The others do the same, and I swivel where I stand, still holding onto the branch for support.

A monster approaches. Pushing aside the branches, he has the stoop as he is too tall. with every step he kicks up great splashes and waves from the running water his eyes are like red coals in the gloom his limbs are long much longer than they should be and a shining silver whistle hangs from his neck on a chain it clinks with every one of his great and heavy footsteps the platforms rattle and the water is sent rushing in all directions he turns to us bellowing bellowing loud in a foreign tongue and he increases his pace charging right towards us

quickly Lauren shouts down into the tunnel she grabs me and hauls me back and we support each other as we run and splash through the stream

careful not to slip ducking beneath branches as we hear them snap behind us go go go while he shouts with the mad laugh urging us down into the slide Lauren goes first and then Jasmine and Jake

I shoot one last look behind me as I leap into the tunnel. And I see the monster slip and stumble in the rushing water. He roars and crashes down hard with a rumble, vanishing out of sight as the slide turns a sharp, sudden corner. Wully is not far behind. I see him laughing and whooping, the water rushing past. I turn to look the way I'm going, picking up speed as the tunnel and the water shoot past.

There he, the echoing laughs of the others reversed. vibrate around me, building to shouts of triumph as a slide ends with a great and torrential splash. Jake pushes his fringe out of his eyes and raises his hand for a high-five. I meet it and grin as he helps me up. Lauren runs over, laughing, shouting and pulling me quickly out of the way as Wally zooms down just behind me, splashing us all yet again. We spend the next few minutes just screwing around, splashing in the water as a leaf. leaves Russell softly in the breeze.

Lauren at last draws back and looks down at a watch. The level of light has changed. She's highlighted in beams of silver that have broken through the branches. We all are. It'll be time now, guys, she says, looking around. We did it. Woolly stands suddenly to attention, bringing his hand up to a salute. We all do likewise.

Stand down, men. And, uh, women. Mission accomplished. Sir, yes, sir, we respond, and he turns, pushing aside some leaves to reveal a ladder, moss-lined, but in otherwise great condition. Up he goes, wrong by wrong, clambering up through the tree. Then Jake, then Jasmine, then Lauren.

She looks down to make sure that I'm following. Time for the big finale, Tommy. Yes, I reply, right behind you. And I put my hands up onto the ladder and begin to climb. Up we go, us five, through the treehouse, higher and higher. The light filters through where it can, illuminating the tips and the edges of the leaves in that glorious shining silver. Higher and higher, until we break through the very top of the tree itself.

I breathe in a deep breath of free. fresh night air and look up to the sky, feeling the natural breeze against my skin. There are perches up here, and bows are the tallest branches, natural seats and resting places, and the group spreads out, just a little, finding their places, settling in, breathing easy, and enjoying our victory. I take a seat next to Lauren. Lauren, I begin, what? Shh, she interrupts, smiling.

It's about to start. She turns to look up to the sky, and I do likewise. It is beautiful. The moon is bright, the stars glimmer, a shooting speck flits across my filter vision, and soon the stars are joined by great bursts of colour. Fireworks, of course, like I've never seen them before. Great dazzling, dreamlike explosions of red and green and gold. tipped with fiery orange or with shining silver like the leaves.

They whiz and spin and cascade like spirals within spirals. They are celebration incarnate. And you know, thinking about it, perhaps I have seen fireworks like this before. This is exactly how they appear to me, once upon a time. The warmth rushes over me, a familiar glow. Lauren reaches out for my hand and I take it. it in mine. The fireworks burst and shine. And just like that, I feel myself, start to cry.

I cannot stop it, and the tears flow. Lauren squeezes my hand just a little bit tighter. I'm sorry, I mutter, and then louder so that everyone can hear. I'm sorry, all of you. I'm so, so sorry. I wasn't there. I wasn't there for you. Things could have been different. They are beside me now, and I am sobbing. I remember it all. I remember why I came. The note, the marriage contract between Lauren and I, and I remember how they all died. These ghosts that now surround me. When we were 11 years old, we'd all signed up for a school trip in the winter. We were due to spend three nights at a campsite, a school excursion. fun, games, camping, expeditions, and all that good stuff.

But I knew how long felt about me by then. I was struggling with my own feelings. I was just a scared, dumb young kid. And I couldn't face it. I couldn't face the intimacy of almost four days together and so exciting an environment. And I knew the others would just egg me on and pressure me. So I faked being sick.

I faked an illness and convinced my parents to let me stay home. So that's what I did. I just stayed home because I didn't want to see my friends, because I didn't want to spend this trip with them, because I just didn't want to go. Well, they never ended up going either, as it turned out. The bus driver was not qualified. It was a parent volunteer,

a volunteer with little experienced driving in the snow, and I'll spare you the details. but as I sat playing video games in my living room the bus went through the rail on a cliffside it was a steep drop and half the passengers were killed amongst them were Jasmine Jake Wully and Lauren I should have been there I choked out looking between them

I wasn't even really sick I was just pretending I made it all up because I was a coward Woollie laughs and shakes his head You think we've never faked being sick before, bro. Jasmine squeezes my arm. Tommy, I did it all the time. I should have been with you.

We should have been together, I splutter. Jake crosses his arms as the fireworks explode overhead. And done what, Tommy? Stop the bus, driven us to safety. You grins. You were right where you're supposed to be. And we're glad for it. I turn to Lauren.

Lauren, I begin. But that's just the thing. Where to start? I draw the note from my pocket, the crumpled 20-year-old contract. It's still there and impossibly undamaged. I look from the note to Lauren. I have so much to say. How do I even begin to?

It's okay, Tommy. She replies gently, taking the contract from me. I know, and it's okay. She looks at the others. There is nothing for us to forgive, you know, but just for your sake, we forgive you, Tommy. I'll come back here, I tell them, and I mean it. I'll come back here all the time to the treehouse.

Lauren has pulled a marker from her pocket. She sticks a tongue out to one side as she starts writing something onto the note. The others look between themselves. No, Tommy, Jasmine replies with the... a sad smile. You won't. You can't come back here again. Not like this. This is it, bro, what he says quietly. It's been a ride. He reaches out his hand and I grasp it. Thanks for helping to defend this treehouse, Tommy, says Jake, for one last time. Lauren folds up the note and stuffs it back into my hand. She leans over and kisses me on the cheek.

It's time to say goodbye now, Tommy. She murmurs as the lights of the fireworks flicker above the treetop. Goodbye, I repeat, shaking my head. That's right, Tommy, she says, goodbye. And so, as the leaves shimmer with the stars and the breeze, beneath the glow and dance of the reds and greens and golds above, I say it, one last time. Goodbye, and

Happy birthday, Lauren. She smiles. Happy birthday, Tommy. It's been six months since then. I walk hand in hand with my partner down the track through the fields. The flowers are out in bloom, and the sky is a gorgeous crystal blue. That's it, there, I tell her, pointing over to the tree.

It's a little busier now than it was before. It still stands tall, rising up from the fresh green grasses all around, but it looks today far less alone. There are a gang of kids playing in it. A couple of cars are parked nearby. One of the cars is open, and planks of wood stick out from the back. A general murmur of voices forms her backing track to the kids, shouts and whops of glee.

Parents are chatting amongst themselves. A couple of dads are working on fixing up the treehouse ladder. One of them passes a plank up to a girl in the branches above. It's tough to tell from this distance, but it looks like there might be a couple new hearts carved into the treehouse's trunk. I think about the contract I made with Lauren 20 long years ago. I think about the addition she made. Once I tearfully descended the ladder their final time,

returned into my roughed-up work clothes at the base of the great trunk. I'd remembered the note and opened it up to read. This document is null and voided, she had added to the bottom. I, Lauren Bright, hereby, released Thomas Evans from this here contract. May he be free, and may he be happy, with a little heart. Hey, hello? I tuned back into my surroundings. I remember where I am.

My partner squeezed. My hand. Tom, what's up? She asks. You look like you are miles away. Are you okay? I consider. Yeah, I reply.

Yeah, I'm okay. And we carry on. Along our way.