Her eyes shot up to the sound of dripping water, monotonously hitting the metal bucket. A tantalizing smell of pancakes filled her nostrils. It was her favorite. She loosened the metal chains and pulled herself towards the bed. A shiny pair of metal shoes sat in place under the bed, as if it were plaintively looking up at her, reminding her to use it. Still in a trancelike state she put them on and headed for the kitchen. She used to have trouble putting on the shoes and often times, she’d let the ceiling catch her. But not today.
?
She found her mother making pancakes, just the way she liked them. Her mother looked up.
“Amy Sweetie, are you excited? First day of camp, huh?”
Amy smiled and nodded, but kept her eyes on the pancakes.
“Yummy, thanks mom.”
After breakfast, her mother and Amy with her polished metal shoes pulled out of the driveway and headed for Camp Neola.

The campground was an ocean of excited children, emotional parents and cumbersome luggage. There was a line of parents registering their children in at the last possible minute. Amy’s mother was one of them.

?

Amy looked around the place she would call home for the next month. Her eyes caught the foliage behind the registration center. Exquisitely, she ventured off into the woods. The scenery took her breath away. The trees were determined fortresses, grasping for the skies. The mahogany guardians hovered over her, obscuring the camp.                  

Her heavy metal shoes pushed against the moss-carpet as she followed the trail of broken twigs. She loved petrichor that the ground gave off. Suddenly, the ground swallowed her feet up till her knees. She felt herself being slowly eaten by the earth as she sank lower and lower. She called out for help, but to no avail.

?

Desperate and scared, she kicked of her metal shoes. The moment the shoes came off, the earth spat her out like poison. She was lifted of off the ground. But, just as the earth was letting her go, she reached out and clenched the bough of a tree nearby.
It seemed like forever that she held on to the tree. She couldn’t remember her mother or the camp. The only sounds she could hear were of scampering chipmunks and of creaking groves. She was holding on for life. If her fingers had a moment of weakness, she would fly away.   
        ~
A gust of the wind took her hand. She thought she saw a silhouette, but she was mistaken. And now she grasps for the skies as well.