Summary: The treehouse may be cold and drafty, but it’s always been a place of warmth and solace for Clark. And maybe this time, it’ll give him a bit of inspiration too.
Author’s Note: This is a response to Queen of the Capes’s Title Generator Challenge (
https://www.lcficmbs.com/ubb/ubbthreads.php/topics/291078/title-generator-challenge). Thanks to KSaraSara for the quick read through and for helping with the Summary. Happy Ficlet Friday!
The Cold TreehouseBy Bek
I visit sometimes. I think my parents know, but they never mention it. I just like to sit here, alone in the quiet, just me and my thoughts.
It started shortly after I left for college, and I just needed to…get away. Midwestern University is in a much bigger city than Smallville, and I wasn’t used to all the noise.
The treehouse is good for that. It’s almost as though there’s some barrier up when I’m here, and the sounds I should hear are muted.
I got used to it—all the noise of the city. Then after college, I moved on, off to travel the world. And there were more big cities and more noises and more… Everything was more.
I visited a lot then.
The treehouse is cold now as I sit on the hard wood floor, staring out the window off into the darkness of space.
I’m here for a different reason tonight. And I hope they don’t know that I’m here—my parents. I hope they can’t sense me out here, not too far from the farmhouse. Because tonight, I came here needing to think.
My whole life, I’ve been different. And because of that, I’ve kept everyone at arms’ length. I’ve spent years heeding my dad’s warnings to keep my abilities hidden, years actively hiding who I am and what I can do, years struggling to be…careful. All. The. Time.
But today…today I met someone, and in the moment we met, I knew…something was different about her. She was like sunshine. Warm, life-giving sunshine. And something about her made my heart stutter and race. Even now, I can barely keep myself grounded. I feel light, as though gravity doesn’t exist.
Of course, in the next moment after meeting her, I was rejected for the job I’d applied to. So I’m…not sure what’s going to happen now. And that’s sort of why I’m here, sitting in this cold treehouse.
I close my eyes and let the quiet surround me, anchor me. And a plan forms. It’s rough and a long shot. But I’ll take any chance I can get if it means maybe getting to see her again.
By the time I feel the warmth of the morning seeping in through the old wooden walls of the treehouse, my heart’s ready, still, settled.
I stand up and dust my hands off on my pants. Then I leap out into the early morning sky and fly north—a path that somehow already feels familiar and right. Like I’m going…home.
The End.
