A sign with hand carved letters proclaiming “Writefury Cove” points down a dirt footpath that disappears deep into the evergreen forest below. The path is barely worn, but still visible among the pine needles. You start walking down it, hoping it won’t be too long until you reach the cove.

 

Rain patters down around you on the forest floor and you pull up your jacket’s hood. Pine and rain scent fill the air around you.

 

The path takes a sharp turn around a big tree and suddenly stops. You look up the tree and see a rope ladder dangling next to you, leading high up into the tree branches. There’s no more path, so this must be the entrance.

 

You take hold on the rough rope and begin climbing up to the canopy of branches. The ground becomes farther and farther down below and the ladder keeps going. Pushing past a few branches in the way, you see a treehouse not far above you.

 

You climb the last stretch and find yourself on the deck. The trees part to show a view of a little ocean cove right beyond the deck. Boats sail past, seemingly not noticing the private hideaway. You lean forward on the deck rail and breathe in the salty air, enjoying the view.

 

“Oh!” a surprised voice comes from behind you. You turn to see a light-haired man in a blue woolen coat trying to shuffle the papers he’s holding around so he has a free arm. He succeeds and holds out a hand for you to shake.

 

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, “I didn’t realize the time. I’m Writefury’s assistant, Clayton. I…” he coughs and adjusts the papers in his arm again, “…help her organize ideas and such. As you can see, there are a lot of them.”

 

“Obviously,” you smile.

 

“She should be down in a second.” Clayton squints up into the tree branches above and sighs. “I will never understand why she likes going out in this sort of weather. Would you come in?”

 

You follow him through the carved door of the treehouse and into a cozy little room. Bookshelves line the walls and a little desk piled with notes pushed up near the window. A vanilla smelling candle burns on a small table next to a little speaker playing The Piano Guys.

 

Clayton straightens his stack of papers and sets them on the floor next to the desk, then stands.

 

“Would you like some tea while we wait?”

 

You nod and soon you are holding a warm mug full of black tea. You take a seat in a wooden chair and watch the rain patter down the window.

 

Clayton watches too, his brow furrowed.

 

“She really ought to come in.”

 

The two of you wait a few more minutes, then just as Clayton makes a move towards the door, a small, very wet and happy girl opens it and steps inside. Her short-ish hair hangs in damp curlicues around her freckled face as she stands there, stomping off her black boots on the mat by the door.

 

“About time,” comments Clayton, helping her out of her army green, button down jacket. For being out in the rain, it doesn’t look like a very warm choice of coat. It comes off and shows a pixie-looking dress and jeans underneath, both soaked from rain.

 

“Sorry,” she apologizes, “But I got some really good pictures up there. Want to see?” She seems not to notice you yet.

 

Clayton clears his throat,

 

“We have a guest at the moment,” he gestures over to you and you stand up, “Did you forget?”

 

“Oh, gosh. I’m sorry.” The girl smiles lopsidedly at you and holds out a hand, “I’m Writefury. Welcome to the cove.”

 

“It’s fine,” you assure her, shaking the offered hand. “Nice place you’ve got here. I’m glad to finally get to see it.”

 

“Thanks,” Writefury looks around the room. “Well, there’s a lot to see. I have lots of stories you can read if you want. Some poems and photos and a few recipes as well. Feel free to explore! I love answering your questions as well.”

 

Accepting her invitation, you start browsing the many shelves, excited by all the possibilities.

Story Shelf

Photo Shelf

Poem Shelf

Recipe Shelf

Writing Advice Shelf

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P.S. Thank you proverbs31teen for Clayton! He’s great. 🙂