Because Puppets Need Love Too

After pulling you for what seemed like forever, I finally stopped a few metres away from my old hideaway (which some might call a cubbyhouse) in the far east suburbs of New York. It was starting to get dark now, and the light autumn breeze swayed the tiny house, between the tall trees, that I made at the age of seven, when I ran away from home. It was like my refuge; whenever I needed to think, I would go there to reflect and relax for an hour or two. The thing was miniscule, simply made from old tree trunks, branches, and old blankets and cloth that my mom would throw out.

For me, it was like a trip down memory lane.

For you, it was freaking adorable.

"Aww!" you exclaimed. "That's so cute!"

"Yeah, I guess. It's a bit rickety, but it just might fit us if you wanted to take a look inside."

"What's it look like inside?" you asked excitedly.

"You'll see when we're in there!" I replied, grinning.

We basically ran forward, as we both were excited to see it, either again, or for the first time, in your case. Twigs cracked beneath our feet, and leaves crumpled as they were pushed back by our shoes sliding against the ground. We finally got to the place, and you scrambled in on your hands and knees, looking like a nutcase three-year-old as you did so. I laughed and scrambled in behind you...

...Perfect view.

Anyway, after about a minute of moving around, trying to sit comfortably in the slightly cramped space, we both sat cross-legged on the ground, looking around.
After a few minutes of swimming in memories, I looked over again at you. You were still looking around the place - you thought it was so nifty and welcoming that you couldn't stop looking around. I giggled at your astonishment and your eyes snapped across to me.

"What?"

"You're funny, that's all."

"I didn't do anything."

"Yeah you did."

"Okay, what, then?"

"You look absolutely astonished."

"How is that funny?"

"I find it cute."

You grinned, and I grinned back.

"That's not all," I announced, "We have to go downstairs."

Confusion washed over your face and I giggled again as I clambered on my hands and knees over to a tiny wooden trapdoor.

"You can't be serious," you whispered with utter amazement.

I grinned broadly. "Oh, I am."

I opened the little door, and it creaked as I watched your eyes widen.

Below, dug into the rock and dirt, was a tunnel slide. It led to the room that I camped in, ate in, and did everything else in, while I had been away from home.

I slung my feet down into the hole, ready to push off. I looked at you, and you looked back at me, eyes huge, and mouth slightly open.

I grinned excitedly. "You coming?"

Without a word, you scrambled over behind me, ready and waiting.

"When I get to the bottom and I'm out of the way, I'll call back up and you come down, okay?" I directed, looking back at you. You nodded in understanding silently, and I turned back and pushed myself down the tunnel, watching rocks, pebbles and all sorts of bugs skim past as I slid quickly along the soil. When I got to the dark substructure, I called back up, cue-ing you to come down too. Within seconds, I could hear your voice.

"Ew! Bugs!" you shouted, and I laughed as you came sprawling out of the tunnel exit, wiping off your clothes vigorously. I could only just see you in the very dim light, and so I slowly felt my way over to the tiny lantern that hung on the wall, and lit it with a match and box I held in my pocket. The entire dug-out room was immediately lit, almost creepily, by firelight.

It was just as I remembered it. A double-sized sleeping bag lay crumpled on the left side, a small, paperback publication of West Side Story sitting beside it, partially covered with fallen dirt. A tiny, battery-powered fridge sat a few feet away, coupled with a big box full of canned food, and a little, also battery-powered mini-television sat across the room. Two miniature bean bags sat in front of the television, for when I had guests here, which wasn't often.

As before, your eyes were glued to everything. I watched your irises flicker non-stop around the room, and back to me. You looked as though you wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't come, or your mind malfunctioned and you had no idea what you were going to say anymore. Finally, you spoke.

"This is amazing. It's... it's awesome! So, it's like, your sanctuary, right?"

"No," I replied, smiling, "It's our sanctuary now."