The girl burst out the door of their modest little home like thunder on a quiet summer night. Only, summer was beginning to fade; the mornings grew colder, and the air was filled was a damp fog. The once luscious green grass and the leaves on the trees were muting to muddled shades yellow, orange and red. She jogged off the rickety porch steps with youthful grace, her untied tennis shows slapping the frosty pavement of the drive. She grabbed her bicycle, passed down to her from her older brother, she paid no mind to the cracked patches of silver and green paint or the rust that seeped from the edges and seems.
Peddling through the familiar streets, she passed the main street of town, riddled with sluggish cars as the grown-ups dragged themselves to their nine-to-fives. She had vowed herself last year, on her first day of elementary school, that she would not turn into one of those slow-moving zombies when she was bigger. She would get herself an interesting job, like a marine biologist, or maybe a firefighter, but her heart was set on being a detective, they had the best job. But for now, she peddled her little bike down one of the quiet side streets, watching as the houses got bigger and fancier as she rode, wondering if it was possible to get lost in your own house.
At the end of the street was her secret entrance to the forest that surrounded their little rural town. The large orange and brown trees loomed over that already tall homes, as they seemed to tickle the sky with their branches. She slowed down her bike, touching her feet to the wet grass. Her bike hadn't had breaks since before her brother let her borrow it, but she had found an easy workaround, at the expense of her rubber soles. Furtively, she scanned the neighbourhood one more, her wonderous brown eyes bouncing from door to door, searching for the prying eyes of the rich. They did not like it when kids got into the woods. Apparently they were known to cause a ruckus and disturb their peace.
Once the coast was clear, she proceeded past the protective shroud of the forest's edge.
The trail was well defined from years of travel by the so-called trouble makers. This was a place that the grown-ups could not touch, nothing boring, no chores, no responsibilities, no babysitters, and most importantly, no rules. She knew of a few kids in her class that care here to punch out their problems, or even sneak a kiss from their playground sweetheart. She was here for a different purpose. Last night her older brother had told her a story, perched on his heels on the end of her bed, about a gate in these woods. While she didn't typically take her big brother seriously, as usually his words were accompanied by profanities and his breath smelt of stolen cigarettes and ramen noodles, he had never lied to her before.
It had been a story about the richest family in their town, the legendary Clemonte family. They had a mansion hidden somewhere in the woods, with a daughter about her age, which they kept locked away behind a Victorian iron gate. According to him, it was an old town mystery as to where the family went and what they were hiding. After a night-long of searching the forest above from Google maps on her mother's laptop which she had snuck under her bed, she had mapped herself out a heading and began the journey bright and early. She was a detective, and she had to solve the case.
She peddled, content in her own mind until the sun passed its mid-point.
Suddenly, a cackle of laughter could be heard from the trail behind her. She glanced over her shoulder while navigating the thick brush. It was that nasty kid from the eighth grade, the known town bully. Her brother had had several run-ins with this scoundrel before, and she had always been warned to stay away from him. He had given himself a tattoo on his forearm of a pirate skull and crossbones, made with a razor blade and pen ink. He often ripped the sleeves off of his vintage t-shirts to show it off. He and his henchmen were chasing her, yelling inaudible jokes and insults, and quickly gaining on her tail. She peddled that bike harder than ever before. After a few minutes, she noticed they had stopped.
"Look out!" The boy yelled, causing her to face her front once more before she hit it.
The dry-rotted front tire of her bike slid directly between the bars, pushing the gate wide open and sending her flying sideways over the handlebars.
When the dust and leaves settled around her, she found herself on the other side of the Victorian iron fence.