Fiction Ultra Short - The Good Earth

Once, when I was a kid, I made a shelter for myself by digging a big hole in the ground and then resting the logs from an old fence we had broken down on rocks across the top. On top of the logs, I put a layer of leaves and pine needles to create an even layer and for insulation. On top of that I put earth and then a layer of moss I collected from the forest. I loved it in there. Sadly, there was no round door, nor fireplace, nor storeroom full of wine and cakes, but I would bring down some food and a good book and call it home. Even in the dark of winter, I could crawl into that shelter and feel protected by the good earth that surrounded me.

I had an old lunch-box filled with Victoria's Secrets and a Playboy I had stolen from my father's bedroom. I kept them wrapped in a plastic Shoprite bag inside the yellow transformers box to keep them warm, but over time their pages wrinkled and corrugated. When my Father and Step-Mom would fight, when the dogs hid in the corner and the house smelled of cold dinner and Jeopardy played in the background, I would hide out in that warm dark earthen sanctum. With time, the moss took hold and grew into the earth while the leaves turned to mulch and provided nutrients. As I grew and the spring melts and summer rains eroded the earthen walls and eventually it became a soft bed of moss on which to lie an look up at the sky.