It stood in the small patch of forest behind your house that was home to twisting branches and fleeting moments in time that you so desperately just grappled onto as an escape from your real problems in life. There was a tussle between the branches and grass. Something thud onto the floor and the hushed whispers of the wind grew to whistles and screeches. you lay in your bed, your legs covered with the thick quilt your grandmother had passed onto you. There was a tap against your window.