[ WP ] You find a typewriter in the middle of the forest . Curious , you try it out and learn that every time you write words on the paper , someone writes back

Trees had always been Louise's safe place. She loved everything about them. How they smelled, how high up she could climb, how she could look out over the whole neighborhood... 
 
 how the leaves hid her from sight. 
 
 That's why she had taken a liking to this live oak. It kept its leaves all year round, so she never had to worry about it being bare. And it's branches spread both wide and high, stretching up and out in every direction. Her skin was even the same color as the bark, and her gangly, bony limbs looked like branches from just the right angle. Even so, she had never climbed quite this high before, up into the trees upper boughs before finally straddling a thick, strong branch and sobbing, pressing her face into the trunk. She could feel the rough bark pressing lines into her forehead, and she let her face drop, hoping to hit it against the branch beneath her. But something stopped her halfway with a loud clank, briefly tangling up in her tight black braids. 
 
 Confused, Louise opened her eyes, wiping the tears out of them so her sight was n't quite so blurry. Underneath her, she saw buttons. When she wiped her eyes again, she realized that somehow, an ancient typewriter ( Smith-Corona still etched clearly under its keys ) had sunken halfway into the tree's wood. She knew that trees were able to grow around things, but the question of how the hell a typewriter ended up up here was still in her head. 
 
 She looked down at it, running her fingers over the varnished wood and metal keys. There was even ancient, yellowed, water-stained paper inside of the cylinder, now freshly marked with carbon prints of the central letters on which she'd hit her head. That was n't too surprising. 
 
 What was was when, with a stifled *clink* from a bell halfway embedded in wood, the cylinder ratcheted back to the right before the hammers started moving on their own. She watched, transfixed, as the keys depressed themselves, one after the other, until a message was typed below her own keysmash: 
 
 `` Please do not do that again.'' 
 
 She blinked. Then blinked again. Slowly, hands trembling, Louise pressed her fingers to the keys, ratcheting the paper down to the next level before typing her message as gently as she could: `` Do you want me to stop typing?'' 
 
 Louise yanked her fingers back from the keyboard, scurrying and scooting away from the typewriter, still intensely focused on it. Again, the hammers started to lift and move by themselves. `` No, typing is okay. Just do n't hit it so hard. It feels weird.'' 
 
 It took her a bit to inch herself forwards, but Louise managed to force herself to touch the keys again. `` What are you?'' 
 
 `` I'm the tree.'' The typewriter was still for a moment, but before Louise could type, it started moving again. `` Well, no, that's not true. I'm part of the tree. There's lots of us in there.'' 
 
 `` So you're like... a spirit?'' 
 
 `` Yes, that's a good word for it! I've seen you before, from far away, but you've never come up to my branch. You're a human, right?'' 
 
 `` Yes. Is that bad?'' 
 
 A few of the hammers twitched, then rested again, almost as if the tree was thinking, before it finally started clicking against the paper. `` No. I do n't think so. Some of the others do. They say humans are invasive. But I think they're still just part of all of us. I like humans. And I like you. You're why I can write.'' 
 
 `` What do you mean?'' 
 
 `` I wondered what you were always doing with that little box of light and sand you play with. I recognized some of the symbols, and watched them until I understood.'' 
 
 Louise cringed and had to think before typing her next response. `` How old are you?'' 
 
 `` What's'old'? I never understood that one.'' 
 
 She started to type about birthdays, but changed her mind halfway through, licking her sweater sleeve and using it to smear off the ink. `` It's like... how long you've been existing. Like, I've been alive for ten years.'' 
 
 `` What's a year?'' 
 
 Louise smacked her forehead. This was difficult. `` A year his how long it takes for the earth to go around the sun.'' 
 
 `` What? The earth does n't move, it stays right here with me!'' 
 
 `` No, it does!'' She groaned. `` Look, I'll explain more when I have my phone with me. that's the little box of glowing sand you were talking about. I can look it up and tell you how it really works. But a year is how long it takes for flowers to stop being flowers, then turn back into them again.'' 
 
 `` Ooooh.'' The keys trembled, doing a sort of fidgety dance before the number keys started moving. `` I think I can remember six or seven of those.'' 
 
 `` You're very young then. Young is like not old.'' 
 
 `` Yeah. The shoot I came from is really thin. It's over on the edge of the branch.'' 
 
 Louise looked over her shoulder, but she could n't tell any of the shoots apart. She felt it was probably best not to mention this. `` Do you have a name? Like, something you call yourself to set you apart from others?'' 
 
 `` I do n't think I do.'' 
 
 `` Well, we can come up with one later. We're about to run out of paper.'' 
 
 `` Is there more?'' 
 
 `` Yeah, I'll go get it.'' 
 
 Louise climbed down, meaning to just sneak into her house and grab her phone. But she grabbed some paper too, just in case she had n't imagined everything that just happened. 
 
... 
 
 By the time she was 13, Louise's parents had started telling her she was too old for tree climbing. She was careful to be the model child in every other capacity, so that they could n't complain too much. It was n't perfect, but the friend she had up there was worth it. 
 
 She climbed every day back up to that old Smith Corona, on which she had carved a new name: Virginiana. 
 
 But when she was turning 14, something was changing. 
 
 `` Niana?'' 
 
 `` Yes, Louise?'' 
 
 `` My parents are really going through with the divorce. Dad's almost certainly gon na get custody.'' 
 
 `` That's good! He's the nice one!'' 
 
 `` Yeah, it is. But...'' 
 
 `` But?'' 
 
 Louise leaned her head against the tree trunk again, crying like the first time she found the typewriter, watching her tears splash down between the keys. `` Mom's gon na get the house. It's in her family.'' 
 
 `` What? But then where will you and your dad live?'' 
 
 `` I do n't know. Somewhere that is n't here.'' 
 
 She sobbed, her whole body shuddering against the bark as she grabbed fistfuls of her coarse hair and pulled it. She could hear the typewriter moving, but it took a while before she could bear to open her eyes. `` What would that mean for us?'' 
 
 `` I do n't know.'' 
 
 `` Is there anything I can do for you?'' 
 
 `` I do n't know.'' 
 
 `` Okay.'' 
 
 The branches creaked mournfully, and a few leaves fluttered down, some brushing softly over Louise's wet cheeks. She curled herself up, sobbing and flicking through her phone for a few minutes before her eyes opened wide and she turned back to the keyboard. `` Niana, do you want to stay with me?'' 
 
 `` Yes, of course I do!'' 
 
 `` Do you trust me?'' 
 
 `` I do that too, Louise.'' 
 
 `` Even with your life?'' 
 
 The next reply came slower. But after a few minutes of uncertain key flicks, the hammers finally lifted to the paper. `` Yes.'' 
 
 `` Then I might be able to do something. Give me a few days.'' 
 
... 
 
 With a soft grunt of exertion, Louise put the bonsai pot on top of her desk by the window, gently straightening out the leaves and pouring some water soothingly into the mulch. Her RA looked over her shoulder, a soft, bewildered smile on his face. `` Okay, I definitely understand the plant, but humor me: Why the hell is there a phone trapped inside it?'' 
 
 Louise glanced over at the ancient nokia, mostly swallowed by the tree's wood, except for the all important charger port, which she surreptitiously faced away from where anyone would see when it was plugged in. `` That's a bit of a long story, but it's kind of why I picked it. As much as it matters, I just really liked this branch.'' 
 
 The RA shrugged. `` Alright, that makes sense. Tell me if you need anything. Your roomie will show up in a few hours.'' 
 
 She nodded, locking the door behind him before climbing up into her bed. There, she took out her own phone, pausing to make sure next month's bill for unlimited texting was paid in full. Satisfied, she pulled up her messages and typed up to the top recipient: `` You okay there, honey?'' 
 
 Before long, her phone hummed softly, lighting up: Message from Virginiana.
