The Life of the Forest

He picked the lock on his door, climbed down from his second floor window, even snuck past the dogs bought exclusively to warn of his escape.
 Eventually the day came when it was time for James to go to school. He did not come home on the bus that first day, however. Around suppertime he broke through the trees, walked in and sat down to eat. He never rode the bus. In the summer, he would rise with the sun, eat a hurried breakfast, grab an apple, and head for the trees. He arrived home in time for supper, then spent the evening reading under the maple tree by the back porch. He still talked to it, occasionaly.
 Though his aunt and uncle wanted desperately to know what James did in the woods, they were never able to follow him. It was as though the forest swallowed him up as he entered. This was, in fact, close to the truth. He would walk aimlessly, stopping at certain trees just to stare. He would gaze at them from top to bottom, coming close enough to feel the cracks of their bark in the soft flesh of his stomach. As he stood motionless, sometimes for hours, he became almost a part of the forest. He did not startle any of the animals, for they were accustomed to his presence. But they too were curious. They had never seen a human behave as James did, and often tracked him.
 James' need for the forest continued to grow. The fall that he turned eleven, he found that he was not able to go to school. It meant too much time away from the forest. Even in the winter, he continued to spend all day among the trees - from sunrise until sunset. His aunt was lucky to get a warm coat on him before he left. But she knew that she could not stop him.
 When James fell ill, the symptoms of his infection were not what he suffered from most. It was withdrawal from the trees. During the day he would sit moaning at the window seat. At night, he cried himself to sleep. And yet he always healed quickly. James never remained sick for longer than a couple of days. As soon as he was recovered, he would dash into the forest, often beating the sun.

(three)
It was after one such illness that the transformation began. Though James lived in the forest for hours everyday, he had never spent the night among the trees. One harsh case of the flu, however, would change that. It had started with his aunt, passed to his uncle, and finally fell to him. For five days he slept, rising only once a day for a bowl of chicken soup. On the fifth night, the fever broke during his sleep.
 When James’ uncle rose at five to prepare for work, James was not in the house. When he came home again at six, the boy had still not returned.  As he turned out the light at nine, there was still no sign of James. By the time he rose at midnight to get a glass of water, he was worried. He roused his wife, got dressed, grabbed a flashlight, and ventured into the night.
 He walked slowly through the grass, his flashlight casting long shadows on the stalks, creating an eerie pattern on the forest in the background. He knew where to begin, for the boy always entered the woods at the same spot. From there, however, things grew more difficult. There was not a sign of anything, animal or human. He only had to venture in a few yards more to determine that his search would be fruitless.