My Forest

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"Wait up!" I yell to a chipmunk. Somehow, I thought that it would actually understand me...shaking my head, gathering myself, I stop dead in my tracks. The small chipmunk which I had been mindlessly chasing scurries into a forest of vast and majestic trees. Drawn in by Mother Nature, I step into the threshold. Green trees of birch, evergreen, oak, and maple encompass me, though strangely, I do not feel trapped or lost. Running my fingertips along the trunks, I feel the rough, rigid bark of the old oak trees and the contrasting smoothness of the paper-white barks of the birches. The sunlight peeks through the leafy roots, which are swaying in time to the song of the wind. It is present, but not violent, whistling by, providing a cool but light breeze. I feel a crisp sensation underneath my feet as I wander onwards - dead leaves, crunching in the dampened earth. Its scent seeps through my nose, a brisk and refreshing scent. Little birds chirp in harmony, a calming tone to a sweet melody. The soft gargles of the waterfall and laughing creeks provide a soft undertone. I take in the solemnity of this forest. Eyes closed, deep breaths. Peace. 


My eyes snap open to the hooting of owls in the nearby distance, swooping and perching on the bare, skeletal-like branches. The forest, no longer a haven, has become a nightmare - dark and misty. Panic-stricken, I look around. There is only one path, but it is shrouded by fog in the dark and frigid night. Emerging from the shadows  comes a bear - black-brown in colour, chocolate brown eyes perched above its short (yet somewhat lengthy) snout. I open my mouth to scream, but fear has its lanky arms and bony fingers wrapped around my larynx. Petrified, I wait for the worst. Against my arms and legs, I feel a soft sensation. The bear, showing no signs of hostility, nudges me. I snuggle in its warm fur. Comfort. Security. Safe.


When I wake up, my friendly bear is nowhere to be found. The sky has cleared, sun once again peeking through the trees, emitting its light and warmth. Chirps and gargles are heard again. I'm back. However, rather than a sense of familiarity, there is something foreign about the forest. I get up on my feet and notice that the earth is now dry. Crunching on sticks and twigs that have fallen from above, I wander onwards. Something petite and obscure is ahead of me. Stumbling forwards, uncovering the earth, I find a slightly rusted key with a heart-shaped handle. Glancing around, I wonder what it could be for. A nearby tree strikes a major chord inside my head. It has a peculiar knob of a hole in its body...could it be? Inserting the key into the tree, I turn it clockwise, one and a half rotations. Nothing happens. I shrug it off and keep walking forward.


The nearby sound of water distracts me, taking me away from my path. As I wander on towards the sound, the trees seem to start to fade away, revealing a large spring. The water, a tint of blue-green, seemed to glisten under the sunlight, its master now fully revealed and visible in the cyan sky. The perfect temperature - not too hot, just warm enough. On an empty wooden table just on a tiny island across the wooden bridge, there lay a tiny white china cup, delicate to the touch. A large willow tree hovers over the island. I place the cup in my hand...do I drink the water? Pondering...


I am back on the forest path, which now leads into a small circular piece of flat land, once again surrounded by trees. I take in a deep breath. The air is fresh. As small creatures gather around, I notice the area smells faintly of spruce. I wish to lie down, but I must keep journeying through. Strolling along the lush green carpet, I step outside the ring of comfort.


Pointing at the horizon is a cliff. On that cliff is a grand castle of white stone and marble. There is another building there, too - a small wooden cottage complete with a rotating watermill and many flowers. The castle casts a shadow onto the little wooden cottage, a menacing reflection in the lily pond. Should I enter the castle, or should I stay? I wonder to myself, "why would someone build a peasant's home beside a marvellous, grandeur castle when people would without a doubt choose the castle?" For some strange reason, I am compelled to enter the cottage, intrigued with the strange myth it hides. Approaching the cottage, my feet stop walking. Is this a test of fate? What will happen to me? A sinking feeling comes to my heart, I feel a sudden rush of cold air. My sixth sense tells me that either choice will not lead to happily ever after, dangers to my life. To my surprise, the chipmunk which I had been chasing appears before me once again. Half expecting it to turn into some witch, princess, knight in shining armour, fairy, or creature, I stared at it with anticipation. Instead, it just ran off back into the forest. Suddenly, I remember the key. And it seemed to fit the rusty padlock on the cottage...


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This was part of a drama activity where my teacher would tell us to imagine certain things. These were the things I envisioned in my head.
Those certain things are actually symbols of things in life:


Created: Feb 26, 2014

Tags: forest, prose, nature

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