Live and Learn (Short Stories)

Home

 Swish, swish... The wind blew against the tree's, brushed the leaves together, pulled flakes of bark off of the branches. The little green pines of the pine trees fluttered to the ground like helicopter seeds. They twirled and spun and danced together through the air, synchronized, one with the other. Staring up at the tall, tall trees from the grassy plains below. The trees were so tall that they touched the sky, moistening the tippy-top branches from the white, fluffy clouds full of gassy water.

     The sun was setting in the northwest, sprinkling the edges of the world with a heavenly golden light that dotted the closest clouds and spread them through the pale blue sky. The sun bubbled in joy as it sunk under the horizon, as if it wanted to shout, "Was I great today?" Even though the sun would disappear for twelve hours, it still glowed it's yellow glow to extinguish the fear from the hearts of men.

     The ground crinkled and crackled under the hooves of deer and the paws of tiny, brown squirrels that twittered among the dead, dried leaves and the fallen, broken sticks. "Crinkle, crackle" went the rabbits as they hoped on by. "Crinkle crackle." Deer gnawed on the fresh, dew covered grass that tasted nice and sweet to the deers' fleshy tongue. It's buck-teeth chewed and chewed, head bent to the muddy dirt, eyes barely visible. It's fur ruffled every now and then, like a bad twitch, a large white spot on it's back being stretched long and tall.

     The deer sniffed at the ground, crunching on sticks, before galloping off into the distance. It was a majestic beast while it lasted. The wind shuffled on down, vibrating the forest as a whole. Crickets chirped, birds tweeted, frogs croaked and spiders crawled along to catch their next meal, the shiny, thin legs reflecting the sinking sun. Their webs were spun and silky, sticky to all but the predator that sat, nestled, and waited. The beady, black eyes of the spider roam it's web, waiting for that frantic fly to get caught, or that buzzing bee to get tangled. The carnivorous spider would show no mercy to whomever becomes it's prey.

     A small frog leaps past the woven web, uninterested, unknowingly, and quite frightened looking. The lost green amphibian has forgotten it's way yet it forges on into the unknown, where, looming tall above him, are predators that wouldn't hesitate to gobble him up. Yet, continue it shall, until it's little webbed feet can no longer hop anymore.

     A fragile while flake of something solid and covered in a strange liquid lands next to the frog, scaring him off. It's a piece of an egg; the egg of a birds' hatchling. The top of a short tree lies an organized pile of sticks and feathers and fur and all sorts of other things. The nest is round, a little pocket in the middle that snuggly homes five eggs. Two have already split into pieces from ugly, wrinkly baby birds that broke their way out of the liquid prison that protected their growth. They squeal and squeal in their baby voices, begging mama for love and affection, but most of all, for food. 

     The third baby slowly pecks it's pale beak against the egg from inside, struggling to get free. Soon, it's slimy pink head will pop out and it will finally get loose. The largest of the eggs, the first laid, has caved in and smells fowl. This baby did not make it.

     Beneath the leaves and branches and nests, the fumeless dirt that holds the forest together, grows the trees and the grass for the animals to feed on, and lays home to thousands of creatures; the earth. The ground gave birth to the beauty that is nature, from the new blue sky to the dirt brown, bark covered trees. This forest, this house, was were many animals called Home.