In my first days, barely seeing the ground in front of me was my reality. Almost being one with the grass growing around me, and the flowers who stretched above me, who danced in the wind as it ruffled in their petals.
It's hard to describe the feeling of being down there, looking up at almost everything but the stones by my side or the occasional beetle. I was happy though. I really was. Time was simpler back then.
As the darkness and the light shifted in being the center of the sky, what I have now learned to be night and day, I grew. It didn't take long before I could look down on the flowers below and feel their petals brush against my roots.
My own small leafs ruffled in the wind, like I had seen the petals of the flower do so many times.
As the warmth left us, and I for the first time saw the flower and the grass turn brown, dying, withering down to nothing until they became one with the dirt beneath them, the cold came and soon after that the cold white from the sky, covering everything like the green of life once had done. This is called snow, something I had no knowledge of then, but only knew how it felt and looked.
My own leafs were long gone, and on my tiny branches the white cold wrapped itself around me. Although at first, this froze me to my roots, I soon discovered it sheltered me from the freezing cold that came later.
The forest around me went into a deep slumber, only a few animals venturing through the cold and soon the slumber came for me too.
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The Story of A Book
Short StoryThe story of a tree that became a book, how feeling and seeing turned to knowledge. How the nature of life can be found in everything. A five part short story. First book in the Nonsense Series. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED! Copyright ©2014 @HanneIB...
