A Walk in the Woods
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Samantha Watson
Mrs. Branstetter
CAIII 1st hour
26 October 2016
A Walk In The Woods
I take a short walk just past the tall oak trees, that reach into the sky I think they
could touch the moon. Then walk down the windy path that looks as if pilgrims traveled down because the ground has been worn so much. I step under the rusty bob wire that looks as if it could fall apart with a single touch. Then I look out into the field and see just one oak tree, not like the ones before that appear to touch the moon, but one standing alone at twenty feet high, about the height of a one story house, with branches that reach out so far they try to reach the edge of the field. As I walk towards this tree, I notice the grass does not feel soft like feathers but rough like sticks. But as I approach the tree, I notice the grass changes and I see the further under the tree I go, the softer the grass becomes. Then at the base of the tree, I witness a single patch of the softest grass around and I sit, I feel as if Im sitting on the clouds and nothing could be better. As I sit there, I look around and I see a horse, the most wild looking horse Ive ever seen with his red brown mane and tail moving with the wind and his brick colored fur covered in dirt. I feel the soft breeze touching my skin as the wind rustles the tall weeds in the field. I glance over to the tree line and see squirrels chasing one another. Above me in the tree, I hear birds fly through the branches speaking to one another. And as I sit I think there is no better place than this.
As I sit at the base of the tree, the rough bark brushes up against my back, even though somehow its not uncomfortable. I hold a book in my hands and as I open this book I see the light breeze picks up the corners of the pages. I begin to read and the story unfolds before me. With no distractions, the characters talk and move within their story. In fact the characters play out their stories as if I were right there with them. I forget everything going on in the world. Everything thats going on in my life. My mind allows the setting around me to completely change to fit the story and as I sit here, at the base of that oak tree, I feel as if nothing matters anymore except for those words printed on the pages. The longer I sit, the wind tells me the story through his quite whispers of breath.
Lost in my imagination, leaves crunch behind me only feet away. Slowly, I close my book I turn with my hand on the trees rough trunk and I peek past the tree. Two deer in the field stand fifteen feet from me. A doe with big brown eyes eating the acorns that fell from my tree, my special place. Behind the doe, her fawn with bright white spots on her back end as if pieces