Think of the deepest of forests.
Think of a large mossy stone in the darkest of glades, a thin strain of light battles with the thick treetops of the deep forest and shines down right behind the large mossy stone. It is calm and quiet, distant sounds of owls echoed through the forest. Behind the large mossy stone, in the unnatural strain of light that pushed through the tree tops of the forest, there was my home. Deep in this forest, the deepest forest imaginable, under a rock. There lived my family and I.
Everyone who has ever been in to a deep forest have seen a hole, a hole behind a rock.
A goblin hole.
Behind this particular rock you’d find my home.
It wasn’t the deepest hole in the forest nor the biggest, but it was enough for us.
It was our home.
If you’d follow the stream of light all the way down in the hole you would bump into me. Corwin, the scientist, the inventor of light. I had one goal in life. To get up there. Up to the light, above the trees. But to dream of the world outside of the dark forest was not something a goblin should do. A goblin should be happy with a deep hole (deep enough for the blue-green subsoil water to filter through and become the center of the hole) He would also want his hand made explosives if anyone ever should enter this far into the forest, he would be ready to fight for his family. For his hole. In the meantime a goblin should be happy to go on patrolling duty every day, on the big wall that surrounded the whole glade, the tall stone-wall that’d been there for hundreds of years. In case if there ever was an attack, he would come prepared. Us goblins are created with the love for darkness and to hear and react as fast as possible to the slightest sound. We’re a relatively paranoid g...
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...d, and no one knew where, a couple of days before my sixth birthday haven’t made my life better in anyway either.
Tomorrow is my last day of school, the survival contest, so this time I would be able to put all my focus into the light beam for the rest of the summer.
I continued working for the next three hours on my strain of light in hope to get the particles thick enough to make a mass out of it, it was doomed not to happen tonight but I stayed up until I heard the birds twitter outside the hole and my family started to wake up. I hid my light beam-machine in a hole that I made for it and covered it with moss and pushed the old water barrel on the moss, so that no one could find it. It was time for me to sleep, I hoped that no one would wake me up this morning so that I could sleep through this entire day.
The day I wished would never come.
Contest day.
I stepped into the middle of the road and just stood there, the lights stretching in either direction, glowing in the deep chilly air. I could see my own breath, could feel my own warmth as it formed right there in front of me. Behind me, our house looked dark, faint lingering of I'd walk a million miles, and I wasn't even sure if it was really playing or if I was imagining the familiar, the same way a bright light remain when you close your eyelids, the way I imagine that the sight of an eclipse would burn its image into your eyes forever(pg.
No doubt the forest is not without its perils, it is cold and windy, and there are wild
Inside the nicely decorated room with taupe walls just the perfect hint of beige, lie colorful accessories with incredible stories waiting to be told. A spotless, uninteresting window hangs at the end of the room. Like a silent watchman observing all the mysterious characteristics of the area. The sheer white curtains cascade silently in the dim lethargic room. In the presence of this commotion, a sleepy, dormant, charming room sits waiting to be discovered. Just beyond the slightly pollen and dust laden screens, the sun struggles to peak around the edges of the darkness to cast a bright, enthusiastic beam of light into the world that lies beyond the spotless double panes of glass. Daylight casts a dazzling light on the various trees and flowers in the woods. The leaves of fall, showcasing colors of orange, red, and mustard radiate from the gold inviting sunshine on a cool fall day. A wonderful world comes to life outside the porthole. Colossal colors littered with, abundant number of birds preparing themselves for the long awaited venture south, and an old toad in search of the perfect log to fall asleep in for the winter.
When my brother and I weren't at "battle," I would lay beneath my oak tree and daydream. As I looked up I could see millions of branches protecting me from everything above. At the end of each branch were hundreds of more leaves that would gently catch the morning dew, and carefully allowed it to make its way to the grass. It was like thousands of stars in the sky as the sun caught the drops and allowed them to sparkle so brightly. This was my heaven, and as I lay there, I could feel the plush grass, like a snuggly old blanket, holding my body gently against the ground.
Being invited to a friend’s house the other day, I began to get excited about the journey through the woods to their cabin. The cabin, nestled back in the woods overlooking a pond, is something that you would dream about. There is a winding trail that takes you back in the woods were their cabin sits. The cabin sits on top of a mountain raised up above everything, as if it was sitting on the clouds.
We took off down a path covered softly with moss and tiny pink flowers. Off to the side of the path were endless green trees and pants all nestled together to make one beautiful piece of art. After a while, we reached a sparkling, clear brook. It was about twelve feet deep and nearly three feet deep. The path wound right along side the water. Down the brook a ways, we came to a deep water hole where the fish danced in the swirling current. I noticed the brook was beginning to flow a little faster now, and I could hear the steady, rushing noise of the water falling over the cliffs that lied ahead. We walked to the cliff's edge to look over at the crystal clear lagoon that lay below us. The falls dropped about thirty feet down before it met the pool of water below. To the sides of the waterfall were moss-covered rocks, ferns and other green plants, growing from the crevices of the cliffs.
It’s a beautiful morning, as my group of friends and I wake up, we hear the pounding and the thrashing of the water slamming on the moss covered granite rock, I go down the eroded leaf covered pathway to fetch water just like I would do every morning, the sun had just begun to rise, the mixture of scarlet red, orange, and a bleach-like yellow beaming against the hurried water of the river that led into the waterfall shone like flakes of gold floating on top of the whitening water. The serene environment of the surrounding rocks overlooking the waterfall, the ambience of water clashing against the granite, and the aroma of the white pine filling the forest is an awe inspiring experience to all who dare make their way down the narrow and lengthy
We slowly crept around the corner, finally sneaking a peek at our cabin. As I hopped out of the front seat of the truck, a sharp sense of loneliness came over me. I looked around and saw nothing but the leaves on the trees glittering from the constant blowing wind. Catching myself standing staring around me at all the beautiful trees, I noticed that the trees have not changed at all, but still stand tall and as close as usual. I realized that the trees surrounding the cabin are similar to the being of my family: the feelings of never being parted when were all together staying at our cabin.
I first reached the part of the forest known as Bellringer's Hollow. Colorful wildflowers were blooming in a patchwork of bright yellow, azure blue, deep rose, and dazzling orange. Bellringer's Hollow was a magical place where, it is said, bells coul d be heard from time to time. Because the summer residence of the monks of Waltham once stood there, the local villagers thought that the spirits of monks rang those bells and watched over the forest. I lingered there for a while, listening to the gentl e sound of a stream as it flowed over the corks nearby. I also listened for the bells, but the bells did not ring for me. Maybe it was because I was an outsider!
Fortunately, I wake every morning to the most beautiful sun lit house. I sit on my porch sipping coffee, while I drink in an atmosphere that steals my breath away. Rolling hills lay before me that undulate until they crash into golden purple mountains. Oh how they are covered in spectacular fauna, ever blooming foliage, and trees that are heavy with pungent fruit. Green it is always so green here at my house. Here where the air lays heavy and cool on my skin as does the striking rays of the sun upon my cheeks. I know in my soul why I choose to be here every day. Pocketed in all the nooks and crannies of these valleys and hills are stately homes, rich with architecture resplendent. Diversity is the palate here; ...
and we were tiny compared to the long grass surrounding us. Then again, it could
The sunset was not spectacular that day. The vivid ruby and tangerine streaks that so often caressed the blue brow of the sky were sleeping, hidden behind the heavy mists. There are some days when the sunlight seems to dance, to weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. Not on that day. That evening, the yellow light was sickly. It diffused softly through the gray curtains with a shrouded light that just failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving. The sun set and the earth waited.
After just two hours, our very large friend said he’d had enough for the day and was heading for the surface. We told him we’d be out in a few more minutes and to hang around so we could discuss what we’d found. As we began our ascent toward the entrance, we became acutely aware of the complete absence of light the entrance usually emanated. When our flashlights finally found the source of the unusual darkness we were horrified; the big guy was stuck in the cave’s opening again. This time Scott’s head and shoulders were outside, so instead of being able to pull him through, we would have to try to push him out of the opening. We pushed in every combination of ways possible, and needless to say it did not work this time. The paramount problem was that the cave floods from the interior out, so we would all drown if we couldn’t get Scott unstuck, and unstuck quickly.
The sun was still below the horizon but the clouds above the mountains were tainted the color of pomegranates. Around me the shadows seemed empty. I tried not to look into the brush as I walked down the driveway. I had stopped before, looking to see the back of the shadows; staring hard, only to have them retreat from my eyes indefinitely. Invisible birds called from within. Their sound followed me down the driveway and onto the road.
I stepped into the middle of the road and just stood there, the lights stretching in either direction, glowing in the deep chilly air. I could see my own breath, could feel my own warmth as it formed right there in front of me. Behind me, our house looked dark, faint lingering of I'd walk a million miles, and I wasn't even sure if it was really playing or if I was imagining the familiar, the same way a bright light remain when you close your eyelids, the way I imagine that the sight of an eclipse would burn its image into your eyes forever(pg.75).