she, the tree
Sounds of her shoes pound against the wet ground. It’s raining and the trees are looming over head. She can hear the sound of the wind howling through the leaves. The branches reach out for her, threatening to pull her in. A sour situation, as she longed for nature’s embrace, but feared they would crush her.
She wasn’t worthy.
Tears and rain mingled on the party of her cheeks, dancing together to fuse into the unknown. She thought she was crying, but maybe the sky was crying and her eyes were raining. Who could say what the difference was? Surely, she had no authority.
She ran faster.
The dirt is mud. A shoe is missing, but she kind of likes the feeling of the cold slush between her toes. One foot shielded, one exposed to reality. One felt warm, safe — hiding away. One felt cold, afraid — but alive. There had to be some meaning to that thought, right? Or was she just letting her mind ramble away?
The hill looked up, spotting her.
Or she spotted it — who knows? She scrambled her way up, digging hands and nails into the flesh of nature. Yanking on grass, ripping up flowers, to make her way to the edge. She was assisted by All.
“Hello, tree,” she whispered beneath her breath, resting on her knees at the base of the trunk. She would admit to herself, she was afraid to touch it. How many times would she come here to feel rejected? But was the tree rejecting her or was she rejecting the tree? That was it, wasn’t it?
Who could possibly know?
She looked up, admiring the tree in it’s full beauty for the first time. A slew of colors played against the backdrop of a gray-black sky. How could it shine so bright, even now? Wouldn’t it be great to be like that, she thought.
Her arm extends, her fingers flex. Reaching out with the most unsteady of touch — a nail scrapes along the bark
Here is my submission for the contest, if I am not too late. 15 minutes of non-stop, uninterrupted writing, no edits. :)