Dipping slowly over the horizon the sun spread out over the lip of the world glowing faintly. Trees swayed gently in the August breeze. Laughter echoed around the canyon, voices toppled over each other filling the air with a constant murmur. The windows on the houses grew brighter in the fading light, out lining the home’s occupants. Cars turned slowly up the winding road, chasing after the sinking sun. The forest watched, it always watched. It was a forest after all and didn’t have much else to do. The leaves rustled, the animals stirred and the forest waited patiently, calmly. The forest knew, it understood, if you waited long enough things would eventually come to you. It was inevitable, night always came and this was no exception. Night came quietly, falling. The stars we’re the first to appear, the darkness rubbing away the light of day, making them shine. Then when the sky was shinny and black, littered with glowing stars, the moon came. It was a delicate crescent, fragile, and the sky took it carefully in its arms and carried it through the night. Cushions of gray clouds swept in around the moon, guarding. If the forest could have smiled, it would have, it was content. It was ready, it was time.
The wind began to pick up slowly, building up until it was a constant wall, pushing it’s way through the trees. The leaves flapped wildly like flags, the trees creaked and groaned, and the animals ran, chasing each other around the trunks. Then came the shift, an almost imperceptible change in the way things were. The trees moved, they stretched, they yawned, and roots flexed. Cautiously roots lifted, extricating themselves from the earth. The first of them to rise was a gnarled old oak, bent with age and covered in crooked branches. The oak levered itself up on its roots and looked around. Hesitantly, the tree took a step; more of a shuffle really and then laughed. As you would expect trees don’t get the chance to move that often, and this particular tree hadn’t left its patch of earth in nearly sixty years. The laugh was a deep creaking sound, warm and familiar. It encouraged the other trees, which nervously gathered themselves up and lifted up on their roots.
For many of them it was their first time, awkward and unsure they staggered about, tripping over their own roots. It took awhile, it always did. Most of the younger trees spent the majority of the time falling, crashing into the ground with great rocking shudders. Others would lose themselves in the joy of freedom and try to run off. Attempting to catch a wayward tree isn’t exactly the easiest job, especially if they happen to be a fair bit younger than you and larger as well. But the forest knew, things would settle, that the time would come. Finally when the moon was held directly overhead, the forest assembled, the entire forest, a whole entity, animals and trees alike. They formed loose circles, the moon shone brighter, the forest hummed with excitement. Thunder cracked overhead and so, the forest danced.
The wind began to pick up slowly, building up until it was a constant wall, pushing it’s way through the trees. The leaves flapped wildly like flags, the trees creaked and groaned, and the animals ran, chasing each other around the trunks. Then came the shift, an almost imperceptible change in the way things were. The trees moved, they stretched, they yawned, and roots flexed. Cautiously roots lifted, extricating themselves from the earth. The first of them to rise was a gnarled old oak, bent with age and covered in crooked branches. The oak levered itself up on its roots and looked around. Hesitantly, the tree took a step; more of a shuffle really and then laughed. As you would expect trees don’t get the chance to move that often, and this particular tree hadn’t left its patch of earth in nearly sixty years. The laugh was a deep creaking sound, warm and familiar. It encouraged the other trees, which nervously gathered themselves up and lifted up on their roots.
For many of them it was their first time, awkward and unsure they staggered about, tripping over their own roots. It took awhile, it always did. Most of the younger trees spent the majority of the time falling, crashing into the ground with great rocking shudders. Others would lose themselves in the joy of freedom and try to run off. Attempting to catch a wayward tree isn’t exactly the easiest job, especially if they happen to be a fair bit younger than you and larger as well. But the forest knew, things would settle, that the time would come. Finally when the moon was held directly overhead, the forest assembled, the entire forest, a whole entity, animals and trees alike. They formed loose circles, the moon shone brighter, the forest hummed with excitement. Thunder cracked overhead and so, the forest danced.
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