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This week, we present responses to the following challenges: Woods. Imagine a talking forest where the trees’ dialogue reflects their characteristics: sweet-talking maples, cool but prickly spruce? What do the trees say? Write their dialogue. And general writing.
By Jenseny Lauer
Age 14, Bradford, Vt.
Have you heard of the place called the Talking Woods? It’s a very mystical place. People say the trees in those woods talk. Some are mean, some are nice; it all depends on what type of tree it is. The first person who ever went there and noticed it was a child. Here is his story:
One day, a boy named James was playing in the woods when he heard someone shout, “Watch it, or you’ll snap one of my branches off! And that doesn’t feel too pleasant.”
James jumped back. He had no clue who’d said that, and he couldn’t see anybody for miles. The voice was kind of hollow, like it was vibrating through a pipe. It sounded something between squeaky and deep.
“I’m over here,” shouted the voice again. It came from behind James, so he turned around — but only saw the woods. Then he noticed a face in one of the pine trees… or at least it looked like a face. It was staring at him, so he stared back.
“Oh, so now we’re having a staring contest?” the pine said. James jumped in surprise. So, it was the pine tree talking all along.
“Have you always been able to do that? Talk, I mean,” James asked the pine tree.
“Of course I have,” the tree responded, as if that were a normal thing. “Don’t all trees?”
“Well, you’re the first tree I’ve ever heard talk, and I know many trees,” James informed the pine.
“What’s your name?” it enquired.
“I’m James. May I ask what your name is?” James said.
“I’m Needles. Weird name, I know…”
But before Needles could finish, another voice spoke up: “Enough with that, Needles. Let the boy play in peace.” This voice was also hollow, but deeper and more powerful.
“Sorry for my friend over here. She can be quite the rude chatterbox.” The voice came from the tree beside Needles. This tree was an oak tree. “You want to know my name, don’t you?” the oak asked.
James nodded. He was getting a little freaked out, but he didn’t want to be rude and leave. Besides, he thought, they’re trees – how much harm could they do me?
Read the complete story at youngwritersproject.org/node/27142.
By Marina Sprague
Age 17, Chelsea
Late at night,
when the moon is out
and the stars are bright,
I sit here enjoying the cool air
and the sounds of darkness.
My eyes are always transfixed by the sky
as I marvel at its beauty.
At times like this,
I’m grateful for solitude.
The void in me is filled,
and I’m alone but not lonely.
Nature has a way of calming me,
of teaching me to relax
and forget about humanity —
if only for a little while.