Release - Short stories and poetry

Falling

The whispering of the wind swept swiftly through the trees, blowing and shaking the withering leaves. Everything was dying, but yet it seemed too beautiful to be true. The yellows were brighter than the sun, shining like gold, stretching and invading the green like a plague. As the wind blew harsher the leaf grew darker, from a yellow to an orange, an orange so deep and captivating that it made the leaves look more alive, even though they were at death's door. Many moons later, a dark enchanting red splashed its way through the leaves, taking over everything that once was, chasing away the yellow for good, invading the orange like a virus, wiping it away until it was nothing but an elegant memory.

But, even the red was beginning to fade, those many nights later, as a new color takes over, a color that isn't pretty nor elegant, but rather symbolizes the end is near for the leaf, that very soon, it would die for good. Brown eats the reds and yellows and oranges, devouring them like an animal that hasn't eaten in days. The ends shriveled inwards, dying slowly and painfully, awaiting the brown to fully take over and send it to rest. The stem grew weaker, hardly able to hold itself on the branch, its life giving branch, the branch it spent its eternity on.

A wind blew silently through the trees, and the stem finally let go, letting itself free, drifting quickly away into the breeze. It ventured far but carefully, and, what seemed to be cautiously, fell to the ground, landing softly in the grass next to many others that had fallen days or weeks before. The sun shone warmly, casting long but friendly shadows across the field where the leaf lay.

A small young girl, who looked around the age of five came giggling and smiling through the tall waving grass. Her gorgeous blonde hair fell tumbling down her mid-back, her small curls were bouncing from side to side as she happily bounced along. Her bright mysterious and playful eyes glittered in the sunlight, mischief written all over her face. Her dress was down to her knees, its purple color stuck out like a sore thumb in the grassy field, drawing attention of a few nearby rabbits.

She stopped short and stared at the leaf that had just made its descend moments before, and picked it up with delicate hands, hands so soft, softer than silk itself. She ran her fingers across the dark brown veins, touching every crack and imperfection. Her blue eyes searched the leaf carefully, observing and watching like an eagle watching its prey. The little girl smiled and stuffed the leaf in her pocket, gracefully spinning around and going back the way she had came, towards the place where she called home. The place where she too one day would turn a beautiful bright yellow, than a captivating orange, and a deep red, then wither like the intoxicating brown that no creature on earth could shake. And she too would fall, she would fall gracefully, landing on the ground so softly, softer than a feather from a newborn duckling.

For now, she was green, a new leaf that had just sprung, a new leaf with many adventures and sights and experiences ahead of her. She had a whole life left to live, many more reasons to explore the world and change it for the better. Still, she carried the leaf with her, wherever she went, attached like a baby to its mother, claiming that only good luck came from the leaf that had died many years ago, but it was still around. Its legacy and meaning stayed, even after it was gone, its life taken away by the wind, gone but surely never forgotten.