Contest Entry (Please no Posting)

[climbing{the}world]

When I was seven my Daddy used to read me bedtime stories. I mean, it was only one in particular. I don’t quite remember the name, but I remember the main idea. It talked about kid stuff, about toys coming alive at night. But back then my Daddy would just skip those parts. He knew I wasn’t interested. He just skipped to the epilogue. It didn’t have much to do with the story, more about the author’s purpose for writing the whole thing. It said that darkness was everywhere. It had to be. Because shadow’s could only be created by light. That meant light was even more immense than darkness and shadow and all of those little evil things were. The first time my Daddy read that one to me I nearly fell asleep during the story. When he asked if I wanted him to finish it, I nodded my head sleepily. A second after he started I was wide awake. I never understood the meaning until a few days later whne I asked him about it. It was beautiful, almost like some kind of poetry. I wished that the author would have written more, but my Daddy said that his other books were old for me. Nothing bad – more for people who could read and understand what was running through their mind. Now I really understand what the author was trying to explain. You might be living in a world of shadow. Every crevice might be filled with blackness, and you might not be able to see anything but the worst things in life. But you’ve got to remember that no matter how much of that shadow that’s around you see, in the end it doesn’t really matter. Because if you find where all of that darkness grows – there will be light.

A bare leaf was being stripped down by a pair of angelically light hands. Each small little wave of leaf that was taken off fell to the ground in a silent death. Not a single sound was uttered. Off in the distance, a few screams could be heard. Another leaf that sat, quivering in shaking in what anyone else would guess to be the wind, atop the tree. It was bright green; the color that represented a time when all of the leaves were like that. When the sun was out and newer, bigger, better things grew. That time was over. Now it just meant sun and green, but nothing ever grew. Believe it or not, the leaf that sat on top on the tree, shaking, was not doing so because of the light breeze flowing gently through the air. No, it was the screams off in the distance. If I had a spine, It thought. I’d have a few chills running up it, now wouldn’t I? Looking down he watched as one of his coexistors tore another leaf apart. I’m too hight to reach. That was something he needed to remind himself each day. But if a strong enough gust came through and he cam unlatched from his tree, surely something would find a way to hurt him.
But for now, He thought. I’m safe up high, surrounded by family. Family that had been living with him for many decades – and yet this leaf was still young. The decades had grown sour along with most of his relatives. Some were dead, some pretended to be, and some sure did act like it. Why? Well, this little leaf had a theory.
About 40 years ago there was some screaming down the street. And then there was fire. And a lot of distant relatives were burned. Those metal things coexistors went around in, and the things that they latched to were soon enough dead and gone. Well, dead, yes. But not gone. Just replaced. These new coexistors… well, this little leaf did not like to believe that he was related to them. These new things didn’t seem alive. Our little leaf didn’t know how to differentiate heartbeats, but when your part of the Earth they’re quite easy to hear. And on that first day our here leaf didn’t hear any. Just osme moaning, and groaning, and the few heart beats left were too far off to hear.
The place our leaves tree lived in was surrounded by houses. To a leaf, they all looked the same, but to you and I it was a nice neighborhood. Nothing bad ever happened. But there had been many people, and now there are many of these new coexistors. Taking shelter here – as a human, mind you – would surely be a challenge. It helps that I’m just a swath of green in the wind, though. Alright, nevermind that – that wind does not help at all. But the tree I was born on, the tree that I live on to this day can hear and see and feel and nearly think and the only thing it’s forgotten to learn is how to touch. The skin on what I can only call corpses – the tree is wise, and taught us human terms other trees could only imagine – most likely is not something very interesting to touch. Though we can all hear through the tree. They had no heart, and no blood is pumping through their veins. The minds of these wandering bodies are cracked and desolate. Empty like the houses around me. And now it was official. Autumn was coming, the time to fall, and I was no longer frightened of being picked up and stripped down to small swaths of green. I was now afraid of becoming one of them.
“Do you hear them? Can you hear them? Do you wish to hear them?” My mind has been working a bit slow. These things were, actually, very frightening. I know I’m safe for now but I can’t help but believe that my mind is not. Nonetheless I nodded very slightly at the first question, the tip of my body quavering. I will not shake my head – not at the second question. I could feel my trees branches creaking, settling deeper into the Earth. It’s roots stretched down further as if trying to touch the Earth’s toes. It was important that the worst did not happen. It was important that we did not fall down. If I, as a leaf, would break off and fall my friends and my love will live on high in the branches. If we all fall we are crushed, dirty, lifeless, and our souls are gone. I quivered again. It was not the wind – for the first time I think a chill just ran down my spine. I wonder if the dead ones are like that, too.
The sun cast it’s utter beauty onto the world. It did not burn my skin, but I could feel a few of my fellow leaves shivering. It was a gentle touch. And at least it was not turning cold yet – that time was always the worst. It’s sort of a long story; the life of a leaf, anywho. In the winter it was true; we would all die. But it was not the same as falling off in the spring or fall. When we would die our bodies would become unattached and we’d futter to the ground. But our minds would remain. What the humans call the stems would remain. Not all of it, but the tiniest little nub. No human being could notice that – most of our body did in fact fall. To your mind it looks peaceful but the fall actually numbs you. These days I’ve been numb anyway. It feels like I’m about to fall – and I do not mean that at all physically.