The Forest

year 10, St Kevin’s College

ON most days, the forest is teeming with life.

With the sun high up in the heavens, it gazes down upon its subjects, providing their usual daily needs.

It offers them light, warmth, energy — and food in some cases, if you’re a plant.

Various birds soar high above in the sky, singing their joyous melodies, or hobble along the ground minding their own business.

The trees stand tall and mighty, sheltering those who inhabit the forest, while the young fight for a spot in the sunlight, as the shadows offer nothing but inevitable death.

The early predators lurk around corners, waiting for prey to pass by, gulping or crushing their captures.

Then there’s the constant rip of fresh grass as the grazers feast on the fields, often braying their satisfaction, while always alert in their surroundings.

If you zoom in closer, you can see tiny caterpillars crawling up a branch, or the tiny droplets that slide across the leaf before it splashes on the surface below it.

Or maybe the familiar sight of an ant or two, before whole groups emerge from the grounds within as they march, march, march like an army along the area, surveying and scavenging for food, destroying — obliterating — those who oppose it.

As the animals occupy themselves, the view around remains as breathtaking as can be; rows of endless trees varying from numerous shades of green to ones that are coated in brown or red.

Blue rivers form like veins among the landscape, with occasional leaps from fishes.

If you listen closely, you can hear the cacophony of sounds moulded together by nature and its inhabitants.

The mountains and valleys shape the lands, creating the ominous feeling that you are small, compared to this magnificent world. Very small.

Dark times often visit this world and the mood around it changes.

Storms with catastrophic damage and floods with great strength, threaten it.

The birds dart off in different directions, crying out in panic, seeking shelter; flying is as much of a risk as the warplanes in the world wars.

The predators and hunters in the wild become the hunted, whimpering as they soon realise the true kings of the jungle; they scamper helplessly among the trees and rocks.

The trees bend and dance uncontrollably, often snapping from the great force.

The animals’ screams of panic seem worthless, as the roar of the clouds drown their cries.

As the destruction continues, the mood reflects the weather.

Reality reveals its true self.

The trees that once sheltered, become a hazard.

The sun that was once a source of warmth disappears.

Darkness surrounds the lands, and every so often lightning flashes — paving a path before it disappears, leaving them blind once more.

Rivers overflow, the winds sweep away those who are not careful.

Signs of life deteriorate as they mourn for their loss when the monster is gone.