Young Writers Project

The Life and Times of a Tree

By Sarah Stafford

Grade 8, Stowe Middle School

The wind comes down from the mountain and into the valley where I am, 30 feet from a roaring river with the perfect amount of sun and water. The wind comes down and brushes through my leaves. 

It’s a peaceful life as a tree; little animals feeding on my fallen apples. I’ve never moved an inch, but I’ve seen and heard a lot for a tree. As the air gets cooler, the rest of my apples fall off and rot below me. I notice a lot more birds at this time looking for food.

As winter approaches, my leaves turn colors and die. Fall passes quickly if you’re watching leaves fall. It starts to turn to a grey, cold sky. There aren’t as many animals to talk to in winter… The creatures of the forest are my friends. They tell me all about their adventures and the only thing I can give back is some shelter from rain. For the birds, though, I can provide a home…

To read the complete story, go to youngwritersproject.org/node/88009.

Spray

By Mackenzie Bruce

Grade 6, Stowe Middle School

She sits up slowly and looks at her face in the mirror. I see myself on top of her head, just like every morning. I am in a messy bundle of knots and twists with a fading layer of yesterday’s coating of hair products still suffocating me.

Next, as always, she reaches her arms up, yawns, then pulls herself out of bed and smacks her alarm clock in annoyance. The alarm clock goes silent, putting a happier appearance on her face. The final moments before the worst part of my life.

She walks slowly like a zombie over to her bathroom with a glower at the remembrance of going to school. I once again meet myself in the bathroom mirror. There is no other way I can explain what I see than monster.

Allow me to pause a moment. You may have figured out that I am the hair on a girl’s head. The job I have is good — yet at the same time — terrible. Every morning I get every hair product ever seen sprayed right on to me, draping me in sticky, revolting globs of goop.

I still love my girl, though. The best moments she has lived through, I have lived through, too. We grow together, adventure together, and experience everything together. Every breathing moment of her life has been mine as well. I can explain our relationship as “bumpy” for all the good and bad I watch from my perch on her head…

To read the complete story, go to youngwritersproject.org/node/87851