"Being a good writer is 3% talent, 97% not being distracted by the internet." Cyrus Farivar

Thursday, February 24, 2011


            The long sunny days were already becoming a distant memory. Harvest season was steadily approaching; bringing with the onslaught of frost. She stood on a hill observing the trees. Some leaves were already starting to change. Soon streets, sidewalks, parking lots, and school grounds would be littered with the leaves. Her eyes wandered to the horizon as the sun started to slip below, leaving the stars and clouds behind. Inhaling deeply, she exhaled slowly; every cloud above shuddered, before starting to pull into a large mass.
            Moments went by before they were at last together. Reaching up, her hand brushed the plume, sending it across the valley. Arms crossed, Fall waited. It took seconds before the clouds blurred and drops began to descend. She stood, protected from the water as it cascaded around her.
            Tonight was simple; only the beginning really. In a matter of days, rivers would flood, thunder would roll, and trees would bend. Her plan was set; it was just time to wait. This weather would not let up anytime soon. Children would have to remain indoors; people would rush with umbrellas or jackets. No one truly appreciated her work. With the destruction she caused, it was no wonder Fall got the feeling people looked forward to Spring and Summer.
            Her fun would arrive soon enough. It was that chilly night children would masquerade and receive candy. Observing the parade was Fall’s favorite activity of her work. A smile graced her fa├žade as she mused of the pumpkins that would adorn stoops.
            Finally moving from her hilltop, she strolled to Winter’s meadow.

No comments:

Post a Comment