Writing Prompt

I’m here helpless, I don’t control my own fate. I rely on some thing else to survive. My fate is determined not by me,but by the things surrounding me. Helpless I hang on to the thin branch that anchors me to the ground. But I’m not alone I have brothers and sisters a like, not in control just like me. Here I sway in the breeze holding on for dear life, what if i let go, would I travel to unknown places, down a rushing river, into a field of daises. Would my life be better if I just let go, and see where the wind takes me.

Stuck on a branch, waiting, wishing to be free. When will I fall and be swept away? When will I float along the Amazon River and hang on the Eiffel Tower? Then the wind came. Is this it? Will I finally fall off my depressing branch? I started swaying. Then, I felt my stem breaking and... whoa! I was flying! But a second later, the humble forest I’ve lived in for 8 years was out of sight. I saw sand, and then a vast ocean below me. Soon, I was lost. And when the storm stopped, I fell gently on the ocean and sunk to the ocean floor. No thrill, only krill. Next time, I’ll be careful for what I wish for.

The winds howled and wailed like gathering of ghosts eerily shouting through the pines. I felt numb. The world around me wouldn’t stop spinning as I was pushed to and fro akin to a ragdoll, the icy air thickening around me and crystallizing on my leathery skin. It made my tips go as white as the sheets on the washing line beneath me.

It wasen’t long until I felt myself slowly pulling away from my tree, like a newborn child being ripped from its mother. I wanted to cry but no sounds came out of my lungs, my eyes already glazing over with frost.

A frantic women came out of the house across from me, sprinting up to the washing line as her red hair, whipped around like burning embers around her head in the powerful breeze. She ripped the clothes from the line and dumped them in the bucket nearby, cursing under her breath.

SNAP.

I felt myself detach from the tree. My path was that of a drunken waltz as the wind carried me towards the ground, unpredictable and fast. I shouted out to the women. No reply.

As the sun sinks beyond the horizon, so does the last day of summer. A gentle breeze begins to blow, reminding all creatures that autumn has arrived.

The leaves begin to transform as the days shorten; their vibrant greens morphing into dull yellows, reds, and oranges. The world is bathed in a soft citrine light which remains uninvited by most.

Some time later a breeze fills the air, whisking each and every golden leaf carelessly to the ground. It is the season in which leaves of all sizes, shapes, and colors come together to die in unity.

So the leaves stumble into piles and huddle together for warmth. They now accept their destruction but want to be together still -- it can be hard to persist without support of one’s companions.

Another month or so passes and all the leaves are devoid of color. Any prior prejudice has been eradicated by the sudden realization that in the end they all face the same evil: death. So, colorless but closer together than ever before, they degrade, returning to their common ground: Mother Earth.

Enfuriated air’s blow whisks against me

Punched in the stomach, I flutter off the tree

Upon the ground I lay,

I was ice cold, now turn green again in May.

Wish I will, wish I might

Once up high, took down a sad flight

Wish enough, all day I do

I’ll never reach the up there, twas at a great height.

I lay molded into the grass

Hoping wind blows me higher than high,

Breeze, the tree I bypass

On my way onward, I shall reach up into the sky.

Blowing harshly, Is the wind, A tumbling leaf, Twisting with grief, The leaf is mad, To leave it’s home But the longer the ride Flying like a crazy drone, The more fun, The sweet freedom, softly gliding, A calming numb.

The leaf knew it was in for a rough day. The wind was in a huff and was puffing and blowing like a bull with a migraine. The leaf also knew it wasn’t alone. Millions of other leaves were in for it too. They all, like it, didn’t want to lose their grip on their master, the tree. They were both master and servant but also one in the same. It’s little known, the leaf mused, that once summer is over and leaves have made energy for the tree to grow that it’s master sucks the life out of every leaf back into the heart of itself. Leaves do not die even though they appear withered and dry but their life force is reabsorbed back into the vast trunk of the tree and their shells fall to the floor where the last vestiges of energy are drawn up by the patiently waiting roots. When spring returns the leaf magically reappears to recommence his duties. Summer wasn’t over so the leaf clung on, desperate to serve its master. It saw others close by torn from their master and it felt their pain and loss. It fought hard against the whistling wind. It’s and millions of other leaves’ efforts rose in a huge cacophony of rustling exertion. The crescendo growing with each gust, waxing with each wane of the wind.

The leaf was tough, it had endured worst. As the wind began to lose its anger and the sun cracked through gaps in the slowly disappearing clouds, the leaf smiled, opened its pores proudly and let the sunlight in. Energy began to pour from the leaf and its master was happy.

I’m tired of all this swoosh and swirl. This wind doesn’t care that I even exist.

It brushed me off my tree, And then pushed me off to random places. Some places are lovely and others are honestly scary.

I swooped through wheels of cars, got caught up on wired fences, Bathed in muddy puddles.

By chance I made some leaf friends. We swirled together in a tornado. Moving specks of dirt as we moved.

It wasn’t long before I was on my own again. The wind likes to push us apart.

I cling to mother as the storm brews. Anxiety begins to build within me as I imagine the reality of detaching from her. Life with mother is all that I know. She was my beginning. She is my nourishment. She is my constant. Since I was a small green bud I have nestled at her fingertips, yet now the wind encircles me and tugs at me with its brutal force. I lift above mother, clinging to her desperately. Mother holds me this time but the wind returns. Mothers branches begin to sway violently and the vibrations are felt by all of her children. Oh mother do not let go! We call to mother but the wind is too strong. I feel myself being pulled again but this time the force overwhelms me. I feel myself being torn from mother, my life line disconnected forever. I am thrown from mother and am taken by the wind. I look back to see her one last time. I am pushed through the storm, occasionally resting at the surface I starred at for my entire life but never dreamed of touching. I would rest momentarily on the earth but I could not mourn for the wind would sweep me back up again and take me somewhere new. This continues until the storm settles. Eventually the wind calms, leaving me at my resting place. My resting place is a quiet meadow. The sun now shows itself behind the once darkened clouds and I feel it beaming down on my face. This place would be peaceful for some but for me it is my grave. The sun that once nourished me now dries me like leather. I feel sad without mother. As the days pass I feel the life being drained from within me. I darken in color until I am nothing but a flaky brown corpse. I eventually break away and dissolve into the earth. Many months pass without me knowing. I was sure my life was over. But then I awaken again. Not as a corpse but as a green bud. I feel renewed, nourished, energized. I open my eyes and see that I am with mother. I look down on the earth and smile. It is inevitable that we will meet again. But knowing that I will someday return to mother puts me at ease. She is, forever, my constant.

The cold wind whistles and howls in the night as I try to cling on to the branches of the big Oak tree, I watch as my brothers and sisters get blown away never to be see again.

All a leaf like me dreams of is living out our lives on our ancient tree, seeing in all 4 seasons and then departing in the midst of winter to float around contently until finally we fall gently to the ground.

Being blown from our branches is not the way for a leaf. It will not be my way!

Another gust of wind and I nearly fall but no need to worry, i think the wind might start to settle and the sun will rise ushering in a brand new day for me the little green Oak leaf.

The wind slows and the cold grows less I think the storm is over now and those that remain could rejoice but when night comes again another storm will follow.

I watch the children who come up to the tree, the talk of the highest branches and which one could get there.

They all attempt to get as high as they can but when one boy reaches my branch night begins to fall and the wind began to whistle.

A gust of wind pushes the boy from the tree, as he falls he grabs onto me and off my branch I come as we fall to the ground.

The wind continues to howl and the rain begins to pour I’m being blown over the hills and far away from my colossal Oak tree.

I see fellow leaves like me some of Oak, some of Birch , Ash and Maples few. I think I might have even seen Willow too.

The sky is dark and the moon is bright, the rain is wet and the wind is cold. I pass over rooftops and rivers.

Will I ever be able to lay upon the ground or back in my tree? Or will I be jumped in by children so small or maybe I’m just destined to float for the rest of my days?

Finally the sun comes up and the wind dies down and finally I float on a branch. I look up and down and smile with glee I’m only back at my beloved Oak tree