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I had never seen a more beautiful February morning, as dreary as February is, this particular morning was bright, crisp, and the air was lacking the usual smog and smell of a stale rain. I walked through that frosted field with a purpose, quickly, steadily. I knew my mother would be calling me for breakfast with in the hour, and I had to reach my destination before then. I was headed for a hill, one of the only hills around. And on that hill stood a large oak tree. The tallest and most magnificent tree I had ever seen. It was my haven, my refuge from all of my trails and tribulations. That oak tree was one of my only friends it seemed, and I visited everyday. I told it all of my secrets, my hopes, my dreams. That tree was a great listener, I would climb high in the branches and read, or simply watch the sun go down. But today I merely stood there in awe of it's towering bare branches I smiled, and shuffled home, already eager to return. That night, it stormed. The thunder thudded against the roof of our small farm house; and the rain threatened to break the windows. I stayed awake for hours watching the lightning dance across the sky. FInally as the storm subsided my eyes closed, and I slowly drifted to sleep. The next morning was dreary, and thick, the air saturated in rain water from the previous night, and the cold bitter wind whipped around my reddening face. I ran across that old field, and as a approached the top of that hill I was greeted with the bitter scent of burning wood. I stood, frozen in place, and gazed upon my beloved friend now a pathetic pile of charred bark, and branches. I slowly walked closer, holding back tears I sat down and took a handful of the tree that once stood so tall. I now sobbed uncontrollably, and to the remains of the oak tree, that knew all of my deepest secrets I whispered,"What am I going to do now?"
I jolted awake as the first bit of air leaked into my lungs. I found myself choking as I was frantically gasping for more and more but my throat wouldn’t allow it. As I proceeded to calm myself down I began to take in my surroundings. My attempt to sit up was rejected by a stern grip that lacked a face to accompany it. I began to feel the same motion sickness as I do when I take off in an airplane but my efforts to calm my stomach ceased. Before me, a creature with blue skin and glowing green eyes told me that I was being taken to the hospital after I fell and cut my knee- after all, that’s what I told my mother needed to happen.
Said he with the spectacles, knowledged and wise: "A story for me you shall write in no more than five scores of words." "It shall be done," replied they, admiring and awed by his decree, and they dispersed to appease him."What shall we write?" they puzzle as feisty disquietude gnaws at their minds. "His will be done."And it shall be. The chronicles of their sprightly minds will douse him like a ewer containing all of the Fountain of Youth, and revelation shall spew frothy and warm from every mind like an ancient geyser....And he with the spectacles, knowledged and wise, shall declare all to be well. But has he himself made discovery, or has its taste perhaps become one he has accustomed to, and only for they does it still bear that sweet tang?