Global Classroom Creative Writing Anthology 2015
Autumn in the South
Beauty in the Dark
Hundreds of fallen leaves were scattered across a damp meadow, covering the wilted grass like a calico coat of oranges, yellows, and reds. Hanging high above, the last of
its brethren held ever so lightly to the silver tinged branches of an ancient sycamore. The sycamore had remained there like a loyal soldier standing at attention through
the changing seasons, through the harsh winter, the mellow spring time, and the blazing summer... Finally the fall had arrived again like all the years before. The winter was
approaching; the area soon to be a barren landscape instead of a lush green place for the deer to frolic.
Here she was, at the remains of the human race, at the place we used to call home. Our world had been destroyed by us, by Global Warming; but that wouldn’t stop
beauty reviving on earth.
As the chilly northern breeze flowed through the tree tops, its dry leaves fluttered as if they were dancing a mountain jig in the wind. The wind sounded like faint whispers
and whistles.
A single fawn stands and eats the last strands of the green grass. Her small dark speckled brown fur protecting its fragile body from the cold. Missing her mother, she is
lonesome and unsure. In the spring the fawn would have taken its first steps in this same meadow. The flowers blooming as it took place, bright geraniums and dahlias. Its
mother by its side. The flowers now have wilted and fallen off their stems, a slow death; some still hanging on for a little bit longer but without their vibrant colors.
The sun is hidden behind the clouds, but will soon have to show itself for the sunset. The owl hoots, sitting on his branch on one of the trees, waiting for the sun to set. His old,
greyish-brown feathers shiver from the cold as he thinks of how hard the winter will be. He thinks of all his past winters as he has had many by the looks of him. The squirrels