My seasonal Cycle

tbahh

I'm just after posting this in the Write Club butseeing as it's quite empty, I've decided to post it up on here. Feedback appreciated











[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]My Seasonal Cycle[/FONT]


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[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]I witness it all. Everything around me repeats itself, like a cycle. My withered bones bear the signs that I have aged. My bushy hair has fallen off and I stand here in a thick white blanket. My skin has been ripped off, revealing my naked body. Everyone has left me. Again. They have departed, going to my supposedly far off descendants to find shelter. I am here, alone, in the middle of this putrid terrain, isolated from everything. The bitter cold has surrounded my corpse, yet my volatile mind remains active. I am separated from my Utopia, rooted to this wasteland. They are so lucky to be footloose. I must stay here for all of my tedious life to witness this horrible monstrosity. Oh, the humiliation of being a tree.[/FONT]


[FONT=Times New Roman, serif] The thunder roars, the lightning strikes, the clouds are filled with rage. They hail all their anger down on me. The ice pellets are fired against my weakened body. I shout at them for more, begging for them to knock me over, to release me from this misery. The floods of water drown me, soaking my bones, quenching my thirst, forcing me to live on in this horrific environment. No-one notices that I suffer. No-one recognises my pain. Nobody cares about me. I try to fall asleep, but this wretched weather will not permit it. Oh, how I would love for a lumberjack to just cut me down and turn me into strips of wood where I could simply burn. What a joy that would be. [/FONT]


[FONT=Times New Roman, serif] I beg to those above to free me from this monotony. Please end this cruel torture. All I am to you is a fly, you filthy wanton boys. I do not wish to exist for your sport and leisure. I want to move from this shoddy ground but you have glued me. I hear your laughs, you point your fingers at me, saying 'Look at the stupid tree. It tries to move'. You are all cowards, you hide, afraid to leave your dull lives. All you can do is make fun of me. Ha ha, you are all fools. Oh Yggdrasil, father tree, you have it too easy. Daily visits, warm climate and a celebrated monument, you are more a pet than a tree. You really have no idea. And then, my prayers are answered.[/FONT]


[FONT=Times New Roman, serif] It gleams its golden delight down on me. How delightful to be back. The sky is transparent turquoise, the clouds are no longer grey. I feel my skin growing back, the warmth heating up my now shielded body. My arms are covering themselves with gorgeous green leaves. My family will be coming home soon. My rooted neighbours are now returning. The new class of grass has arrived, each becoming one of my disciples. I see multitudes of flowers up ahead, the wind helping them to bid hello to me. The hedges have been cut looking rather dashing, no longer the ugly bushes that they were. Then, I hear the faint flapping of wings. [/FONT]


[FONT=Times New Roman, serif] I am the bird's true home. Upon their arrival, the fathers quickly gather debris, building the family home. The pregnant wives arrive soon after. Their sweet serenades are echoed in this marvellous meadow. They gossip to each other with their 'coos' and 'caws' while the fathers unite in the hunt for food. Their language is incomprehensible but fascinating to hear. Then, the little eggs appear. What an extraordinary image this is, becoming better when the crack occurs. They cry for their mothers, their beautiful wails are so pure. It is truly amazing when a mother lays eyes on her child for the first time. Oh, how lucky I am to witness this. [/FONT]


[FONT=Times New Roman, serif] My other family members have returned too. I feel the squirrels climbing up on me, tickling my body. Their maroon fur dazzles in the sunlight. The bees have also come back, their black and yellow coats looking so trendy. I see one of them buzz around a blooming golden daffodail, searching for nectar. The rabbits hop in, their teeth nibbling on the lettuce leaves. The cows have made their debut, the calves remaining in close proximity to the mothers. One little calf is distracted by a fly, shaking its head back and forth, to usher it away. It accidently hits another calf, resulting in a push from its parent. [/FONT]


[FONT=Times New Roman, serif] It is much warmer now. The sky is clear, not a cloud to be seen. The sun's rays have heated up my body, causing me to sweat profusely. The little birds are taking their first steps. It's hilarious to see them fall flat on their faces. They are resilient though, eventually succeeding. A flock has gathered, each of them taking pride in their stride. One bird, with sparkling ruby feathers, struggles to walk. The others notice this, and mock it. However, this little bird becomes the first of them to fly, ascending to the top of my head, its stentorian squeak heard everywhere. How lovely to see such beautiful animals discover life. It's wonderful€ to be part of this community. Then, the darkness sets in. [/FONT]


[FONT=Times New Roman, serif] It shines its silver thoughts down on us. Its glow has illuminated the surrounding area. The stars twinkle, keeping watch over us. The little calves are sleeping comfortably against their parents. The small birds are snoring, their bodies expanding and contracting. I see a mother petting her little baby, realising that everything will start to change soon. I hear the hooting of owls, singing its sombre soliloquy. The cricket's creak reverberates throughout the field. The foxes run through, their fiery fur reflected in the moonlight. One fox examines a calf attentively, analysing its radiance and beauty, before hurrying away after spotting a delicious hare. A frog hops by, its linear tongue flips into the atmosphere, wrapping around a scrumptious fly. It retracts, the frog's throat dilates and swallows the prey. Oww. I feel a sharp pain. [/FONT]


[FONT=Times New Roman, serif] I look st the ground where the frog had just laid itself and there lies one of my leaves. I can feel the stinging pain. The feeling of it disconnecting from my body is unbearable. I knew it would happen soon but not this soon. Not right now. Now when everything is going right. The squirrels know it is coming as well. They are anxious, and have already made plans to leave. I see the run away without a goodbye. Useless rogues. The others are still here, not like those cowardly squirrels. You are afraid of a little chill. You do not know what it is really like. The clouds have become angry again, a tint of grey presents itself. It unites and a war breaks out between them and the sky; the former are the winners. The rain returns, more mischievous than ever, enjoying the havoc it creates for us. You are a futile entity. I hate you so much. [/FONT]


[FONT=Times New Roman, serif] The cows and calves have left. The tractor came, escorting them to some shelter, emptying my decaying field. My disciples have become brown and useless, not green and vibrant anymore. The flowers have died, no longer swaying vigorously. They have shrivelled up, becoming hostile and bleak. My skin has now commenced to fall off. It rips itself off, exposing my naked body. I become barer every day. I am truly the barer of bad misfortunes. The young birds have now mastered the art of flying. They are ready to leave, all of them perched on me before their departure. They rise, their small bodies reaching towards the sky. They have left me. Again. I feel powerless. I must stay here, stuck to the ground, while everyone else can simply leave. I watch the flock fly away and wish for them to all fall, to die. They make no effort to look back at me, not even a farewell. What a cruel world this is. The pain of losing my leaves I can handle but the loss of my family, thst is too much to take in. Mother nature, you truly are a vile demon. You take my family away, you strip my skin off, and humiliate me. I am glad my family will never have to see this dark monster you have made. All is cheerless, dark, and deadly.[/FONT]

Agent Weebley

Hi tbahh,

I really liked it, and you focused nicely where needed and it was well metred. And I learned something about Yggdrasi, and trees, such as the sycamore; I had no idea some trees lost their bark as part of their cycle.

I think you should have started in the summer and left off in the spring to show some hope*, rather than starting with a negative (winter,) going positive (spring,) more positive (summer), then going negative (autumn) . . . but that is just me and my cosine wave / particle theory talking, so take that notion with a grain of salt . . . no . . . sugar.

Please take my following edits as positive suggestions only:

The hedges have been cut[,] looking rather dashing,[;] no longer the ugly bushes that they were. Then, I hear the faint flapping of wings.

[I noticed that I almost thought the birds were the people that cut the hedges. You could easily make the fathers clean up the outside and fix up the family home, then reveal they are actually birds.]

I am the bird's true home. Upon their arrival, the fathers quickly gather debris, building the family home.

. . . stentorian squeak heard everywhere. [Yowch. Stentorian is outside my vocab, so I looked it up . . . you are so cosmo!]

How lovely to see such beautiful animals discover life. It's wonderful€ [sp] to be part of this community. Then, the darkness sets in.

I can feel the stinging pain. The feeling of it disconnecting from my body is unbearable. [Really? I would say 1 leaf is a pinprick feeling, but many can become a crescendo of pain . . . just sayin']

The clouds have become angry again, a tint of grey presents itself. It unites and a war breaks out between them and the sky; the former are the winners. The rain returns, more mischievous than ever, enjoying the havoc it creates for us. You are a futile entity. [what are you referring to by futile entity]

The cows and calves have left. The tractor came, escorting them to some shelter, emptying my decaying field. [a logical tie back into humans again]

The pain of losing my leaves I can handle but the loss of my family, thst[sp] is too much to take in.

*I think hope is the most powerful tool to help people believe we are going to have a better future, even though some people poo-poo a happy ending as being too soppy. Even a flatline ending is better than a negative ending, as a flatline is a natural tail-off . . . fading into the distance as a beginning point to something else, something better . . .

tbahh

I've added my comments to yours in this type style

QUOTE=Agent Weebley;80367107]Hi tbahh,

I really liked it, and you focused nicely where needed and it was well metred. And I learned something about Yggdrasi, and trees, such as the sycamore; I had no idea trees lost their bark as part of their cycle. I'm glad you learned something new. I owe knowledge of that to Michael Scott and his Flamel series

I think you should have started in the summer and left off in the spring to show some hope*, rather than starting with a negative (winter,) going positive (spring,) more positive (summer), then going negative (autumn) . . . but that is just me and my cosine wave / particle theory talking, so take that notion with a grain of salt . . . no . . . sugar.

Please take my following edits as positive suggestions only:

The hedges have been cut[,] looking rather dashing,[;] no longer the ugly bushes that they were. Then, I hear the faint flapping of wings.

[I noticed that I almost thought the birds were the people that cut the hedges. You could easily make the fathers clean up the outside and fix up the family home, then reveal they are actually birds.]

I am the bird's true home. Upon their arrival, the fathers quickly gather debris, building the family home.

. . . stentorian squeak heard everywhere. [Yowch. Stentorian is outside my vocab, so I looked it up . . . you are so cosmo!] Never heard of this band before. I used the word 'stentorian' in one of my leaving cert stories and it has sort of become a staple part of stories

How lovely to see such beautiful animals discover life. It's wonderful€ [sp] to be part of this community. Then, the darkness sets in. Thanks for pointing out mistakes. So easy to not see them during the edit

I can feel the stinging pain. The feeling of it disconnecting from my body is unbearable. [Really? I would say 1 leaf is a pinprick feeling, but many can become a crescendo of pain . . . just sayin'] Here, there is both a physical pain as well as a psychological pain. Although you are right in saying that it's a 'pinprick feeling', the leaf falling to the ground is a reminder of the autumn and ultimately the cold winter that will soon arrive.

The clouds have become angry again, a tint of grey presents itself. It unites and a war breaks out between them and the sky; the former are the winners. The rain returns, more mischievous than ever, enjoying the havoc it creates for us. You are a futile entity. [what are you referring to by futile entity] This was a bit ambiguous due to the 'a' determiner. The futile entity is referring to the rain

The cows and calves have left. The tractor came, escorting them to some shelter, emptying my decaying field. [a logical tie back into humans again]

The pain of losing my leaves I can handle but the loss of my family, thst[sp] is too much to take in.

*I think hope is the most powerful tool to help people believe we are going to have a better future, even though some people poo-poo a happy ending as being too soppy. Even a flatline ending is better than a negative ending, as a flatline is a natural tail-off . . . fading into the distance as a beginning point to something else, something better . . .[/QUOTE]

Thanks for your engaging reply Agent Weebly

About the ending, I felt when I wrote it that it was stronger to have it end the way it is. You have to remember that it is a seasonal cycle so it will return to being happy again when the spring returns.

Again, thanks for your detailed comments. They provided really insightful feedback

Agent Weebley

Why, thank you for the kudos, tbahh.

I have a confession to make: I have a special relationship with trees. I talk to them, admire them, and tell them how good they look. The places where branches have fallen off are their eyes. They look at me as I pass by. There is an old Maple tree near my friend Steve's place. It protects the mainly Irish graves underneath it; it told me that. It has a 4 foot diameter stubby trunk, gnarly-looking branches and bark, and has a humungous hairdo . . . I will try to get a picture of it for you.

I guess i was being a little contrary about where to start and end, as the seasons are indeed like a Mobuis Strip, and you actually did leave me with the impression that the autumn was not the end.

Well done . . . bookmarked.