My Woods

Crash! Trees were falling. Grrum! They were being sawed up. Beep, Beep, Snap! Trucks came to haul them away. Snapping twigs and crushing plants as they came.

All this to build a house. When before it was a place of beauty, peace, and fun. A place to play without danger. Where trees killed by bark beetles still stand stabbing the sky. While tiny spruce trees poke up from the weeds feeling proud they’ve gotten that far. Where I would pick little plants and lay them on logs like displays. Like arrangements of texture and color, but only to do the same the next day since the moose think my displays are lunch. I loved it there. It was my playground.

Until one day I was heading for the woods and I heard a noise: grumble, grumble. My mom came out to the deck and said, "Don’t go too far back. There is a bulldozer clearing a spot for a house!" BULLDOZER! HOUSE! I was angry, but there was nothing I could do. I didn’t go back there that day. The next day they were sawing up my fallen logs and cutting down more. Then they started building.

One tree that was blown over by the wind was still alive. It had many green leaves every summer. They cut that up and they knew it lived.

They haven’t completely destroyed my spot yet, but once somebody moves in it will be their back yard. It will be grass, plain, simple grass. It’s gone. My woods are gone forever. Not completely gone for a little still remains. The soul of my woods is gone. Now the house is finished. The house is sold. My woods are sold.

As I search for new woods I remember those long summer days in the woods where trees killed by bark beetles still stand stabbing the sky and tiny spruce trees poke up from the weeds. I remember the woods that held part of me. My woods.

Creative Writing Contest

2001 winners