Poetry & Creative Writing

Sunset

The embers of the jade sunset filtered through the gaps in the gentle, rustling canopy of ash trees, creating a unique ambience. The rug was stretched out on the emerald sharp blades of grass as the wind whipped her fronds of sandy hair. She stared into the distance at the verdant rolling hills and the graceful birds flapping their wings like books opening and closing, still unsure of telling their story to the world. Slowly, she stood up and folded the straw rug neatly into four segments and rather nonchalantly, shoved it into the bottom of her creased backpack, and closed the Velcro strap. She stood up, sighed, and trudged on into the distance.

The gentle colours of early evening were slowly fading into night as the layers of blue, green, and orange filtered into the pale amethyst of twilight as the wind swirled around the trees as if whispering secrets to the wilderness. She unclipped a rusty carabiner from the strap on the bag and took a swig of metallic water from her dented, metal flask, relishing the taste in her mouth as it soothed the dryness of her parched throat. She had been walking for hours now and although the emptiness of the bleak horizon didn’t fill her with boredom, her blistered feet were starting to pain her and she felt a prickle of lethargy at the back of her neck, spreading itself across her tired body. With this being a sign to rest, she found a slightly shaded tree at the base of the cream-coloured cliffs and picked some berries off a nearby bush, collecting them into her leatherbound hat, their smooth surfaces shining iridescently in the pale light of the evening. She left them by her bag and went to fetch water.

When she finally trudged back to her belongings with the water, there was no sight of the hat. A feeling of apprehension overcame her and slowly but surely, she reached for the rusted penknife tucked under the base of her frayed trousers. She unfolded the blade and held it tightly in her fist, her knuckles turning white. Suddenly, a sharp cry pierced the calm air and she looked up into the tree, where the answer to the missing hat lay. A small, furry creature with short-tufted ears was poised on a skinny branch which was precariously wobbling under its weight and in its paws, it clutched what was left of the berries, its fluffy face smeared with red and purple. She stopped in her tracks trying not to alarm the creature whilst in her head feeling slightly disappointed that her dinner had been sabotaged. The creature which looked to be some sort of squirrel, curiously scampered down the trunk, the peeling bark of the tree being sliced off by its short, sharp claws. It scurried up to her feet, outstretched its palm, and offered the slightly unappetising leftover berries to her. For the first time in her life, she felt a sense of belonging and took the berries out of the creature’s paw.