The forest was dark, no sound coming from it.  The trees lay on the ground, like fallen soldiers on the battlefield.  Some of their branches reach out for help. The birds yell their battle cry.  The wind howls, getting louder and louder as it hits the leaves. I try not to make a sound, as any could echo through the quiet forest.  As I sit there, I look around. The trees stained with moss like soldiers stained with blood. The smoke coming off my breath like the smoke from a rifle.

There is life all around me, green and full of color.  Also death all around, cold and dark with no color. Some of the trees are full of leaves for protection.  Others lack protection and are hoping to stay standing. For the fallen trees, some have branches sticking up.  Reaching out, like a wounded soldier calling out for someone to help, or to end their pain. The trees still standing can't do anything but watch as their allies suffer, trying to fight their own battles.

 I close my eyes and hear the screams of the trees falling.  The crackling, then the thud of when it hits the ground. Finally, silence. Some trees stand tall, some lied on the ground.  The younger trees, ready to take on the world, do not know the dangers to come or the tasks they will have to face on their own. When the storm hits like a surprise attack, will they give up and become a fallen one, or will they fight back and stand their ground?  Only they know. It reminds me of a quote my father always says. “Fate whispers to the warrior, you cannot withstand the storm. The warrior whispers back, I am the storm.”

The feeling that surrounded me when I first sat down to write was very dark, melancholy, and somber.  Now that I sit here and take a harder look around, there is more than just darkness. The sun peeking through the trees, like a shy boy hiding behind his mother.  The bird’s screams turned into soothing songs. All around me I could see new life blossoming up. This isn't so bad I guess. Sometimes there is a rainbow after the storm.