The first piece of creative writing I did in highschool. Enjoy

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The track was composed of beaten earth covered with years’ worth of dead leaves, bordered by the greenest of ferns. It threaded its way between twisting cabbage trees and tall imposing white pines, going up hills and down hills, sometimes widening into small peaceful meadows with worn, moss-covered wooden seats.

Dawn's ethereal light hit the canopy, but it couldn't penetrate into the lonely darkness below. You could barely hear the sounds of the highway from up here. It was quiet. So quiet that as I stepped onto the winding forest path, my footsteps shattered the silence like delicately spun glass hitting the ground. The birds did not sing. It was as if they had been struck dumb by the cold of the morning and the majesty of a rising sun.

As I climbed up the path I breathed in the fresh, crisp morning air, and cast an eye on my gloomy surroundings as I walked. I began to sing, anything to push back the creeping silence. The melody dropped from my lips and lay dead on the forest floor.  My imagination conjured up glowing eyes that glared at me from the pitch-blackness that loomed under the leafy roof formed by the trees.

I felt like I was intruding on something, something strange and ancient, alien and unknown. Rustles in the undergrowth indicated some nocturnal creature, no doubt making its way home from a night spent hunting for a meal in the dense shadow under the leaves. It was beginning to scare me, and when I got to the end of the long meandering track I ran back down the road, happy to leave.

Now, in the afternoon, it is much different. The canopy is no match for the bright afternoon sunlight, and it pierces the leaves like unearthly spears, illuminating all the lifeless foliage that has fallen from the living greenery in seasons past. It feels natural to be here, and I don't need to use my own voice, because the birds are out in force, each competing to make the loudest chirp.

They are sitting in branches or crunching through the ferns in their multitudes. I cannot hear any other animals over the peeping and chattering of the singers. I've brought my dog along for the walk, and she dashes up and down the track, all curiosity and restless excitement. She is glad to legitimately escape the confines of our back yard, and she's only a tiny bit quieter than the birds.

The atmosphere is light and welcoming. I can see the trees fading off into a bright yellow fog in the distance. The looming shadows no longer cast their depressing cloak of darkness over the woods.

High sunlight banishes all manner of fears.