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Creative Writing: The Tree on Beverly Street, Part 1: Meet Kylie

It was November. As she walked down the street, the leaves wrinkling under her feet, she felt a drop of water. It started to rain. She could not go to the first day of 11th grade soaking wet and looking like a walking wet rag. There was no umbrella in sight, so she ran under a large red maple tree down the street, hoping it would cover her.

“Ugh. I’m still getting wet!” she said loudly.

She was going to be late for her first day of school; maybe she should have taken Corrine’s carpool offer? Corrine liked to go way past the speed limit, so maybe not. If her dad had a working car, he would take her though he probably wouldn’t because he was too busy working on his township commissioner campaign. Her high school was only about a fifteen-minute walk on a good day, but today was not a good day.

Ten minutes later and she was still standing under the large red maple tree. There was nothing to do but wait. To keep herself occupied, she started to examine the tree. The bark was rough, but the maple leaves were as soft as velvet. She kept looking around the tree, trying to find insects and other commodities to keep her occupied.

“Ouch!” something yelled.

“What was that?” she thought to herself. She continued feeling and pulling the leaves, and she heard it again.

“Ouch!!!”

There was no one around. Something poked her from behind- something hard. She turned around and saw one of the tree’s branches on her shoulder.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” said the tree.

There was no person talking…it was the tree! “You’re a…a…a… tree…”

“Yes! I am a tree! You are a HUMAN who has no business poking around!”

She could not believe what she was hearing and seeing; shocked, she didn’t realize it had stopped raining.

“I cannot believe what I’m seeing,” she said, disgruntled.

“Well, believe it! My job is not to protect you from the water falling out of the sky!”

“Sorry for not knowing you had feelings!” she shouted. “Whatever, I can’t believe I am out here talking to a tree. A tree.”

“Aren’t you late for school, Kylie?” the tree whispered.

“How do you know my name? Oh shoot! School!” she exclaimed.

“Pssh. I have seen you walking down Beverly Street ever since you were a young child. Your mother would always-”

Kylie paused a second and stopped the tree from talking, “Please don’t mention my mother.”

Kylie bid farewell to the tree and started running to school, she was already late for her first day of junior year.

Madison Starinieri is a student majoring in English Education and Special Education. MS882527@wcupa.edu

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