I feel the soft splash of the waves on the ocean. The repetitive motion has always been soothing for me. The shiny water, like a mirror, reflects my mopey expression. The sun is shining, the seagulls are calling, and the water is calm, but it seems unlikely compared to my inner feelings. I grasp the sides of my boat and shut my eyes. ‘None of that. You're fine, everything is good', I tell myself, but even my own words feel fake. The fact that it was my birthday only made the grief sting more. I've really always been solo. No one to count on, no place to call home.

Suddenly, a gray cloud appeared in the sky. Then, there is a flash. Not slow, but quick. Like the sky was swinging a blade at the ocean. It could only be one thing...lightning. That meant a storm was forming...and when there's a storm, the waves get big. I can only begin to imagine the dark waves swallowing me up whole. I shudder, and a blast of adrenaline rushes through my body. I needed to escape. The water was getting choppier by the second. The rain started up, and was starting to fill my boat. A sudden gust of wind sent me hurdling across my boat, stumbling to find my balance. Then, I saw it. A wave. Filled with bitter hate. Triggered by one's own loss to destroy others. I feel queasy. The nearing waves wouldn't hesitate to strike a boat as small as mine. They got closer and closer as I braced myself for impact. My little boat was far too slow to outrun the waves. The last thing I see is the silky appeal of the water...way too close to my face.

*GASP*
The water just kept moving in its unfeeling, cruel reality. Why do people look to the sea and think ‘safe' when in reality the ocean is humanity's worst enemy? It killed my parents. My hands shake as I tread through the ice-cold water.

A foggy formation muddles into my view. As I swim closer, I realize that I'm near a rocky shore of an island. I get onto the shore, the rocky grey sand seeps in between my toes. The cloud of fog clears so I can get a good look of the environment. I see tall, swaying trees, and as my eyes trace them down towards the ground, I notice piles of sharp rocks.

"HELLO? Is anyone there?" I shout as my voice echoes eerily in between the mountains. There was no answer.  
I'm here alone with no way to escape. I'll die out here, and no one will even know. 
I cry in short, choked sobs, only letting out a fraction of my sorrow.  

No one...no one will know...  

As I open my eyes, I feel the tears streaming down my face. They feel hot and heavy, like tar. I take a deep breath and walk into the forest. I settle down in a cranny in between some trees and curl myself up into a ball.   
After many minutes, I finally get up. The foggy air is thick and heavy. I carefully step into the forest of trees dancing in the wind. 

I notice a small bush, full of orange berries. The berries looked alluring. My stomach growled. They looked too good to be true. Before I could stop myself, I lunged towards the bush, grasping just a few of the berries and stuffing them in my mouth. The sweetness was satisfying, and my hunger instantly melted away. The soft flesh of the berries stuck to the roof of my mouth, making the flavor stay even longer. I let out a sigh of relief. I journeyed to the pond to get a drink of water. As I bend down to take a sip, a wave of nausea hits me. I fall instantly.

Ughhh...

My stomach twists and I don't understand why I feel so sick. The berries didn't taste bad...so why?

I close my eyes and suddenly I'm little again, walking through the forest with Mom. I can almost feel her hand holding mine, warm and steady. We stop near a bush with bright orange berries, and I reach out for them, curious. Mom's voice cuts through the memory, firm and sharp: "Not those. Never those. They'll make you sick."

The picture fades, but the words stick. My eyes fly open, and my heart thuds hard in my chest. The berries I just ate - they were the same ones. As I start to stand up, my vision blurs. My hands start to shake and my stomach aches so bad I can barely move. The last thing I see is the beautiful view of the trees from underneath before my vision fades and light becomes dark. I awake to the sound of waves crashing against the rocky shore. 
"Ughhh...I feel terrible", I moan.

Did I really black out? What would have happened if I didn' t wake up? I realize that my heart is pounding so hard that it's practically trying to 
escape my chest.

Each step feels heavy. I notice the light breeze blowing through my ratty, tangled hair. The moon is a sliver as small as my fingernail. The stars float in the sky like glowing, unblinking, sky eyes. As I gaze into the sky I begin to wonder if I'll ever have a place to call home. I settle in a pile of tree debris, and cover myself with as much as possible.

 

I close my eyes, with a feeling of fear sitting in my gut. I start to doze off in the almost too-quiet forest by myself. The forest blurs, my eyelids flutter, and soon I am pulled to sleep like heavy waves.

It started with flashes of light.

Then a voice—too subtle to be human.
I struggle, trying to get someone to let go.
The feeling of panic sets in.
I see a figure walking towards me.
The creature isn't human.
It never was.
It slithers and crawls towards me. 
I see its terrifying body, with limbs outstretched.

I try to scream, but all that comes out is an empty breath of air.

It whispers something in a raspy, rotten voice, urging me to come closer.

I try to stop it, but a force drags me forward.

 

I am right in front with its twisted, horrible face growling and wheezing.

The creature lunges at my face and my heart skips a beat.

I wake up in a cold sweat. Breathing hard. Heart pounding. Clutching my chest. My whole brain is in absolute panic mode. I take a deep breath to calm myself. I feel slightly reassured that the whole scene was a dream, but I can't shake the feeling that the creature was actually there. The whole thing felt too real.

As I emerge from the dusty pile of leaves, I notice something new. I see an old, sepia colored oak tree, standing tall with countless branches reaching into the sky. It's old, maybe even ancient roots stretch deep into the rich soil like gnarled fingers. The tree is rooted. It's not going anywhere, unlike me, a drifting, tattered leaf, never belonging and designated to crumble before finding a place to rest. I feel tears welling up in my eyes. Instead of blinking them back, I let them fall.

By the time the sun escapes from the maze of trees, I'm shaking. Hard. I really don't have anyone.

I walk over to a thicket of trees, and I bend to sit down under the oak tree. As I am, I feel a sharp stab of pain from under my leg. I quickly jump up and realize that it's an acorn. It fell from the tree, but it's a survivor. I pick up the shiny medallion.

I notice its smooth surface as I rub the auburn trophy with my thumb. 
Another acorn falls, this time on my hand. I pick it up. This one is green, tossed down from its home by the tree out of pure spite. Even though the objects I am holding really don't feel things, seeing these acorns tugs on my heartstrings. Without thinking, I stand up. I know what I'm going to do.

Using my calloused, torn hands I dig a vast trench in the grimy dirt. With a sudden thrust of my hand, the ground beneath is filled with new, fresh dirt that hasn't seen the sky in years. It was buried by years worth of dissolved rain, ash, and snow.

With my acorn filled hands faltering but outstretched, I delicately place them deep into the newly dug ditch. I carefully spread the dirt over them, making sure they are evenly covered. These acorns have each other. They fell, and the moment they did, they lost everything. No one said anything about how hard life would be. It won't be easy, but now, after waiting so many wretched, desperate years, they can finally have a place to grow. They were mistreated, tortured by life, but maybe in the midst of their own misery they can find peace.

 

But we aren't talking so much about the acorns now, are we?