The waterfall echoes into existence,
filling in the blank environment all around. Out from its rocky base,
a brook swims away, babbling a song all the way out of sight. Mossy
rocks stand out from it, stepping stones for playful sorts. They
continue on, disappearing among the forest's many tall pine trees and
low bushes. This part of the forest is familiar, like something out
of a dream, unreal yet made from the real.
The sun shines through the needles and
odd leaves onto the orange forest floor. Birds chirp and sing in the
canopy above. Blue jays, mostly, but some unfamiliar calls as well.
With the mystery birds out of sight, it's easy to imagine what they
might look like up there. Bright yellow feathers mixed with a bold
red head. Long and narrow, but not predatory, mostly feeding on the
berries that grow on the edges of the woods.
A little striped chipmunk hops up onto
a mossy rock. It looks around for something to eat, as they always
seem to be. He scurries down and sniffs his way through the pine
needle sea. Every now and then, he stops and stuffs something into
his cheeks. After a little while, his cheeks look comically enlarged.
He takes one final look around, and disappears back into the woods.
A breeze floats by. The waterfall
gently crashes down. The brook babbles. The birds sing. Peace finds a
home.
-Zero
