Chestnut Grove

Beginning of something that I've been working on.

He whapped the clock and rolled onto his back. The sun made its way meekly, patiently, into his room as he stared up at the ceiling, lobbing a sliver of bright morning light onto his tired face"inspiration enough to get up and start the day. Trudging over to his bathroom, yawning and scratching, he reached the shower, leaving a trail of dirty laundry from the side of his bed to the foot of the tub. The warmth of the water relaxed and refreshed him, the shimmering sun poking its way through any place it could, it seemed to be following his every move, and he felt fantastic for the first time in a long while. “Today might not be so bad,” he thought as he dried himself off and changed into his uniform. He had a quick shave and left his place, apple in hand, granola bar in mouth, with a skip in his step which he rarely employed. The elevator shaft was shut down, filled with squirrels and robins again, so he took the stairwell instead. 

Peter emerged from the lobby and looked out across the vast cityforest of Chestnut Grove. He took in the cacophony of the vulgar morning commute down below contrasting drastically with the sweet melodies of the cardinals and chickadees, beating their wings happily just a few yards above the front doorstep. He could see his neighbors from the oaks across the way stumbling miserably out of their treepartments and diving down, not giving even a second glance at the wondrous scenery surrounding them--”Oblivious,” Peter thought, looking around, frowning slightly, “Everyone’s completely oblivious....” Some seemed to be hastening their journey down, raring to descend and start their awful day. Others were bowling down face first as if they had been sleep walking and tripped over a bump in a runner, teetering for a brief moment before tumbling along expressionless, eyes barely open, until reaching the concrete hysteria below. Hank Hopkins from next door got a running start before uttering a war cry and making his dive...as if nothing in this world could’ve possibly excited (or terrified) him more. 

The fragrance of red roses and daffodils flooded Peter’s nose as he stretched, preparing himself for the trip down. He put his apple in his pocket and finished off his granola bar deliberately, soaking in every ounce of abounding beauty that was dripping lushly from the treetops, blocking out the discord below. Every sound, every smell, every sight were nestling themselves harmonically inside of his body. “No reason to hurry,” he whispered to himself. He closed his eyes and smiled.

“How have I never noticed any of this before?” he wondered, his senses dancing. “How was I so oblivious?” 

When he opened his eyes again he became immediately aware of one fact: he could hear the birds no more, the euphoric aroma had disappeared, and the vibrant colors of the foliage and flora became muted grays and blacks...the red roses no longer fresh, the daffodils turning to dust before him. Only the sounds of cars honking and people yelling were audible now...punctuated occasionally by Peter’s heavy breathing. He didn’t know what was happening and he became intensely frustrated. He dove down.

Author's Note

Comments and critiques appreciated. Does it leave you wanting to read more, or is this sufficient standing alone?

Reviews

[roarke]

Good descriptions, nice weaving of the environment, and just enough curiosity to keep the narration moving. It's a bit out of context here, a juxtaposition of the real and surreal, sci/fi? fantasy? a hybrid? To stand alone it needs more context. As a lead into a larger story, it's got a good hook.

[Lagachu]

i liked it.. it was intresting and certainly i want more

[Marie]

This is very good--the theme, the descriptive passages. It might stand alone, but it feels unfinished. I believe you could add to it, not necessarily doing a book, but expanding on the idea of "treepartments" and "diving down".