Piece # 7 - Untitled story | Teen Ink

Piece # 7 - Untitled story

January 1, 2010
By ISayWeCuddleNow PLATINUM, Bartlett, Illinois
ISayWeCuddleNow PLATINUM, Bartlett, Illinois
21 articles 0 photos 9 comments

Favorite Quote:
This isn't my favorite, but it's a good quote...

"The world needs Christians who don't tolerate the complacency of their own lives." - Crazy Love


I cannot begin to describe how long I have been here. I am alone, and there is nobody else with me. I spend most of my time in the patch of grass which is surrounded by trees that stretch to the sky. Only splotches of light come through the branches to illuminate the black, white, and gray colors of the world around me.

I am suddenly aroused by the crackling of twigs which have so unwillingly fallen from the trees. I turn to my left, and I am face to face with a being, unlike myself, yet similar in so many ways.

“Who are you?” the being asks me.

Surprised I can understand the dialect of this being, I respond. “I do not have a name. Where do you come from?”

“I come from Earth, but I do not know how I got here. Where am I?”

“I do not know where you are. I also do not know where Earth is. I have been here for so long, that I do not remember being anywhere else.”

The being comes closer to me and I see that there is some type of fur coming from the top of its head.

“What are you?” I ask.

“Well, I’m a human being. What are you?”

“I don’t know. But I’m not a human being.”

“That’s apparent.”

We don’t speak for a moment, and the silence is almost deafening. I want to ask him if he wants something to eat, but I’m afraid he won’t like it. Finally, I decide to ask him anyway.

“Would you like some twigs?”

“What for?” he asks.

“To eat. Aren’t you starved?”

“Actually, I am. But I don’t eat twigs.”

“You should try them.”

As I gather some twigs for the human, he stands in the center of the field, constantly turning around. He is trying to take in his surroundings. After I grab a handful of twigs, I go to a tree and extract juice from its insides. I rinse the twigs in the juice and return to the human.

“At least try it,” I say, taking a bite.

He hesitates, and then takes a twig from me. As he takes a bite of the twig, his hand starts to shake and his face contorts in an odd way. He falls to the ground, and I do not know what to do with him. I finally decide to drag him outside this patch of grass, beyond the trees. I toss him onto a pile of beings that look just like him. Have I done this before? I return to the patch of grass inside the circle of trees and sit.

I cannot begin to describe how long I have been here. I am alone, and there is nobody else with me. I spend most of my time in the patch of grass which is surrounded by trees that stretch to the sky. Only splotches of light come through the branches to illuminate the black, white, and gray colors of the world around me.

The author's comments:
For this piece, I had to write in the style of another author. I chose Ray Bradbury's "The One Who Waits" as my inspiration for this piece.

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