The child glided through long waving grasses, grasses that flickered and danced like fire in the setting sun. A small breeze was pushing its way through the air, just a puff of breath that caused the small girl’s cheeks to grow the slightest bit rosy, and her soft blond curls to sway gently about her little face.
On she walked, her sandaled feet making hardly any noise, her eyes casting their gaze out all around her at the large field which spread for miles, until it was abutted by a small house -her house- to the east, and the great, looming mountains to the west. There was no buzzing of bees, no chirping of birds, as she passed, for they had all fled this silent field, afraid of the power that the quiet bestowed upon the land.
After a few minutes, the girl’s footsteps slowed, and then stopped. Stopped in the middle of the plain. She breathed in and out and looked at her surroundings. She had some upon a small oasis in the field -although perhaps oasis is not the right word, for the field was already a beautiful paradise. Here the grasses were clipped short; they were small and green and neat, like a carpet beneath the girl’s feet.
In the middle of the oasis was a tree. It wasn’t terribly tall; and its branches were thick and knotted and twisted; not in an unnatural way, though, but in a starkly natural one. Large green leafs burst from the tips of the branches, accompanied by small fruits, fruits that were red and sweet, and melted on the tip of your tongue. Their vibrant hues were even richer in the setting sun, as the golden rays enhanced their color, making them richer and royaler than ever before.
Dangling from one of those strong branches was a bench: that swang in the wind when it blew so harshly; whose white paint faded, peeled, and curled in hot summer sun; whose seat was stained by piles of snow that fell in the frigid winters. The girl, smoothing her light blue, airy dress that hung off her frame like petals on a flower, sat down upon the bench, crossed her legs in a lady-like way, and looked about.
The sun had now reached the tips of those great mountains, and its light trickled like molten chocolate down the snowy mountain caps and the sparse stone sides which were a barrier to this field, which protected it from all harm. The girl gazed peacefully out at her fiery realm of grasses; up at the indigo sky which appeared so tangible it seemed to drip its hues to earth; and, most importantly, up at the tree, with its little red fruits. She smiled a soft smile, let the sweet air cocoon her, and the rays of sun lick her face, and the breeze tousle her hair, and reached up, fingered one of the berries, and let its taste erupt quietly on her tongue, and spread its warmth all throughout her.