AP English Essay
December 18, 2012
Protruding willow trees take what’s left of our privacy. Now hollow and strained with pain from the endless annoyance of reckless children reaching for each weary branch every summer. A repeated echo rings throughout the fields of laughter and a sense of something new always happening. People come in many, but leave in few, days on end. Green is in abundance in the jungle that is the open fields. It becomes silent with a hum of resistance to stay a victim of the ongoing wreck of nature. The wind screeches against every loose branch and whistles through the thick strands of green and brown rushing into a visitors veins. The valley is an siren calling my name, luring nature as it’s bait. Choughs retreat from the caws of birds inhabiting this lifeless valley of lost hope. My dogs’ herculean bark towering over the eerie gray sewer-like stream.
When it rains, the water fills the field with a sense of remorse and leaves that are lifeless to the oncoming stampede of raindrops. The sky gets gray and stands above all, the umbrage takes over the field simultaneously. The night and the rain mix like glitter on a stage when the spotlight shines on it. The green is now gray and muddy. The sun is barren hiding behind the clouds of an intimidating hue of black. The rain itches my hair in thousands, and mine not alone. He shakes the rain off of his fur in a swift convulsion, the black and white freckles becoming drenched in the cries of the grass to be green again. These are my hills and my field, these are my home.
But, what was my home is more than what is seen to the common eye. It’s a vile gossip nation full of lies and deceit. It’s a deteriorated branch of the dying willow tree being stomped upon with new Nike sneakers. It’s a matter of time that no hand can concept, it’s a burden of the heart to stray too close as it is a black hole of unhappiness. Every bit of...