Watch The Wind

• Aimee Comas, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2012

It's sometimes wet on the farm, cold and muddy. Twirl and Mud don't mind though, they love it. Sometimes when the whistling wind, doesn't ripple the grass, I go to the tree. He stands tall and proud, he's my friend. No one else can talk to him, just me. As I sit up in his branches, some days he sways me gently, almost taking me to sleep. Other days his twigs seem to be growing, growing fast getting tangled in my hair, as the wind blows a chill down my spine. When I have to say goodbye I feel like never leaving him alone in the storm. He doesn't mind though, he's always got Jemima. She lives in his trunk, she's a squirrel. I love the tree, he saved my life. One day the sky was more grey than usual, he was watching closely. But then it came. The cyclone. I ran to the tree's trunk as the booming clouds came rumbling in. But then someone, something whispered in my ear. "Turn the knob, come in". My heart beating fast I looked from left to right, up and down the trunk, but there was no knob and no one to be seen. Just as the cyclone drew near swishing and swooshing my hair up, something grabbed me, a hand, a particularly furry hand and the next thing I know I was in a small welcoming room, barely the size of a cupboard. I turned my head around scarcely to smell the sweet, nutty smell of oaty slice, as my eyes gazed upon the small shelves filled with boxes of biscuits and jars of marmalade that made me feel at home. Then as I turned my now confused head, I saw gazing into my eyes, Jemima the squirrel dressed in an apron holding her hands together. "Are you all right dear, that really is a nasty storm out there." "Would you care for biscuit?" said her high squeaky voice. "They're freshly baked this morn." I answered "No thank you, I'm fine."
"Okay, we'll if you need anything just say." she squeaked happily. She pottered around the kitchen for a while, tidying up and cleaning dishes. After a while she spoke "He told me the cyclone were a coming, the tree he did." "He's amazing, him, he... he well let's say he watches the wind." Then suddenly from deep down a question popped in my head. "Jemima, how come he's different, how come he can talk to me and no one else?" I exclaimed. She paused for a minute then whispered excitedly "Well if you really want to know." "Your Great Grandmother, the owner of this land, planted him when he was only a wee sapling." "She could talk to him, she took extra care of him and gave love to him." "That 'tis why he can talk to you, because love flows through his roots and the same goes to you." You have been the one, the only one who has shown care and respect to him." As joy filled my heart, the outside seemed to quieten down and peace was given to our farm. I always enjoy talking to him and having fun in the summer, we love it. He is my guardian and I am his joy.