A View Of The Mountain Canopy

1098 WordsMay 17, 20175 Pages
At this point I had figured I would head up to the top of the hill to see if I could get a view of the village from up there. As I made my way, I stuck to the few open areas where the sun broke through the forest canopy. Halfway up, I had stopped to look up at the top of the hill, and I could see that the trees were beginning to transition from mostly maples and oaks to almost entirely that of birches. Their peeling-white papery bark becoming ever more present around me. The top of the hill gradually leveled out again, and I found myself now in a forest of Christmassy white poles having been surrounded by the birch trees. I thought of them as being enchanting and yet creepy at the same time, and I suddenly started feeling a…show more content…
I was still on one of the upper bases of the mountain by my calculations and had just taken my first steps when unexpectedly; I heard a voice call out. It said, “Hey,” from somewhere behind me. I then quickly turned around having been somewhat startled and saw that there was a girl now standing there nestled amongst the birches. She then called out to me, “Hey, what are you doing here?” and I was again taken a little aback by her, but then when I saw her crack a small smile I felt my heart begin to slow. She then walked towards me weaving between the birches, almost strolling. “Hi,” I said to her somewhat nervously—having still been a little freaked out by her having suddenly appeared. Not to mention, by her being among those creepy birches, which didn’t help matters any. It was a very disquieting place. “You from around here?” she asked. “Just moved up here from Alabama, you from around here?” I asked her. “Been here my whole life,” she said, somewhat flippantly while looking up at the sky. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been anywhere else.” She was a little pale, but it worked well with her long, jet-black hair and dark eyes. She had on a light blue dress, the kind Heidi would’ve worn, along with a white undershirt. There was a small-town prettiness to her much like the waitress at Maybelle’s Diner had and I almost at once felt a kinship to her. “I’m Cera… Cera Singer,” I said, trying to sound as warm and as friendly as I could make
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