Creative Writing: Wyoming Public Lands Initiative

Grand Teton National Park is wonderful to visit any time of year, but Fall is my favorite. Autumn brings many wonderful things to the Tetons, but one thing it takes away are the large crowds of summer. Whew!

One day I woke up and there was nothing, no hustle and bustle though the house just silence. It was very odd for it being a school day for me and my brother. I just laid there waiting for something to happen, but nothing did. I decided to peek out my window to see if anything was weird and immediately I noticed a giant flash of light. I ran to my father's gun case and shattered the glass not even worrying about the cuts on my arm. I grabbed his 12 gauge and his 380.. I have had much experience with guns so I could properly defend myself. I looked around And yelled “Mom , Dad , Anyone?” there was no reply to my plead. But once I turned Around again there was a man. Torn up and battered like an abused

After a long mountainous drive, I arrived at my destination to embrace one of nature’s wonders in the Great Smokey Mountain National Park, Abram Falls Trail. Upon departing the car, a cool crisp breeze brushed my face and the aroma of bacon lingered in the early morning air from the neighboring campground. The narrow rocky footpath looked like a tedious adventure, however a gorgeous, vibrant array of red, purple, orange, and yellow wildflowers blossoming at the entrance made the trail alluring. Navigating the rocky, uneven terrain required sturdy footing, but the quiet stillness created a peaceful relaxing atmosphere. The lush pine-oak forest formed a green canopy of shelter above the trail, offering welcome cool shade, as vivid sunlight filtered through the foliage. A sweet honey fragrance permeated the air, as a stunning scene displayed a cluster of purple and pure white

Although no one is willing to admit it, some people treat Native Americans as lesser, more primitive beings. The government decides what happens to them, and the Native Americans have to live and be grateful for whatever is thrown their way. In the past, arguments between the states and Native American tribes have arose, only for the Native Americans to be paid off or completely ignored, allowing the states to do as they choose. In fact, something of such caliber has yet to be solved this year. Company after company has tried to unearth given land to place pipes, pump for oil, and mine for precious materials. The most Native Americans have nothing they can do other than stand by and watch as their sacred grounds are destroyed without a second thought. Even when a petition is created, the construction will only be postponed for a small while as a federal hearing is held discussing the matter. Sometimes, Native Americans win this battle, but other times what land they have left is destroyed. Most of the time, their land wasn’t even worth

Red Fern South Dakota has always been a quiet town, where only the trees made a sound when the wind blew, and when the dogs barked when someone drove by. A girl about five years old by the name of Jordan grew up on a little farm two miles away from Red Fern; her mother, Kristina, had a tough time keeping a sound eye on her. Amidst the cow lot and lake beds she was constantly somewhere unknown; Jordan would be under the bed, in the toy box, and outside in the hay bales. Jordan loved being outside. She found herself making tea in an old coffee can, the tea consisted of grass, berries from evergreen tree, and even rocks. She would stir it together with a stick, until the water turned a pear green. Jordan would filter the green mixture through

I never knew the Smokies were so close to my grandparent’s retirement village. Every summer all the cousins jammed into Grandpa’s Ford for our jaunt up the mountains. But back then the hills had no name. They were recognized only by the pop of our ears and the pink silk trees bowing down to the highway. Since those days I have grown partial to any patch of grass with “National Park” tacked to its title. Today the mimosas still tossed their petals to traffic, and the truck remembered its ever-present perfume of damp golden retriever. But today we were going to The Great Smoky Mountains National Park. “Cade’s Cove, next left,” the road sign read, and two bikes bumped along on the car hitch.

Jump!!! My dog jumps on my bed looking at me. I could tell he was going to bark closing my ears from the loud screechy bark. And then he jumps off my bed only to play with his rope. I sit up staring at my phone that was bright I look at my dog waiting for me to get up.

In our brochure, the Mount Willard trail’s level read moderate and Jason glanced up from the page and offered a warning.

My name is Jeffrey I was born in Mississippi 1989,June 9 where I came from a trailer there.We spent most of our life there in Mississippi. We made kin friends kinda more that family than friends and had a couple of hilarious jests together I felt like I was gunna spend the rest of my life there but I guess not.My family got into some trouble gambling so me and my family was thinking to flee and go to Alabama.So we took a destination stay with Aunt Sheela for a a week or a month to see if we can find a way to get out of this trouble.

I layed back, kicked my feet up, and looked up at the sun trying to break through the leaves of the enormous Oak trees. There is one place I always end up when I want to escape from the rest of the world: Pokagon State Park.

Welcome to Sandersville, Georgia. A quaint, little town nestled in Washington County with a population of under 6,000. Seated happily in the Bible Belt, there are more churches than gas stations in the Southern city. We pass the only gas station for miles on the corner of the main street as my family heads to my Aunt’s house. The drive from Atlanta to Sandersville was slower than molasses running up hill—at least according to my mother. Sara Armour is the epitome of the southern belle. A well-spoken lady, she was born in Atlanta, but raised in Milledgeville, GA following her parents’ divorce. With bright red lipstick and a blonde bob, she looks like the carbon copy of her older sisters in that musty kitchen

Yes! Yes! Yes! My mom told me the news. I made the team after only two tryouts. Now, I play for the Fort Wayne Sport Club. I have been playing soccer for about seven years now, mainly because I just love the sport. This is my second year with the Fort Wayne Sport Club. I hope to play soccer for the rest of my life.

there was once a man named trump who wanted to give Hillary a thump when he tried she stepped aside and gave him a bump in the rump his skin a orange as the California sun a smile that made children want to run such a man whom all loved to hate with a belly that made you wonder what he ate he wished to "make america great again" He disrespects women and only likes mie he was a violent soul to manys' dislike with a voice that sounded like a motorbike however he would still bellow of how he was just a common fellow With a loan of a million dollars from his father To start his business, though no one would bother Failure after failure with no success He now tries to add a nation to his mess Is this this the best that we could possibly suggest.

Hidden in the seclusion of the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, sits a tranquil pond blanketed in a sheet of fragile ice. From atop the limestone peaks, the glistening rays of the morning sun tint the mountain side a sunburnt orange. The sloped peaks of the rippled mountain side are covered in snow, like they have been dusted with icing sugar, and cast a foreboding shadow over the pond below. In the valley, the arid, yellowed grass has been suffocated by the thick layer of snow and ice, for the winter storm has hit hard this season and spring has arrived later than usual. Yet, beside the frozen pool, there lies a growth of bright, rich evergreens, their trunks rising towards the stars, and their branches extending to the shape of a cone. From them,

Isaac looked up from the blood on the ground and gripped the rough handle of his spear tighter. The rough stone spearpoint was nicked badly, and covered in dried blood. ‘This thing won’t last much longer.’ I thought. I got up from my crouch after rubbing some of the blood between two fingers. It was still wet, but it looked like it was starting to dry in the intense sunlight. I’m getting closer then.