Rohan’s Defender (Hiatus)

United States


*joined in July 2020*

~trying to be myself in this big world~

-Peeta Mellark’s girl (9-24-20)

Life is Dynamite!

Message to Readers

This is my completed challenge! I hope you like it!

Challenge Completed

August 14, 2020

Writing Streak Week 5

Day 1

You stand so tall and rigid, springtime guardian. You are a powerful presence, watching in the still of the night. It is then that your long limbs are at the ready, your feet rooted in the soft earth, your leafy green eyes always scanning for  danger. You wear the garbs of a humble shepherd. A long robe of brown, strong as leather. A belt of moss. Fresh, grassy sandals. And atop your hazel brow sits a halo of budding flowers, each beautiful as a star. You watch over the vulnerable plants and tiny creatures, and your shaking fist drives away the snarling wind.

Day 2

     The trees are neighborhoods. Neighborhoods for all the little critters that try to hide themselves from the bitterness of the long winter nights. The family of birds settles down in the willow. They are safe, cozy in the billowing green fabric of her skirt. The rabbits dig down beneath her firmly planted feet, and she will not move and let the rain pummel their sleeping bodies. The raccoons creep softly up Lady Tree in the growing dawn, trying to get to  her cupped hands that serve as a hole for their bedroom, and hoping not to wake her, they are silent. But Ms. Willow only chuckles a breezy laugh; for she isn’t asleep. If she was, the creatures resting by her would be in danger, because a growling predator might come for them. But not under those watchful eyes of the willow. And also, if she slept, how would the beauty-loving Ms.Willow ever see the orange sunrise?

Day 3

      They are the wind’s best friends. The wind hurries to greet them all as soon as the sun rises.
“Good morning!” Cries Wind to her friends the oaks.
 “Mornin” yawns the sleepy oaks, stretching their stiff limbs. Wind continues to the tall pines, ruffling their prickly needle-like hair.
 “How did you sleep?” She asks politely, carrying the many colored leaves around their large bodies. The pines only shake their large heads at the eager wind. Wind shrugs, and finally she travels over to the maples.
 “How is everyone?” Wind wonders aloud to these slightly sweeter trees.
 “Lovely, thanks! I do love your thoughtfulness, dear Wind!” Chirps a kindly old maple, and Wind laughs a breezy laugh. The maples are always a little sappy. But Wind loves them as much as she loves all the innumerable trees in the world. The trees know that the wind cools them in the summer, so in return they all groan and creak to communicate with her.
Day 4

     Forrests are reminders that the earth does not really belong to man. The trees stand up straight and strong to demonstrate that we don’t control them. They do this to show that when the earth was created, trees were placed here, and we shouldn’t just cut them all down. This is their final resolution to defy man’s will that trees become lumber and lumber becomes furniture, paper, and firewood. The trees tell us in their own unique way to remember that God put them here for everyone, and that if we cut them ALL down, we will destroy one of His biggest gifts.

Day 5

     Trees are artists. When the gentle spring breeze wakes them, they stretch and begin to adorn their heads in a halo of blooming flowers, pink and purple and glorious white. When summer dawns, the trees feel the increase in heat and their leafy, green hair grows long and thick about their stout shoulders. They hold onto every tiny bit of green they can, to help shield them from the burning sun and to collect the dainty dew in the cool morns. When autumn announces its long awaited arrival, the trees rejoice at their favorite season. These tasteful artists spend many tireless days watching the evening sky, until finally they are ready, and they paint their leaves in bright tricolors to mirror the unequaled sunset. They clutch their beautiful masterpieces as long as they can to display their hard work. But as the bitter wind blows down from the north, the trees release their gorgeous leaves and drop them down onto the rough, barren ground that serves as their canvas. And as the final season comes around full force, the trees stand still as stone and decorate their cold, bare limbs in fragile ice and the lightest powder of soft white snow.


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  • August 14, 2020 - 10:15am (Now Viewing)

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1 Comment
  • Jo Rejoicing

    I will definitely do one about life during the Civil War! It's weird that you said that; I was actually considering that for the next one to write! It sometimes takes me a few days to write them, but I've already published one:

    8 months ago