Young Writers Society

Just something I had to write for school and thought I'd put it up here as I'm quite proud of it.

The Forest and the Album

I hold the CD in my hands, running my fingers across its cover like a widow does to a picture of her lost husband. I gaze at the cover art, absorbing every part of its beauty. Turning the case over, I skim down the track names; even the font adds to the memories now flooding back to me. I can almost smell the cool, fresh summer air from my memories. Reaching across my desk, I lift my cup of coffee to my mouth. Drinking the warm fluid I close my eyes and as I slowly breathe out, relishing its taste, a grin plays across my face. Even memories are found in the taste. I place down the cup and open my eyes. A very different scene lies before me. The cold, muddy fields that dwelled outside my window are replaced with flowing fields of fresh, green grass and the sun’s rays gently warm my face. Each blade of grass sways in the cool breeze and, in unison, seems to form a great dance. The grin returns to my face. I am back.

Looking back down at the CD I see that it also has changed. It is wrapped in a thin sheet of polythene. Slowly, and with trembling fingers, I unwrap it from its shield. Its box unfolds into three parts and I read through the lyrics with a reverence similar to a priest reading his bible. I carefully remove the disc and place it in my computer’s CD drive. Moments later I am surrounded with a music the likes of which I have never before. It fills the room and flows around everything. Swirling round my head and in and out of my ears, it fills me with me with a feeling of timelessness. It is as if the music is from another age, from a different world even. After just under an hour of a relentless audio assault silence ensues. I am left gaping, still not able to fully grasp what I have just heard. The music had taken me on a journey, through short aggressive tracks to a soothing keyboard interlude and then concluding with a breathtaking fifteen minute finale that leaves me with a continued sense of wonder. That feeling I experienced from that first listening would stay with me for a long time to come.

My memories move forwards several weeks, I am this time in a car. My head is propped up with my hand through sheer and utter boredom and I gaze out the window at the countryside speeding past. I didn’t particularly want to go on this holiday; a whole week of playing board games and watching films I hated didn’t really appeal to me. Besides I had only just sat my Standard Grade exams and I wanted to relax and recover from the obviously traumatic experience. Thankfully we had to take two cars so I quickly claimed my Dad’s; this meant quality tunes. However this did nothing to shorten the painfully long journey. After passing through at least a dozen small villages (and getting lost a fair few times more) we finally reached the small cottage on the estate that we were staying at. As unenthusiastic as I was about the whole thing I had to admit, in my head of course, that the scenery was something to behold. Although the sun was not at its fullest and there was a light mist around, the views were still spectacular. The manor building, looking much like something from the Middle Ages, was set in a garden of green grass and bordering the garden was a row of magnificent Conifers with a giant Oak at the end. Our cottage too was encompassed with trees of all types, whose colours mixed together and whose tips were covered in a thin veil of mist. The cottage itself was in the centre of a sloped meadow, filled with a yellow coloured grass that rose gently until it merged with the forest uphill. Peering into the shadows of the woods, they seemed magical to me. I felt an urge to explore them, to see what lay beyond their dark shroud, and to absorb their sights and smells. All this time I had a certain album playing on my iPod. The forest and the album; there was a connection there that I didn’t understand, but I knew it was important. And I knew that I would find out soon. Turning to go back into the cottage a grin emerged on my face. Maybe this holiday would be better than I thought.

It wasn’t until a day or two later that I went into the woods. It was the evening but, thanks to the long days, that did nothing to affect the levels of light. In fact it gave everything a golden glow that further fueled my urge to explore. Making my way up the path in the yellow grass, and with the album playing just loud enough for me to hear, I reached to edge of the trees. I could see clearly inside now. There was a stream that ran downhill before turning to follow a fence. There were fallen trees, covered with moss. There was a dyke, also covered with moss, which although in disrepair was still recognisable. Each sight raised countless questions in my head. Did a deer drink from that stream just this morning? How old were those trees? Who build the dyke and why has it been left like this? Always there was the music, not aggressive now but calming and in perfect synchrony with the woods. Walking further into the woods I followed the stream. Not long after this I turned away, making a note of my location, and followed a foot path I had spotted. Still the music played, resonating in my ears and awakening me to a whole new world. Every colour seemed more vivid, every scent more intense, every sound sharper. I was more alert, yet also in a calm trance. I wandered up the path, turning off occasionally to explore various other smaller routes. Each one led to a new place, a new discovery, and all becoming imprinted in my mind. A tranquil clearing, a small mossy rock face with tiny torrents of water dripping down its surface, tiny pools of water which lay beside other paths, which themselves may have not been used for years. This was my realm; private, secluded. But it all ended too soon. With the fading light I turned and facing the sun, headed back. In my brief encounter with the true side of the woods I had been filled with a sense of awe and respect. Emerging from the woods into the meadow like a newborn baby from its mother’s womb a grin appeared on my face. I felt refreshed. I felt rejuvenated. The grin remained, growing with the realization that I had another week here, and that I now had found a place in which I could recover from my exams. I had found a haven.

Looking back down at the CD I pondered for a moment. Looking back at the memories contained in this CD, in this thin disc of plastic and metal, I feel a mixture of sorrow and happiness; both through a desire to revisit them, and also because I know that I cannot truly be back. Then, like the awakening I experienced upon that first listening, it dawned on me. Taking the disc out of its case I placed it inside my computer. The music begins again, as soothing as ever. As I sit back in my chair, close my eyes and take in the experience, a grin appears. I am back.