For my contest entry, I was assigned the following.
First round 600 words max
Genre - Fairy Tale/ Fantasy
Theme - Botany
Emotional attachment - Ill Tempered
In this story, I capture a powerful message about the effects of human pollution on our environment using a mystical metaphor.
I was walking through a forest on a dark and gloomy day,
when I came upon a campsite that was wrecked and in dismay.
The ropes were frayed and tattered, and the tent was old and torn.
It looked as if this campsite had been through a mighty storm.
I knew I walked for hours, and no people were in sight;
It seemed they must have left this on a long and distant night.
I felt I shouldn't leave this trash, yet still, I was concerned:
Why would they have to leave this mess, and should I now be warned?
My ears perked up, my heart now raced at every little sound,
my eyes began to wander all across that campsite ground.
I came in search of flowers that my camera could record.
Instead, I found the scours that my heart and mind endured.
Disgust was building in my veins; I picked up all the trash.
For now, I'd place it in the tent and sift through all the ash.
I took a final walk about so not to miss a thing,
I hoped this would restore the land by mid to early spring.
A movement caught my eye just then, and I was left in awe.
My mind was quite astonished at the wonder that I saw.
I had to move in closer as I wiped my weary eyes.
The sight was quite bewildering and took me by surprise.
For on that branch out in the woods sat quite a tiny thing,
so mystical and cryptical, and only found in dreams.
Her wings were quite transparent, and her fist was clenched in rage.
She kicked the tree and stomped her foot, her anger I could gauge.
Those wings began to flutter as she lifted off the branch,
I tried to say hello, but I just never had a chance.
She opened up her mouth, and I could barely hear her speak.
The frail and tiny voice was little more than just a squeak.
As she spoke, I could see clearly, she had sadness on her face.
"You humans have no right to leave this junk all in my place.
There are bottles, cans, and plastic jugs, and so much other trash;
You're rude, you're loud, you're worse than bugs, so cruel and mean and brash.
Why do you have no feelings for this world we both must share?
You leave destruction in your path and never seem to care.
Sherry is my name, and this here forest is my land,
I tend to every plant that lives; you wouldn't understand.
The vines that grow I make my home, these trees I call a friend,
each day I spend in constant roam, these plants I always tend.
I shape every mushroom, decide where they grow, and I give them the love they all need.
It's me you should thank for the foods that you eat like your carrots, your mustards, and greens.
I check every leaf, and I sprout every root,
I trim, and I spread, and I seed.
For a species so smart, you sure don't comprehend that you're making our mother earth bleed!"
She didn't let me say a word; her anger was in bloom,
and so I sat there solemnly and listened to her fume.
Then suddenly, she disappeared; I couldn't even speak,
I threw that tent across my back; a tear fell on my cheek.
I never will forget her and the lessons I now carry,
from that day in the woods, a lecture on trash,
and the magical fairy named Sherry.