By Ellen Feely, age 11
As I looked up to the giant tree, all I could picture was death.
I could hear the continuous call of my name around me. I glanced
at the ones who were forcing me to do this horrible thing. Within
their smiles, I could see revenge.
I looked back at this massive tree and gulped. It was so tall,
even its lowest branches seemed to touch the clouds. I took a deep
breath and stepped up to the tree. Putting my hands and feet in position,
I heaved myself up. The rough bark scratched the palms of my hands.
I carefully planted my feet and hands in every possible hole. I stopped
so I could have a short rest. I looked up; the tree looked almost
the same as from down the bottom. I looked down; I seemed to be 100
meters from the ground. I could still hear the endless cry of my
name. I knew that this would take a long time. I caught my
breath and continued on my trek to the sky. As I climbed higher,
all I could think of was the faces of Matt, Tom, James and Nick, the reasons
for me being up here. As I climbed higher, the song from below faded
away. I must have been fairly high up! Or had they stopped?
This didn’t worry me, as I expected them to start up again soon.
Higher and higher I climbed. I could see a branch not too far above
me. I scrambled up to it. I sat myself on the branch and took
another rest. The branch wasn’t too strong, but it didn’t matter,
as I was just lighter than the weight of the branch. I smiled to
myself thinking positively. I knew I could make it to the top.
Still smiling, I looked down and waved to the crowd. But now, my
crowd was only a young magpie scavenging for food. My beaming smile
turned to a drooping frown. I knew where they had gone as recess
had obviously ended. But I was climbing the tree, with my mind wondering
off in all directions. I’d been too busy to hear the piecing school
bell. I hunched my back and cuddled my knees, with my hand on the
tree to keep me steady. I sat on there feeling sorry for myself.
What a failure I was. I broke a stick of the branch and threw it
down at the magpie, as if everything was its fault. The magpie got
a huge fright. It jumped up and down and started to look everywhere
to see what had thrown the stick. Its eyes were looking straight
at me, and the expression on its face appeared to show anger, if it had
any feelings at all. I quickly looked away. I began to think
of a way that I could get down. Could I fly down like a magpie?
Or could I use the tree trunk as a fire pool and slide down? Many
thoughts began to fill my head. I turned back to the youthful magpie,
as if it held the answer. But the magpie just flew away. I
wondered why.
“Mark?” said a matured voice.
I jumped suddenly, causing me to fall. I landed right on a native
bush. A figure spied me. I immediately realized who it was.
It was my teacher, Miss Hamill.
“Are you alright Mark?” said my teacher in a concerned voice.
“Thank goodness you had the bush to break your fall, and luckily it was
a short tree. I think we’ll take you over to sick bay to get you
checked out. But you know as well as I do that you should not be
climbing trees. The big kids aren’t allowed to either,” said Miss
Hamill sternly.
“But I am a big kid!” I protested. “I’m 5!”