English 101 141
11 October 2012
When I was a baby, the world was a lot different. Everything was incredibly bright, or awfully dark. I was remarkably happy, or I was terribly scared. I lived in a world of extremes. I was trapped on an elevator that soared to the top floor in an instant, and plummeted to the basement the next. Nothing, not one feeling, not one moment in time, lasted long enough for me to explore. Then, as I stood up for the first time, the elevator came to a halt and the shiny, metal door slid slowly open. With a ding, I opened my eyes. What stood before me, framed in the elevator door, was a giant, majestic tree. As I took my first steps out of the elevator, the soothing carpet beneath my feet was replaced with short, prickly grass. The horizon was hazy and golden and the air was fresh and crisp. As I approached the tree, the elevator door shut violently behind me, and a loud bang echoed for an eternity before it vanished in a cloud of grey fog. The cloud of fog grew steadily, like bacteria spreading, and I was paralyzed as I watched it engulf the entire world. I was startled, but the giant tree demanded my attention. I continued towards it until I arrived at the trunk and wrapped my arms around as much of it as I could. It was covered in microscopic needles and I relinquished my grip on it almost at once. I looked down at my chest and arms, and found that they were covered with red scrapes. I gazed back up at the tree. I followed its trunk until it disappeared into the fog. I wondered what the fog was hiding. The more my curiosity grew, the less pronounced my scrapes became, until they had completely disappeared and were replaced with tougher skin. Then, by instinct, I reached for the lowest branch and heaved myself upwards. When I grabbed each branch, it felt rough, but no longer punctured my skin. The further up the tree I climbed, the further apart the branches became, until I arrived at a point which I...
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