This is actually an essay I wrote in 11th grade - it turned out more like a creative writing piece (surprise, surprise). We were reading/had just finished "The Scarlett Letter", and I forget what the essay's prompt was, but I ended up writing the scene with Pearl in the forest from the forest's point of view.



Wildness

There is a child in me. Her mother walks with the leader of the people, and she has been left to wander alone. She is strange, this child. She is not afraid of me, like the other children of the town. She dresses in colors as bright as my bush’s berries and looks around not with fear but curiosity. She seems lonely, somehow. Perhaps the fearful children will not join her? Ah, well, it is no matter. I shall be as welcoming as I can. It has been a long time since a human who matched the creature's wildness entered me.

Already she is exploring. Tasting the berries that I have offered her. Dancing through the sunlight that comes through my leaves. Uncaring. Is she truly human? Is she truly her mother's daughter or did one of my fair folk spirit the human baby away and leave one of their own in its place? It would explain her comfort here, at least.

The animals are gathering. It is strange for them to come so near to a human child, as they usually avoid them. I do not think that they realize she is human. The pigeon certainly was surprised when she approached. And that squirrel has thrown one of my nuts at her. I almost wish she would throw it back, he’d deserve it. She has as much a right to be in me as he does, and he ought to respect that. Ah...now she has come across a predator, a fox. And I was right, they do not realize the child is human until they see her. He can’t decide whether to run or to stay. She does not seem to know what to make of him either. I expect she wishes to pet him.

Keep dreaming, my child.

Ah, what is this? One of my wolves, curious from the squirrel's chatter, has joined us in the clearing. My child, be wary, wolves are prone to....never mind. She has gotten her pet after all. Such strange beings, wolves. Predators, yet family focused. He must view her as a pup, else he would not let her near him, though I expect he sees it too, the wildness. It is in her as it is in everything else in me. The animals, the trees, the bushes, all posses that same wildness that she has been born with.

She shall lose it eventually. When she learns to feel as humans do she will lose it. Not entirely, I expect she shall be somewhat wild all her life but eventually, this inhuman wildness will be gone from her.

What a pity. I have not seen a human blessed with that wildness in many centuries.

Ah, she has found the flowers. Perhaps she is part fay, she is certainly adorning herself as such. Twigs and leaves and flowers all over her. She’ll sprout wings any moment, and flutter off to the faerie realm with the rest of the fair folk. They left me years ago, and I miss them. It would be nice to have them back, but they cannot stay where they are not believed in.

And now the child is leaving, her mother has finished her talk with the man, and is calling her. She is reluctant to go, I can see. I am reluctant for her to leave as well. Come back soon, my child. Before you lose that wildness, that freedom that is so pure in you, come back.

I need more humans like you.