Greenway Forest

Greenway Forest

By Julia M



Stupid dog. Yes, that is what my story
starts with. That's who led me there, and
it wasn’t even my fault. So there.

I was innocently biking home from the
supermarket one Saturday, with my groceries in
hand, and I noticed this dog was following me.
Typical, I thought, it probably smells the
hamburger I bought. The dog followed me the
whole three miles home! What is wrong with this
dog? I searched around for its owner, but it was just
me and that dog that wasn’t gonna get what it
wanted. “Go!” I told the dog. “Go home, dumb
dog!” Was it deaf? It just sat there, looking
expectantly at me. I sighed, and fumbled in my
grocery bag looking for my house keys, muttering to
myself about that stupid dog.

I found my keys, and then my neighbor, Sally,
called my name from her window and startled me.
My keys and the bag fell from my hands, and as
quick as lightning, the dog snatched the bag by the
handle and took off! “Hey!” I yelled at it, though I
knew it would ignore me. Sally watched the whole
thing, and I could tell she was trying to hold in a
laugh. I looked frantically from the dog to my
neighbor and back again. I focused my gaze on
Sally, and helplessly yelled, “Quick! Help me catch
that dog! It stole my keys! And my groceries!”

Sally left the window, and was out on her bike 15
seconds later. We both took off after the dog, who
maybe wasn’t so stupid, and did get what it wanted,
(at least for a little while). We pedaled after the dog
at top speed. We chased it and dodged passerbys
through the crowded downtown. We followed it
through sellers’ stands on the street, and we finally
caught up with it at the entrance of a forest.
Greenway Forest, an old, wooden sign stated. The
dog had stopped at the entrance of the lush, green
forest, and was staring at us as if we were supposed
to follow it.

“Well, you dragged me across town, chasing this
stupid dog,” Sally started annoyedly, “Now we’ve got
him! Let’s go.”

“But isn’t it weird that it just stopped in front of
this forest?” I protested. “I say we keep following it!
Maybe it will take us somewhere! Maybe this forest
is magical.” I put on a dreamlike face as I said the
last part.

“You read too much fiction,” she argued back.
“Let’s go home!”

“Fine, you go home, I’ll follow the dog,” I said.
“I’m going to come home eventually, though, and I
am going to prove you wrong!” Sally dramatically
grabbed my groceries from the dog and rode off. I
stared after her, then turned around. Fine, her loss!

I turned to look back at the dog.
“Well?” I asked it, throwing my hands up
in the air for emphasized effect. “What do
you want to show me?” The dog got up,
turned around, and promptly started
walking into the forest. Not knowing what
else to do, I followed it into the great
unknown. That dog sure loves making me
follow it, doesn’t it? I thought. As if it
could hear me, it turned its head and
grinned.

The forest was breathtaking, I began to
see as I looked around. How had I never
noticed it before? It was straight out of a
fairytale! There were colorful birds
singing, and vibrant flowers blooming in
the fresh spring weather. The trees were
tall and thick, a protective blanket over the
forest.

The dog stopped walking, and still in
my daze I almost bumped into it. I
realized we had stopped in front of a giant
oak tree. Yes! I thought. This is going to
be some sort of portal into a magical
world! I started doing a happy dance
inside my head. Sally was soooo wrong!

Then, the dog strolled
over to the tree...

circled it twice...

lifted up one of its hind legs...

and...

PEED.

“Eeeeew! Gross!” I exclaimed. I
swear the dog smirked as it proceeded
along the path. I really was starting to
dislike this animal.

That dog never gets tired. I’d bet it’s a
robot! It twisted and turned and weaved
its way through loose sticks, and never
stopped to rest. I was beginning to get
bored -- and my legs were exhausted.
The dog hadn’t even realized that I had
sat down it seemed, and it kept walking
at the same pace. So, I sat down next to a
sturdy-looking tree, sick and tired of

following that
rude dog.
Before I knew
it, my eyes were
closing, and my
body was
thanking me.

I awoke fifteen minutes later, still very tired. I
looked and felt around me, trying to figure out why I
woke up so soon. It was like one of those times
when you wake up realizing you need to do
something important, and then you quickly sit up
and then can’t remember what it is. Then I forgot
where I was, and I was scared out of my wits for a
split second. My senses kicked in, and I
remembered that I was in a forest. Then I looked
and saw that the dog had officially ditched me. Oh,
well. Never liked that dog anyways, I thought with
a smile. I stood up and dusted the dirt off my
behind. I was just about to start walking home,
when I heard something. I stood very still, suddenly
very wary of my surroundings.
You don’t get much
wilderness training where
I’m from. People just live
their lives, not really
expecting or worrying about
getting lost in the woods, or
attacked by some wild
animal.

Then, I heard it again. It was a rustling
sound, coming from behind a nearby lilac
bush. I wasn’t worried at first, because I
thought of something it could be; it could have
been the dog! It made no sense why it would
come back to me, but hey, maybe it liked me.
Now that I thought about it though, I had been
asleep for fifteen minutes, and the dog never
stopped walking forwards, or even looked
back. I now highly doubted that it was the dog
behind that bush. When did I become so
sensible? I don’t think I like it. It was better
when I didn’t look before I leaped.

The rustling sound continued. Images of bears,
snakes, and the deer that once broke my mama’s
windshield popped into my brain. Or, it could be
something not dangerous at all! I tried to convince
myself. Like, a rabbit, a baby fox, or a nice doe that
wouldn’t even think of ramming into a windshield!
I could hear the voice in my head trembling even as
I thought this. Yeah, there was no way I was going
to get out alive. I picked up an unusually large stick,
and waved it back and forth in front of me, like that
was supposed to protect me or something. My mind
was telling me to run away screaming at the top of
my lungs, but I’m trying not to be sensible,
remember, so I just stood very, very still.

The leaves moved again behind the bush,
and I threw the stick at the bush. Don’t ask
me why I did that. It will puzzle me for a
long time to come. When I threw the stick,
though, it must have startled whatever was
behind the bush, and it jumped out. I looked
at it, and it looked at me. Then we did one of
those comical things where we took turns
screaming at each other. I don’t really feel
like explaining how the Festival of Screams
played out, but my ears really hurt
afterward.

When we had finished screaming at each other
(but only because I was out of breath), I finally
looked at what I was screaming at. It was a
porcupine. Okay, not a bear or snake, and
thankfully not that deer, but a simple, little,
porcupine. It was about as long as the bottom half
of my leg, and the sharp quills were starting to lay
flat on its back, much to my relief. We stared at
each other some more. I was beginning to question
whether it screamed back at me, or if possibly I just
did all of the screaming, which is entirely possible. I
sighed, and leaned against the trunk of the tree I
had fallen asleep under.

The longer I stared at the creature, the
more I thought. The porcupine was
different somehow than other
porcupines, and it’s not like I have a book
at home entitled “Porcupines and Their
Features”, but there was something off
about it, I could just sense it. (There I go
again, being sensible and stuff. I’ve gotta
stop doing that!) I walked around it
cautiously, hoping it wouldn't propel its
quills at me, and then it hit me.

(No, the quill didn’t hit
me; realization did!)

The porcupine hadn’t moved at all since it
appeared from behind the bush. Hadn’t
twitched, advanced, gestured; nothing.
Normally when you see an animal in the
woods, they don’t like you, and either run
away or attack. This porcupine just sat
there. After acknowledging that, I begin to
realize that I am in no danger. I start to walk
away, back on the path towards home. The
sun is setting over the horizon, and I am
smiling, thinking about my adventures in
Greenway Forest.

When I reach the entrance of the forest, I get on my
bike and start pedaling home. Then I hear a voice from
behind me. “Goodbye! Nice meeting you!” it says. I
stop my bike with a screech of the tires and turn around.
There is the porcupine, standing on its hind legs, waving
goodbye. I stop walking and stare at it, very confused.
Porcupines don’t talk! I squint my eyes, and the dog is
appearing next to the porcupine.

“Thanks for the hamburger!” the dog says. I shake
my head and close my eyes in disbelief, and then when I
reopen them, the dog and porcupine are slowly
disappearing back into the forest, hand in hand. I
would believe you if you told me my eyebrows were
raised 11 feet above
my head, because I’m
pretty sure they were.
I looked around for
witnesses, wanting
someone to have seen
what I saw, but there
was no one in sight
for miles.

I hop back on my bike and continue pedaling
home. I am lost in my own daze recalling the events
that had happened. I am only broken out of it when
I reach my house, with Sally standing on my front
porch. “Well?” she asks. “Was I right?” She has her
hands on her hips, looking like a very sassy Sally.
“Whaaa…” I reply, not really remembering our
disagreement from earlier.

“Seriously?” she tells me. “You don’t remember
going off into the woods five hours ago and finding a
magical fairy-tale world?” She says that last part
with an eye roll. “Oh, and by the way, your
hamburger is missing from your grocery bag..”

“Oh, yeah. I know.” I said. “Yeah, it
wasn’t what I expected. The dog peed by
a tree.” I parked my bike, leaving her
very confused. What would you say if you
had an adventure like mine, without
everyone thinking you’re crazy? I knew
that it would just be between me, the dog,
and the porcupine, and that I would never
follow a dog into a forest again.