Diane Ciesielski

After a long ride to Grandma's house, of course a ten year old is going wander inquisitively. I pulled my cousin's scooter out of the shed and hopped on.  Plying down the hills of gravel tar, I came to a peaceful rest stop, an enclosed little valley at the end of an everlasting hill.

Pine trees overlooked a crystal clear pond.  It was almost sunset and tb sun was glistening off the water.  Frogs, Monarch butterflies, and salamander seemed to keep me company.  Colors were illuminating to my eyes, the greens oranges, and blue of the almost darkened sky.

As I sat there, I used the scenery to take me to a place I love to go, place I've carried around inside all my life, a place where dreams seem real and reality is only a dream, a place where questions come and go, a place where I am in control.  In this destination I choose the setting and the main ideas.  At times It can be dark, anger-filled, happy, or even violent.  The best part about it is that it is called mine.  Mo one except me has been there.

In the background I could hear the birds chirping, a sound that became louder and louder as I approached the other world.  By this time, the stars were out, and a slight mist covered the pond.  A dog barked in the distance.  I realized it was time to get back.

Before I could get up, I heard a rumble I recognized right away.  It was my uncle's moped.  He was going to rag me out for taking off without telling anyone.  He told me that I had frightened the elders.  All I could think was that, in the place I had been moments before, things would have been different.