The willow tree that I had been sitting under, just three hours ago, had got cut down. Nobody tried to stop it, nobody came yelling, screaming: “No! That tree belongs to Katrina!” Nobody woke me or even gave me a sympathy card.

Many people might say, “well why do you care about that stupid old tree anyway? It’s just a tree!” But I beg to differ. I had sat under that tree when I read my first picture book, “brown bear, brown bear”. I had sat under that tree when my first tooth came out, all bloody and slobery, and when my cat Fluffy died, and when I had cuddled my brand new doll, Alexa. That tree was a memory box, a friend.


This is just a taste of the start of a new possible story. I am not sure if I want to continue it or not so I would love your feedback. Thank you so much! (I am going to continue writing my other story, World news, as well.)