by Zavier Ortiz

Created on: September 22, 2008

One Big Playground

When I was ten years old, my family and I lived on a military base called Landstuhl. It was rather small considering the fact that it did have the best hospital in Germany. The business portion of the miniature city did not matter to me. The only things that I was interested in were the forests and the playground

The striking of the sun through the beautifully full, green canopy of the forest cast a fantastical luminescent glitter throughout the wood. My brothers and I were always frolicking through the forest. We would play games, such as man-hunt, capture the flag, and hide-and-seek. During some games of hide-and-seek, when I did not want to run, I would go to a secret hiding place that I had found near the back of the forest. A gap in the canopy above existed right over a miniature clearing where the most scrumptious blueberries and raspberries grew. If I could find a spot to sit, I could not be located.

At night, the woods became something very close to haunted. There were noises that sounded unearthly. The strangest sounds were the scarily low murmurs and the high pitched squeal that resonated across the block. We never went near the forest after sunset, although it was very tempting at times to investigate the source of a sound.

When we were not in the woods, we were at the playground. The strong fragrance of the pine trees that surrounded the park created a form of dome which overpowered the scent of the nearby dumpster and the exhaust of passing cars. There was a fort in the park which had several towers and rooms in which to hide. It made the perfect area to have pinecone wars with other kids from the neighborhood. My favorite spot was in the highest tower, which overshadowed the more miniscule points of the fort. As I would climb up the tower's ladder, the sharp thuds of the pinecones pounding against the wood around me would often cause me to relinquish my grip on the rungs and fall to the cushiony sand and grass mixture below. The less audible bonks of pinecones hitting their targets always made me feel like the other team was winning.

Near the end of a war, the other army would grow desperate and raid our stronghold. There was only one door for them to come through, and it was a tight squeeze for anybody. That is when I had the most fun because I would launch projectiles, which were not always pinecones, at the invading enemies. Many of our foes would retreat, but others would grow so frustrated at the beatings from the flying objects,

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