Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: BURIED (04/01/21)
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TITLE: A Nutty Problem | Previous Challenge Entry
By Samuel Kane
04/07/21 -
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Sally scurried along the ground, nervously scratching her temple, while scanning for any hill, any hollow, any hint of where her treasure might be.
“Where is it?” she repeated.
“Where is what?”
Sally’s bushy tail twitched at the sudden sound of the voice behind her.
“Oh no! What if I’ve lost it? I can’t have lost it. It’s too important to me. What will I do?”
The slow, soothing tone of Barry’s voice cut across Sally’s worried wittering.
“What have you lost?”
Sally gazed into her friend’s calm eyes, peering out towards her from the stripes upon his face. He seemed so large and his lengthy claws were not to be trifled with, and yet he was always gentle around her.
Then Sally’s tone became irritated. How dare he not realise what was bothering her? He claimed to be her friend. Surely her every qualm should at the forefront of his mind, let alone a disaster like this! Her beady eyes narrowed and then flashed in frustration.
“It’s my acorn! I can’t find my acorn!”
Barry sighed in disbelief.
“I buried it right here. I even took special care to remember where I left it: at the base of the third tree after the bench. I can’t believe this happened. I just don’t understand how I could have lost it!”
Barry peeked his head out the undergrowth as he gazed around the park. He saw hundreds of people walking around chatting, playing games, and eating picnics beneath the many trees: living their lives in blissful ignorance of the world around them. He heard the excited laugher of children as they pranced along the paths. He contemplated a group of teenagers sat together on one of the dozens of benches scattered around the park. Barry shook his head.
His ears pricked as he heard a tiny little bump on the ground a few feet to his left. He turned to see the cause of the noise, and then tilted his head back to Sally.
“Is that it?”
Sally glanced briefly before responding confidently. “No, it’s the wrong shape.”
Barry looked up at the great oak beneath which they were resting. There must be thousands of acorns up there.
Sally followed his gaze.
“No, those simply will not do.”
“Why not?”
“Well, they’re not mine. You wouldn’t understand Barry, you’re not a squirrel. My acorn was perfect: the weight of it in my paws, the smell of it in the Autumn breeze, the way it gleamed in the sun… oh I can almost taste it just by thinking about it.”
“Acorns are there to be eaten. I mostly eat worms: do you think I care about the way they look? It doesn’t need to be the Mona Lisa; it just needs to be edible. It might not give you everything you need but it will get you through the day.”
“But it won’t be mine. You just don’t understand Barry.”
And with those words, she scurried off, scratching at the earth, for any sign of her dream. Barry crept slowly back into his sett leaving Sally behind, endlessly muttering to herself, never finding her previous acorn.
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Many years passed by. The bench which had once been there had withered away. Now a great oak stands there, providing joy, shelter, and food to many of our furry friends.
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