there is the sun and the golden leaves and two lovers are walking down the path. with the wind wisling and the leaves falling they hold hands wondering what will happed nexed

                                         sudo

AUTUMN. <--dat's my story, short and strong. o3o

Sudo the snail o3o

The sun came up with the sky ever so beautiful with bright colors of yellow ,pink, and orange.There the forest nearby,if you're lucky enought you will find valuable memories,animals,and just have a lovely stroll around.And just Sitting in this park, here you peacefully watch the sun go down,and you may hear the mysterious howls of wolves.Just like the leaves swirling in the breeze, there come the childeren playing laughing,playing,and swirling with the leaves, just wondering how the day will end up.

sudo :D

my junk pet is lanunu the tesuri

Leaves like sandpaper with a heart rustled down to the soft blanket of pine needles. Your naked foot steps lightly, arms to your sides like a bird ready to take flight. Narrowed eyes, midnight hair. "Sudo," you whisper, and your eyes grow to the size of fall apples at the sight before you. "Its... huge..." Hand inching to your back, a bow slides from its case. An arrow follows. As you pull the arrow back, something moves behind you. Your head whips arround and you see a gigantic creature, silver and strong. Trees snap like twigs, and a crackling surges through the air. Suddenly, jaws close around you, and you realize one thing: Sudo is not to be tampered with.

The seasons change, slowly. When the brisk winds nip at you, the gentle nip of a pup who has not lost it’s baby teeth yet, and swirl around, you know it’s autumn. Slowly, like the seasons that dictate their dress, the leaves loose their demure shades of green, and flash out boldly in hues of every sort. They make a statement, for in several weeks, they dance, swirling in elaborate patterns. They’re vulnerable, as a child is, to the playful gusts of the wind. The wind too, is a part of this great dance, boldly directing whichever way the dancers float too, and adding sudden affects, unpracticed surely, but a beautiful touch. Yet, the leaves don’t mind this sudden improvisation. They gently sweep their skirts to the side, and continue their dance. You too, feel the wonder of this great dance, but like the end of every dance, you lose the wonder of watching them and grumble how it would hurt you to clean them up. The crew, whom you once viewed as wonderful artists, are now a h*censored*le, only there to harry you on your way. The sun leaves (pardon my pun), and stately glides away, to view another dance somewhere else. The branches rustle, disappointed that their temporary tenants have left so soon. They long of Elsewhere, where their tenants do not hurry to their performance so soon. Yet, these hosts rustle softly to themselves, still re*censored*ured that their lovely dancers will sprout again, perhaps in a more beautiful form. The landscape stills, as if all of Nature is thinking heavily about that, and then the tree’s move no more, ready to patiently wait out next year’s performance. Meanwhile, the once beautiful dancers, like their hosts, lie patiently, ready to sleep out their well deserved rest. The wind is impatient, and never wants to wait. He sends out pushes, light ones and sharp jabs alike, to hurry these sleeping ladies to awaken. He makes them dance, albeit weakly, but never stops trying. You, the crowd, shake your head in amusement of Sir Wind’s antics, and hurry your way on home, where the sun shines, and the wind blows....

Wow that was long o3o  I hope Sudo woodo was proud

sudo! Hope you like my story!

 Autumn

     I am Silverstar, leader of Skyclan, one of the four Otachie clans. This is the story of our hardest autumn.

     This autumn was around 18 moons ago. It was brutally cold, cold enough to drive prey into hiding. There was tension between the clans. Each clan was accusing the others of stealing what little prey there was.

     Kits were small and getting no bigger. Herbs were freezing and becoming useless. Then, the day before our first fall Gathering, it snowed. For people, this was around the end of September.

     A few days after, the tension became overwhelming. A Skyclan patrol was attacked at a border by Oceanclan warriors. A battle followed. The battle only lasted an hour, but after it was over, the four Clans vowed to help each other in times of need.

It's that familiar smell, when the wind breathes that cool sensation. It's the way the leaves crunch on the sidewalk when I'm walking to your house. I've always wondered what was so mesmerizing about this orange and brown wonderland, why you liked it so much. I sort of hate it, how one day things are sunny and warm and full of color, then the next it's cold and the leaves on the trees are dying. I hate this jacket. I hate these gloves. I hate my hair down, today I'm wearing it up. You always said I looked lovely with my hair down, you said you loved this jacket on me, and the gloves you bought me to match it. But what I hate most of all is walking by your house, your empty and still house. Today is October 5th, and I'm bringing you flowers. The orange and yellow ones you brought me for my birthday last year. They're pretty, really. I miss you. The cemetery is only a block away from your house. I hope you like the flowers. Tomorrow I'll wear my hair down. 

Sudo.

Bonsly. Sudo. >->;

 The junker, if I so win, is the sepia Sirleon.

     There was a silence in the air, apart from the parched rustling of dead leaves swirling around in the taciturn breeze. A single maple tree sat upon the hill, it's crimson leaves freshly painted for the ballroom.

     Other trees were just getting dressed for their evening outing-- still just pale yellow with small hints of green. Others proudly displayed a neon orange, unaware how gaudy they looked. And yet still others wore their year-round casual green-- why aspire when you can blend.

     They were going to the dance tonight-- or, to be specific, their leaves. The mockingbirds and thrushes and warblers had predicted tonight would be a windstorm of the ages.

     And then the gales begin, sweeping the leaves off their feet and into the open air, twirling and swirling in elegant pirouettes. The sky was their ballroom; the night was theirs to choose.

There once was a boy who lived in the woods. He never spoke, and always ran from others. For as long as anyone could remember, he'd been alone in there.

They say that he was a beautiful boy. His skin was pale and dotted with freckles, his hair was varying shades of red and blonde. Though few ever saw him, and fewer still met his eyes, they say they were his most striking feature: wide and blue like the clear autumn sky itself. Some called them haunting and said he was a ghost. Others said they were kind and that he was an angel. Still more said he was simply a lost child and had become part of the woods, like the trees and the squirrels.

A decade of the boy and his rumors went by, and the child grew to a young man. These days it seemed more people considered him a spirit or a demon, frightened that such a person could live without words and without family. My mother often said that she wondered if he was lonely.

We were the same age, the forest boy and I. When I was sixteen, I decided to see for myself if I could discover his story. So early one morning, I packed a hankerchief with two cheese sandwiches and a compa.ss, and made for the woods. After hours of walking, I came upon an arrangement of boulders and slabs, and sat to eat the lunch I'd packed. I was lost and I knew it, but I was confident that I would be able to find my way home. I had a compa.ss, after all. All you had to do was follow the red arrow, right? I took it out of my bag and set it on the rock, watched it teeter. I shook it and watched it again.

As I ate and played with the trinket, I didn't notice the leaves falling around me, for who watches leaves fall in autumn? Everyone knows it happens, that the leaves change colors and fall.

I had finished my lunch and was packing up to continue searching when I heard a laugh to my right. Quickly I followed the sound. I was certain I was running in a straight line, but suddenly I found myself emergnig through the trees by the rocks again. Now, the afternoon sun filtered through the patchy branches, creating a halo of light on the scene. On top of the tallest rock, the forest boy sat, kicking his bare feet and looking up at the leaves that still clung to the trees. I stayed still and I watched him. What was he doing? From this angle, I could tell that his eyes were as blue as they said. I could see the freckles and the fire-colored hair. But what was he looking at? Was there an animal? A spirit?

As I stepped into the clearing for a better look, my shoes crunched against the fallen leaves, and the forest boy looked at me. He didn't seem afraid, but he didn't speak. I waved at him.

"What are you looking at, up there?" I asked him. He smiled at me, and I didn't think he understood, but then he looked up again and pointed. Suddenly an autumn breeze picked up some of the weaker leaves and sent them swirling around the boy. As they blew around him, he laughed again, and it was a beautiful sound. He kicked his feet with excitement. When the leaves settled on the forest floor, the boy sighed and turned his gaze skyward again.

He was actually just sitting there and watching the leaves fall. And he was enjoying it.

Curious, I moved a little closer. "Can I join you?" I asked him. He smiled at me and patted the spot beside him on the rock, so I sat and watched the leaves fall with him. It was beautiful, to watch the wind gently ease them off their branches, to watch them swirl around us and finally to rest on the forest floor. I watched the leaves fall until there was only one leaf left on the tree above us.

The forest boy and I watched in anticipation, and finally another gust blew it from its home. We held hands and we watched it float around us. Suddenly, he reached out for the leaf, and when he touched it, his body shifted. It shifted and scattered into a hundred different colored leaves, and the wind picked up and blew them around me. Then they floated to the ground, and they were still.

I stayed there until tears came to my eyes. I cried for a while, and then I took out my compa.ss to head back, but no matter what direction I went, it always pointed back towards the rocks. So I left it there, and I began walking. I walked for hours, but I found my way home before dark.

When I opened the door to my house, my mother was cooking dinner. When she saw me, she pulled me into a tight embrace and sobbed. Then she stepped back and stared at me. "You've been gone for weeks!" she told me, and then she gasped and looked at me closely. "Your eyes..." she whispered. Startled, I went to a mirror. Staring back at me were the eyes of the forest boy, bright and clear and blue, when they should have been brown.

I told my mother of the story, and she believed me, but she was the only one. Sometimes I wonder if what happened was a dream or a vision, but I remember it too sharply to believe my doubts. I return every year to that spot, to give my respect to the forest boy. I bring him a different trinket every time. Once a mirror, once a pocket watch. But the most important thing I bring him is company. I sit there on the tallest rock, and I turn my face to the treetops.

I watch the leaves fall.

(And you all thought yours were long...)

As the leaves dance across the gr*censored*,

I realize my true calling,

To run below the shining br*censored*,

Of the sun that's just falling.

All the colors of the flame,

And the wind that makes it crawl,

It lists only one certian name,

And that certian name is Fall.

Of all the changin seasons,

Thats the one that I like best,

To run in bare feet for no reason,

And leave behind the rest.

Written by: Rhianna McPherson  (BellaSwan15)

sudo

Autumn Leaves:

Autumn leaves so gently fall

before we see the snow...

Before they wither and die,

their bright colors we will know.

I love the days of Autumn,

when God like a artist fair

Takes out His paintbrushes

colors streak the air.

The reds, and greens, and browns

do softly tumble down

as God dresses the earth in a

coat of many colors

Just before the snows do fall.

written by Dianna (HMC)

junk pet is sceamer

Sudo. O<

The breeze tickled my cheek, then whispers in my ear, provoking my longing. I sigh, taking in the cool air. Around me the leaves glitter with the dew of the new morning. They twirl in a dance, spinning around each other before settling on the hard ground. I watch as a pair of orange leaves tango with each other, their laughter a rustle in the wind. Memories haunt me, knowing I'll never experience that tango. That laughter. That happiness. As I crunch them beneath my boots, I smirk, glad to grind their lives into the ground, forbiding them to take their last breaths. The cool gentle breeze turns into a harsh, unforgiving wind. I am soon surrounded by a tornado of leaves. Green. Brown. Yellow. Orange. Red. A clash of colors. Only the dance is not one of love, but one of war. Their  paper-thin wings ripped from their stems, spun around battered and torn. I can almost hear their cries as they drift from the tree, as they seperate from each other. Finally, the wind ends and they descend to the earth. Pieces and shreds of leaves litter the ground. I only glance at their degrading carcas.ses as I continue through the forest, where the same dances resume. Where the pain haunts me. Autumn was my favorite season, always cheering me and lifting my hurt along with the leaves. But now, all it does is remind me of what could have been.

 There once was a cricket in Autumn

Who was lazy and sat on his bottom.

When winter came 'round

He regretably found

That with no food he had quite a problem.

-bows- Sudo the snail was my inspiration. -nodnod- 

Sudo. C: (junkie is 'aasws')

I haven't written a poem in a while (since I did my sig one..lmao), so I suppose I'll do that~

Autumn, Autumn, hide the sun.

I'm done with summer, although it was fun.

Autumn, Autumn please drop your leaves,

So I can stomp and crunch them on your short Autumn eves.

Grant me breaks from back-to-school,

I'll eat some turkey and dress up as a ghoul.

Autumn, Autumn, you're almost here.

Then Summer, Summer, you'll disappear.

Ah autum, why do you cry?

Why are you sorrowfull?

Why do you mourn?

I know why the autum cries,

said the sudo,

I know why Autum is sorrowfull,

I know why Autum mourns.

Because autum brings death,

death to the summer.

Autum hates the duty,

But knows why Summer must die

So summers children can come forth.

First Winter, then Spring,

And finally another summer,

Who in turn must also die....