Freedom in the Forest

Fiction Editor Evie Buckley, LVI, paints a vivid image capturing the freedom experienced when immersed in nature.

Evie Buckley

Fiction Editor, 2025

Photography by Jasmine Dent

Art Co-Director, 2025

A soulful tree stood, proudly framed by a soft cascading light in the heart of the forest. Its trunk, thick and rough, was battered and bruised by the many centuries of wind and rain, whilst its bark, once a rich chestnut, had faded solemnly to a muted grey. It was scattered with sable cracks, revealing glimpses of the pale flesh, raw beneath the gnarled bark. Its branches were alive, teaming with clusters of pale green leaves like powdered paint, so softly green they were often mistaken for a creamy white. The leaves shimmered and fluttered, tickled by a gentle breeze, as if whispering secrets to the wind. Their edges glowed with vibrant greens and were kissed with hints of soft amber and gold, catching and filtering sunlight into soft, dappled shadows on the forest floor. The breeze carefully stirred the branches, allowing ripples of light, like a slow-moving tide, to momentarily illuminate patches of wildflowers and tumbling leaves, soaring like parachuters into the air. The earth was abundant with moss and ferns, woven together with ancient tree roots, and a solitary spider’s web sparkled like silvery lace framed by the resplendent orb of light that rose high into the sky. Its light seeped further into the shadows of the forest, a glowing beacon, slipping between the swaying branches of the trees and scattering among the delicate mushrooms, some bright white, others deep crimson or pale lavender, their caps smooth and glossy. The air felt alive, humming with the whisper of the leaves and the occasional flutter of wings overhead. There was an ease of tranquillity within the forest, a feeling of freedom.