The following was written in response to this writing prompt.
I tell you this so it will not be forgotten. Maybe you will learn something useful.
I grew up in a single-family house. In the front yard, dangerously close to the curb, grew a cherry blossom tree. When it bloomed, light pink petals decorated the landscape; they matched well with the house’s cream colored exterior. Hidden within the bark of the tree were cicadas, resting for 13 years before making their appearance of devastation. Once, I was playing around with the tree, and I stuck my finger into a hole some insect or bird had bore into it. When I removed my finger, a cicada flew out and went straight for my face. I ran, screaming, into the house.