The Hanging Tree

This is a piece I wrote in the 11th Grade when we studied Edgar Allan Poe Writings.

The Hanging Tree 

Sin was to be punished. Those who committed crime were to be hung in the hanging tree, for all the town to gawk at in fear. Or at least this is how it used to be. Now that very same tree sits alone in a vast field, unutilized. At a glance, one was able to see the trees former purpose. For old, broken ropes still remained tied to the otherwise bare branches. This tree had quite the reputation in the small town. It was said that those who visited the tree were to be lost and forgotten. Still, there were people who ignored the warnings and went to explore the tree regardless. Especially tourists and those who were unaware of the trees legend. Each of these people were destined to the same fate. They visited the tree and never returned. 

I witnessed one of these tragedies occur quite recently in fact. A couple came by car from a far away place. They were new to the area and were yet to hear of the trees strange occurrences. On their way to their new home in the small town, they came to a stop. They pulled up to the field and exited the car, standing still and quiet as they stared at the large tree in front of them. I can’t imagine what would possess them to break at this spot. The man opened the trunk of the car and removed a brown, woven basket, as the woman took out a dark colored quilt. They walked slowly over to the tree and laid down their blanket, taking a seat beside the trunk.  I watched them as they readied for their simple feast, unpacking a variety of food and drink. A shiny, sleek can of soda caught my attention. I can’t remember the last time I had a drink of the cold, bubbly liquid sliding out of the mesmerizing can. I longed to reach out and steal it, but I restrained myself. They sat and ate, all the while talking and laughing. I remember back when I would do that with my love. Needless to say, I was envious of the happy couple.

  In a moment, the woman got to her feet. She smiled at the man and turned to face the tree. She sized it up, admiring its height compared to hers; or so I assume. She appeared to have quite a fascination with the tree. It’s color as dark as the soil it sprouted from and its withering old bark at least 10 times as old as she. She began to circle the tree, dragging her hand along its exterior. Around and around she went, unaware that the ground beneath her was crumbling.  I scrambled to get a good vantage point.  I could hear the rocks falling and see the dirt pouring down like rain.  I heard her reach the back of the tree as the soil began to give out. One foot fell through, then the other, and soon she was down to her hips. Her torso appeared next, and finally I could see her pale, narrow face. I heard her scream as she fell. I could feel the man running to the back of the tree. But it was too late, she was gone. I looked at her at she lay on the ground in front of me, limp and still. She gave her final breath, and I knew soon, I would have a new friend. I went to check on the man. He was knelt down, head in hands, sobbing. He cried out his lovers name, Rachel. Rachel, I thought, nice to meet you.  

Author's Note

Please do not copy or steal, this is an original piece and I take pride in it