The Tree

A long ballad style poem with a horror undertone about a tree that is more than a tree.

The Tree

I was eight years old and simple

When the twisted tree took hold.

My father bought an apple farm

From cigarettes he'd sold.

A tattered truck from a friend

Carried everything we had.

I rode in the stained front seat

In the warm folds of my dad.

The night began to pull close

As we turned sharp down Fish Hill.

I saw the tree for the first time

Sharpened black against the chill.

It was too late to unpack.

Too late to eat a meal.

Sandwiches round a dead fire

Bread and pickled eel.

My parents took to business

And without a thought or care.

I was drawn to the garden

And the tree that stood there.

An oak of a hundred years

Twisted, gnarled and fine.

It's blackened trembling branches

Sent memories down my spine.

I stood there holden for an hour

Beneath its knotted limbs.

Until my sister pulled my hand

And took me on for hymns.

But as we sang and praised

Like we had done every night

I felt a new force driving me;

A new light sparking bright.

Acid churning stomach deep

And rising bile high

I watched my family singing

And thought I saw them die.

I felt the blackened rot

Take root within my soul.

A small thing that began to bloom

Began to consume me whole.

And that night as the lights went out

And I was kissed good dreams,

I felt the darkness stretch inside

Through walls and doors and beams.

Two weeks passed by in that house

And we drew close as four.

But I felt the darkness every night

When mummy closed my door.

When the sweet call became too loud

I'd slip outside and sit,

And let the darkness crawl into me

From some old nameless pit.

Our uncle visited us one day

And planned to stay a week.

He was kind and good and full of life;

Soft and kind and weak.

He cooked his heart and cooked his soul;

Bangers, Tatties, neeps.

I watched him smile and masticate,

Drooling from his cheeks.

Looking back I was a coward

I let a plant do my work.

Hemlock Water Droplet

Crushed in his dessert.

He was sick within the hour

And took himself to bed.

I waited till his strength was gone

And dragged him as he bled.

I laid him out like a star

At the base of the tree

And choked the last of life from him

As his eyes lost faith in me.

It was Christmas sometime

Although I don't recall the year.

Ice and frost cut sharp

And drove hard my sister's fear.

She'd long held close a secret

And tidal dream of lust.

Her thoughts were not of other boys

But of school friends on her bus.

I told her still to meditate,

To think deep down inside.

I showed her my tiny thinking place

When I felt that nagging tide.

Weeks drew worse and taunts grew barbs

And she wept more than not.

She found the tree a comfort place

And couldn't feel the rot.

One day I watched her from up on high

From the window of my room.

I watched her close her eyes and cry

As the tree set in her womb.

She found a blade beside her

A razor clean and free

I watched her draw a thin red line

And leak into the tree.

My parents found her wan and wake

Her breath loose whispered prayers.

They fought to save that tortured soul

As I watched cold upstairs.

I kept a bedside vigil

And shed tears like you'd expect.

But on the third night as the branches spoke

The tree came to collect.

I held the softest weapon,

Her favourite dressing gown.

I placed it on the face I loved

And tightly held it down.

Grief and fear filled every day

And harsh words filled the air.

Spittle and phlegm formed every word

Where once was only care.

Things changed one small Sunday

After a bitter and pointed row.

My father hit my mother hard

Drawing blood down from her brow.

She packed her things and left

Before the bruise had raised.

She didn't think to take me

Her face was fixed and crazed.

My father drank himself to where

The pain could barely reach.

Through the week by midday

He'd lost all power of speech.

Three months passed and I grew bored

Of his stupid petty groans.

I dragged his body sleeping

Over grass and cobblestones.

I left him in his darkness

A red candle burning bright.

The tree grew deep inside him

And took him away that night.

When my mother came back

I saw it in her face

A broken soulless shell

In this broken soulless place.

And in the years that came and slipped on by

She barely spoke at all

She sleepwalked to my adulthood

Then broke her spine in a fall.

I cried a shallow river

And wore black at her wake.

But was sick as a dog the next day

After eating too much cake.

I took my mothers jewellery box

And locked away the deeds

The house was mine to satisfy

That mighty oak tree's needs.

I could barely stand to work at all

But bills kept piling up.

A lodger, I thought, would satisfy

And fill the empty cup.

My first was a student

From somewhere in the East.

He studied law and history

And planned to work for Peace.

As months passed we grew close

And he told me secret things.

And long dark nights grew the thoughts

That long dark nights bring.

I nodded. Smiled. Touched his hand.

And promised him release.

Then I cut his throat and held him close

As I felt his pulse decrease.

I dug a hole as the night drew in

And whispered a secret spell.

I sliced his feet and cut his hands

And condemned him straight to hell.

Not a soul came looking for him,

Not a soul seemed to care

But the grass grew a little greener

And there was a sweetness in the air.

Moons waxed and moons waned

And a girl came to my bed.

I hooked her in a dank old pub

Where only locals tred.

I botched the kill through too much drink

As I bashed her with a cleaver.

I found bits of her for weeks and weeks

Like I couldn't bear to leave her.

The town was shocked and shattered;

That their Belle would never ring.

I would often think back fondly

On my glorious little fling.

The years dropped by one by one

As my twenties came.

For a while the tree eased its grip

And I felt my passion wane.

I took a wife and had a child

And we made the house our home

And all the tree demanded

Was some time with me alone.

I held down the voices well

And became my own at last

I only beat her bloody once

And I held her close and fast.

I'd sit against its nottled bark

And speak about my dreams.

I watched my boy grow in strength

As warm comfort took mine

I spent so long on pencil marks

I didn't look in his eyes.

The bloodline runs thick as oil

Through unknown family ways

And memories never quite sink low

When you're counting up the days.

But I never saw within him

The drive that drove my core.

I loved him from a distance

With a love that needed more.

So kind he was to others

A gentle boy and fine

That every night I watched him sleep

And doubted he was mine.

I tried to change and twist him

To make him see things real

To fill his heart with darkness

And feel the things I feel.

My work was too important

To finish when I died.

But I'd failed in my successor

He was Jekyll not a Hyde.

Years passed with small days

As black turned grey

And joints that were once friends

Gripped hard in cold days.

The ice was gripping by fingertips

As I click crunched to my tree

I kissed the silver knottled bark

And felt it run through me.

I never knew what drove me

What pulled my soul to kill

A sense of power in a senseless void

Or just the f*****g thrill?

I ran my hands, my face, my self

On the only thing I'd loved

When I felt the sharp jar of broken branch

Strike me from above.

A sudden blast of blackened pain

And I'm on the floor at last

Like a dozen souls I'd taken

I leaked myself out fast.

Nothing felt so very right

As the soil took my soul.

I let my warmth sink out of me

Let the damage take its toll.

Then I felt a thin slow blade

Slide through me and beyond.

Pulled out then pushed back

Its strokes deep and long.

The soiled blade felt sweet release

As dirt and me combined.

I closed my eyes and smiled

And let blackness close my mind.

The last I heard was a friendly laugh

and I knew that I had won.

The Apple doesn't fall far, I thought

The boy is my son.