Word Sprint

It was bitter cold. The tree shivered, its leaves rustling, whispering in the gloom.

It was a very lonely time of year; Liadian did not like winter. She looked back on her memories from her long lifespan; her life as a seedling in the hard, clay dirt, and the forest she had come from. There where other trees, once; lots of spruce, some holly bush, and her close friends, the beech. Now she was as tall as the old beech trees, but she felt no happiness in her sudden growth spurt.

She lived in the field for a little more than a century; she was getting old, and winter made her nostalgic. She wondered where her seedlings flew off to, and would they wake up in the cold, or in the deep ground as she had. Would they know what was in store for them?

The ground, perhaps, was better than it was atop of the earth. It was always warm, and it breathed a life into a seed that smelled like the breath of God. It was comforting, and in it she had found solace. No longer, now that she was tall and exposed.

Here, fully-grown and perched above the duff, she not only felt the extreme of the seasons, but she witnessed horrible things. Just the other day, a leggy man had come with a young boy--his son, maybe, or a nephew--and behind the boy was a mutt. It looked like a kind of herding dog with hound in it, and at the time, Liadian wondered if they were here to hunt. She had nothing against hunting; it made it better for those who were looking to make themselves something in this world. The fox got shot; it made room for the raccoons. The raccoons get shot, it makes room for the fox. It was a good balance--and it was always fair.

But then she noticed that the man’s gun was not aimed at any wild animals, which weren’t in abundance, aside from the deer that would come, looking to forage. Liadian was silent, keeping to herself. The other trees were quiet, too; but they were dumb--mute trees, that is.

The boy was crying and he didn’t utter a word, just whimpered, softly, like a bird. The man patted the boy on his shoulder, saying, “Sonny, it’ll hurt me more than it’ll hurt you,” and he took aim. The dog’s amber eyes were hollow, sick; he looked like a wild thing half into death’s doors.

“Why?” the boy whispered. “I--” But the man shook his head. “Get behind the tree, son.” The boy followed. Liadian had shivered her branches over the boy, whispering in a voice she was sure only he can hear: Everything comes full circle. The boy looked around in amazement, then--the thunder of the gun echoed across the glen, reverberating off of the spruce, the beech, and the holly, which shook with a kind of foreboding.

“Rff!” The dog was drug back by the force of the gunshot; he panted, closed his eyes, and never opened them again.

Liadian now looked over at the dog’s body, called back to the present. The snow had started to fall, dusting the decaying skin with a soft, white coat.

Everything comes full circle, Liadian had said. She wondered if she had sounded bitter; or if she was any comfort to the boy. Then there was a voice.

The tree scanned the horizon, and out of the pines came the boy. She had not expected him to be back again. He had a shovel, and though the dirt was hard, he began to dig. Snow had covered him completely, his ears beat red and throbbing by the time he had made even the tiniest hole in the hard earth.

Boy, Liadian said, pausing for a moment. He looked up. “You can speak!” he said. Yes. The tree would have smiled, were she able. I know a man who visits me ever so often. He’s got some of that new technology.

“With the steam?” the boy asked, his eyes glistening. Yes. It was a lie, but she couldn’t bear to watch the kid suffer like this over the likes of a rabid dog. I will have him bury your dog for you. In return, may I ask a favor? The boy nodded.

I have four seedlings on my branches that did not make it off me before the snows. Look how deep the snow is already. Please, boy; bury them for me in your hole. The boy smiled a soft, broken smile.

“Okay.” He said, putting his shovel down and gearing up to climb the maple. “Besides; everything comes full circle, right?”

Liadian was glad for the first time since the fall. She had made a friend. Perhaps being above the earth, away from nature’s womb, wasn’t so bad, after all.

Reviews

[Seracies]

I liked the moral of your story, and the perspective you had on trees. Very nice.