The Tree On Top of the Hill

A very short yet inspiring story about how a tree on top of the hill changed the life of a typically adventurous girl.

That day, the sun waved me “good bye” as it gradually sets down to sleep. A refreshing breeze tottered the grass and madly twittered the leaves and branches of the surrounding trees. It touched my skin, swiftly yet heavily. It flattered my hair across my face. That day, I was climbing a steep hill, endeavoring to reach its top where the tallest and oldest tree proudly stood. 

I looked back and reminisced my younger days when I first met that tree. I was looking at this bald hill from afar when I thought I should see what’s on top of it. I ran as fast as I could along the dry, thirsty and rocky soil, enjoying the tensile strength of my joints. I brought nothing with me but the dream of reaching the hilltop despite the unknown odds. I fell and slid on slippery edges a bunch of times and even had my knees wounded, yet I endured it all. I let out a loud sigh as I made my last step on the top. I lifted my head, opened my eyes and held my mouth open as I realized the sublime creation. It was abundant with green, happy leaves and gifted with wide, muscular trunk. The tree’s branches gracefully bent over me, as if embracing and protecting me. I went under it and grazed upon the rough details of its wood. It seemed alive, breathing. It stood proudly as if it knew that he was purposefully erected there. I placed my ear closed to its trunk and listened carefully for a heartbeat. I stepped heavily on its tentacles and wondered how strong they were. I sat under it, staring at it on this view. “This thing found its purpose.” I thought, “When I grow up, I want to be like this tree.” Since then, I’d been climbing the hilltop to rest under that tree after a whole day’s innocent laughter and play.

That day, I thought of going back there to see again its magnificence. I was 21 years of age, t’was long ago the last time I saw it. That day, I was lost, confounded and was morbidly tested by the world. Perhaps, I desired to be invigorated and motivated by the life I found in that tree. I was climbing again, this time, to a healthy hill. It was way too easier than the first time since it already was embedded with stairs out of woods and stones. Three steps and I’d finally reach the top. “How does it look like now?” One, two, three. The tree’s gone. I found nothing but the half of its trunk. I gradually took few steps closer and painfully, hesitantly peeped in its huge rounded hole. It was dark and empty. Dead. 

Right there and then I realized that the same tree had just helped me climb the hill. 

Author's Note

This is purely fiction. But the idea of "a tree on top of the hill" is after a portion of Ayn rand's Atlas shrugged. I just thought that we all have our own "tree on top of the hill." What does your tree symbolize? A million thanks to you who have read. :)

Reviews

[Sydney Dreama]

This is very nice. It is short sweet and to the point.
Can't wait to read more of your writing in the future.

[pennypauper]

Thank you so much, Sydney Dreama! You've uplifted me. :)