My Girl

A tree falls in love with a human child, only to watch her drift away as the girl grows older. The tree is heart broken, and doesn't know what to do... perhaps anger, rage, and destruction is the path to take...

The sun shone lovingly down upon me, causing each of my milky new leaves to gleam with a brilliance equivalent to miniature green stars.  Wind teased my rather spindly branches in a most magnificent way, and every eye was glued to me, as was appropriate might I add.  I was surrounded by a sea of bubbly, green clad humans who were all inspecting their new, official, city tree.  Me, an unbelievably gorgeous sycamore.  Although I was only a mere 10 years, I was already showing the promises of being a truly magnificent tree.

            Williamsburg, a small town, had somehow produced quite a large turnout for the “Earth Day-Birthday” ceremony, and humans were crammed into every available space as the mayor raised a bullhorn to his lips.  “Ladies and gentlemen.  It is now finally time for the instillation of our city tree!  Did everyone bring their shovels?”

            A noise quite like swords being drawn from the belts of valiant knights ever so long ago filled the square.  But there were no knights.  No icy blades of death waiting to salute my obvious majesty.  How very disappointing.  Instead, the town’s people waved about all manner of trowels and hand shovels, seeming so excited I was afraid they might start a riot of some sort.  The mayor, seeming cool and unconcerned, chuckled at the crowd’s obvious eagerness (while I contemplated just what kind of city I had been brought to) and continued to speak.   “Very good, very good.  But before we do anything, let’s all thank Miss Aubrey and her mother for organizing this wonderful Earth Day event.  And of course, I think we all need to wish Miss Aubrey a happy birthday!”  Rambunctious cheers burst out joyously from the crowd, and there she was.  My girl.  Her cheeks had burst into an excited blush, and her black curls bounced as she hopped from foot to foot in anticipation.  Ever caring fingers ran along my bark lovingly, and she whispered, “Look, they love you!  No other town will ever have such a beautiful tree.”  I wished I could reach out to hug my little six year old girl.  My Aubrey.

            The years passed and my girl continued to love and nurture me.  I could expect a visit from her at least twice a week and she usually brought a friend or two to play around my ever widening trunk.  Yet before she left, friends or no, she would throw her tiny arms around me, and whisper the same thing.  “I love you.”  Those three words.  So simple, yet I found that I relied upon them more than water or even the lovely sunlight from above.

            I watched her grow, each year passing as quickly as it does only through a tree’s eyes.  Every week she looked a little older, but she never seemed to grow out of her childish love for me, or that tender heart of hers.  But I remember the day when everything finally did change, and not for the better. 

            She arrived alone at my immaculate grass knoll in the city’s heart, and her face, for once was somber.  Of course, she had been sad during visits before, but even then her tears had had an innocent and naive air about them, as if she had not yet discovered the world’s true horrors.  Yet that seemed to have disappeared within the span of just one insignificant week.

            In her fingers she clutched a frilly yellow flower, her favorite kind, as she had told me many times in the past.  She took her usual seat between two of my protruding roots and stared silently at the blossom for a minute or two before finally speaking.  “Brice gave me this,” she whispered, her gaze still locked on that wretched flower.  She turned to face me, and I noticed another change. This time, it was her eyes. Where they had once been open doors to her pure and innocent soul, they were now more reserved and calculating.  “I’m fourteen now,” she said matter-o’-factly.  “And I’m talking to a tree.”  Giving a cold kind of giggle, she said the words that truly marked her transformation and filled me with grief, “I remember when I used to think you could actually hear me.” 

            Used to?  Did that mean… she no longer did?  Did she think that her best friend, me, her tree, no longer wished to listen?  Or… couldn’t listen?  A shudder traveled along my bark, and each and every one of my leaves felt as if they would shrivel up and fall off as they were robbed of the love they thrived off of.  Unaware of the wrenching pain she had caused, Aubrey walked away, leaving behind all remnants of her childhood.  Including me.

            A week passed.  Two.  Still no visit.  In no time at all, several years had flown by and Aubrey hadn’t given me so much as a second glance.  My health began to fail slowly, and I was assaulted with all manner of fertilizers and sprays by concerned citizens, yet to no avail. Perhaps if Aubrey would simply show a frown of concern, a head tilt in my direction, anything! I might have been able to grow a bit better. Maybe suffer through these horrible times, alone as I was.  But she never did, and it seemed as if she never would.  So I grew worse, each dawn bringing a fresh coat of blackened leaves unto the ground below; the inky tears of a forgotten soul.  My girl was gone.  What else was there to live for?

            It was four years after that horrible day when I finally received recognition from Aubrey, but not the kind I had been seeking.  She was walking past, surrounded by a group of friends; hand firmly clutched by her latest boy.  Pink and green streaks now looped through her hair, and they bounced furiously along with the original black curls as the girl closest to me called Aubrey’s name.  She raised a finger and pointed mockingly at me as her little pig face twisted into a smirk, “Remember when you used to be like, in love with that tree you got for Christmas, or your birthday, or whatever it was?”  Aubrey’s eyes rolled skyward and she snorted, “Yeah, stupid old tree.”

            Time stood still.  What had she just said?  The skies above me darkened and began to rumble, as if my overwhelming anger and grief was right there, boiling above my head.  Not even the slightest breeze disturbed the pre-storm sky, yet my branches began to whip through the air, as I, fueled by hatred, was able to move of my own accord for the first time.  People looked upwards anxiously, and most fled indoors.  But what they didn’t know was the thing they truly had to fear, was sitting right in the middle of their own town square.  I would gain vengeance for my broken heart.

            Weeks passed, and although the humans did not know it, I was slowly satisfying my thirst for revenge.  Each night I would take someone else.  I swallowed them into my broad trunk, using my branches as a means to lift their thrashing bodies.  They often screamed, but no one ever heard.  I was careful, and when the disappearances hit the newsstands, they never suspected me.  Why should they?  They seemed to think that I was simply there for their enjoyment.  That I didn’t have a mind… or a heart.  (A broken heart, but a heart all the same.)  However, I couldn’t seem to avoid getting their clothing and possesions and such stuck to my thinner branches.  And no matter how I thrashed about, I simply couldn’t shake them loose.

            Panic began to spread through the tiny town.  Each missing person brought forth a fresh wave of hysteria, much to my satisfaction.  The horrid creatures deserved every dreadful second they were forced to endure.  How did it feel to a human, I wonder, to have their loved ones ripped away, just like me?  Did it feel as if the world had stopped spinning?  As if there was no reason to continue if you couldn’t you couldn’t feel their touch or hear the whisper of their voice?  I dearly hoped so.  I did not pray, for trees do not believe in such human things, but if there was a god, I’d like to picture him laughing maliciously alongside me, enjoying the pain of those who had tortured his most treasured and perfect creation.  Me.

            As their panic grew, so did their suspicion.  They readily blamed the disappearances on anyone who gave them reason to doubt.  Every new explanation served as a form of hope that they could feast and live off of. Some of the more delusional town’s people had even gone so far as to claim that their loved ones must still be alive.  “Their bodies never were found.  So how do we know what happened to them?” panted a haggard and stress ridden woman one day.  Though I could not be heard, my response was somewhat instantaneous.  ‘Of course you haven’t found them.’ I thought gleefully.  ‘That’s because they’re snug and warm in my toasty little belly.’

            And so everything went well for me.  I watched them wallow in their fear and throw about false accusations at one another, while I grew bigger and stronger with each new victim taken.  I was untouchable.  Until my one big mistake.  I had set my sights on a rather plump man.  He was walking jauntily down the road, the fear which gripped most of the city not seeming to affect him.  That only made me all the more eager to capture him.  A bit too quickly, my branches snaked out to twine around his ankles.  I wasn’t careful, and forgot to watch for human spectators.  I was just finishing up my meal when I heard a muffled sob.  There, on the street corner, was a panicking couple, clutching each other’s hands and looking at me with terror.  Annoyed, I attempted to catch them, but fear made them quick, and they darted out of the way and towards town hall. 

            Before long, sirens were blasting and people were beginning to make their way cautiously toward me.  The mayor, looking exhausted and half wild stormed up to my trunk, crude pruning shears in hand.  His voice boomed across the night sky, “Citizens, our investigations have been wrongly led.  It was not a person who is doing this.  No, it was this hideous monster of a tree!”  That’s funny; it seemed as if it were just the other day he was fawning over my fresh coat of budding leaves.

            Transferring the shears to his left, he used his right hand to reach up and snatch one of the belts from my branches.  He held it high above his head and shouted, “This is it!  This is the hideous creature that has been picking us off one by one.  This is…” But the mayor never got to finish his oh-so-inspiring speech.  Because I had heard enough.  With his portly body so close to my trunk, it was elementary to simply swallow him whole.  The town’s people screamed in fright and anger, and fled. I reveled in my defeat of the annoying humans, but my victory did not last long.

            In a matter of minutes, they had assemble again, creeping forward like coach roaches, shouting and chanting, this time armed with all manner of weapons that might strike fear into even the most valiant tree’s heart. (That being me of course.)  But suddenly, a great quiet came over the town.  Every citizen stood stock still for a moment, and I in turn did not stir in the slightest.  Then they tensed, shuffled, and as a whole, rushed towards me in a screaming, deadly mob. 

            But of course I couldn’t stand for that.  With a heave, I ripped several of my strongest roots out of the ground, sending them crashing into various people and buildings.  Screams filled the air, yet those disgusting creatures kept advancing.  Before long, almost every one of my study branches and roots were being used to cause destruction of some sort or, of course, keep back those ever advancing humans with their filthy saws and other torture implements.  I was filled with malicious glee, until, to my surprise, I saw her.  My Aubrey.

            Her face was streaked with tears, and her skin coated with a thin layer of grime.  I saw into her eyes, and she was back; that little girl I had known so many years ago. But now she was unprotected, afraid, alone. She walked towards me, her arms outstretched, and I parted my branches to provide a path of peace through the chaos.  When she reached my trunk, she began to sob tried to hug me, as she had done when she was young, only to realize that her arms no longer fit.  This served as a painful reminder of all the missed years and neglect, bringing forth a fresh wave of tears.  I could taste their salty sadness upon my bark, and feel the fierce regret which burned within her heart. 

            I loved my girl, and was glad she had returned, but I never wanted to lose her again, and I wanted to protect her from all the worlds hatred; all the terror.  So gently, as a mother might cradle their newborn, I scooped her up in my softest branches and drew her into me, until she had completely vanished from sight of the human world, and entered mine.  She was finally where she belonged, and we were one.

            In the years following that chaotic night, peace forever reined in the town of Williamsburg.  The town’s people pieced their lives back together and moved on.  However, they did have a special memorial stone made just for my Aubrey, after a child relayed the dramatic events of our reunion.  Many classmates of hers often came to drop flowers at our roots, and shed more than a few tears as they indulged in memories of sweet times spent together. 

            But life did not continue entirely unchanged.  Now that Aubrey lived as part of me, she added her own touch to each and every one of my branches.  Frilly, yellow flowers, which seemed to attract every butterfly and hummingbird within a six mile radius, now blossomed happily beside my lobed leaves.  All around us, people, buildings, and the town itself grew older, but we continued to flourish in our youthful tree years.  And so we lived on for all eternity in our shared love.  Just me and my girl.  Just me and my Aubrey.         

                 

 

Author's Note

This is one of my favorites out of all my stories! It started out as a four page narrative for my English class, but I really couldn't stop writing. I felt like there was so much more story to tell. I hope you like it, and please, criticism is why I wanted to put this online in the first place. So if you have any comments or criticism to share, feel free! I would love it!

Reviews

[Karen Ingram]

This is TRULY unique. Never in my life would I have thought about a tree falling in love with a human. (Although I do have one about a drawing- but it's much darker.) These are not necessarily criticisms, so much as observations you may want to bear in mind if you plan to revise it in the future.

Your tree is VERY human. It understands human speech, it knows the name of the town it lives in, and the passage of time is referred to in human terms (weeks, years, etc.). IF I were to write a story about a tree, I would probably avoid all reference to sight and sound because trees lack the proper organs to use such terms. (At least, I suspect so.) So, how to define the passage of time? How to describe this girl your tree loves? You would have to rely on other senses - namely touch. A fantastic example of how this is done would be the novel "Johnny's Got His Gun" by Dalton Trumbo. If you have a chance, please read this book (but be prepared, because it is very sad). The main character is a man who has lost his eyes, ears, nose, mouth and all of his limbs (a terrible result of war). He's literally incapable of doing anything except lying there. And yet he knows which nurse is which because of their footsteps and the way they change his bandages. He knows what time of day it is from the sensation of sunlight on his skin. And so on. He even learns how to "speak" to them.

You don't have to change your tree if you're happy with this story. But bear in mind it has far more potential that remains untapped. :o) Good luck, and happy writing.

[Ama May Cooper]

Wow.. quite simply wow.. it was beautifully done and i like the way your character was indeed a tree, a very unexpected way of narration.
I loved the way the tree belived this girl to in a way belong to him, adn that upon loosing it was a simple case of taming the frendly giant.. I lvoed this peace beautifully creative
I do have to ask tho... becaus ei am confused i assume he did not kill the girl because sh eis brining him flowers and what not, but didnt he also bring the people to his trunk, why do they not play a part in his growing or did they end up somewhere else?.. Are they dead?.. if not then where are they, and how come she has not suffered the same fate, surely if they are ending inside his trunk, the final outcome should be the same.
All together i loved reading this and will be sure to cheak out more of your work later

[cloister]

The biggest challenge (IMHO) with casting a non-human as your narrator is creating a believably non-human mentality. In all meaningful respects, your tree sounds like a person, not like a tree. This makes it harder to buy into the story. For example: the tree compares the sound of shovels to swords being drawn by medieval knights. How would a tree know this? The tree refers to Earth Day as an event. How would the tree know of such a thing? Why would a tree even have a mental framework for the concept that particular days can be marked for special celebrations? Those are human concepts, not tree concepts.

Trees don't really have minds or concepts, but for the story to work at all we have to presume that they do. This is the "willing suspension of disbelief" that readers will perform in order to engage with your story. In mutually agreeing that, for the duration of the story we will both presume that trees _do_ have minds, you need to reward the reader by presenting a believable "tree-mind."

This is where the story fails to grab me, because the tree comes across as too human. If you can create an interesting, plausible pattern of thoughts and concerns that a tree might have, you can then show us how the tree would feel about having a particular girl who visits often and shows the tree affection. That will make for an intriguing and innovative story.

[Marlena]

That's so creative! I loved this, and I like how they're reunited at the end. Very nice work here ^^