Friday Fairytale ahoy! This one is written in a florid style, which isn't really to my liking, but I tried to get that feeling of poetry some of the Brothers Grimm had in their stories. Often characters would talk in verse, and it is something I have tried in the below story. Enjoy and happy Friday all. 

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Its arms spread out to the heavens in winding twists and meandering bends. Heaving and creaking as a spring gale blew through the buds and body, the tree sighed with the resignation that comes with age. Night was creeping around the corner as the sky bleached itself peach and pink. Venus rose early on the horizon, blinking happily at the tree which swayed in acknowledgment, her voice floating across the cosmos sang

“Oh tree on the hill, with your arms strong yet weak. I promise you the dream you wish, I promise you what you seek.”

He had waited 250 years, and so he held no hope for the promises of stars. The night was deepening, its suffocating blanket descending on the life that surrounded him, all of which was at a distant, all on other hills. The only company he had was the whisper from the grass that was intertwined his roots. Some of it was part of him, so long together, roots and tendrils that had no beginning or end. Just a mass of dividing cells and relentless ambition, the magic of nature overcome with the mendacity of life.

“So tree with your epic growth, what is the will of the stars and the moths?” The grass gloated and goaded him. They found sanctity in similarity , as they bent in unison to the winds whim. They were not alone, but they were all the same. Sharp and short, curt and tactile, the grass would chide on the breeze.

“Grass,” the tree groaned “With foresight and heart, the stars make promises, the stars make me laugh. They promise me the one thing that I have waited for, since time immemorial, since time dot.”

“And what is that,” the grass did snigger, “A companion of your own, one to make you quiver?”

“Grass, you know that my seeds fall barren, the soil you hide is failing my heir apparent. So they cannot give the dream that I wish, so I sit here looking for nothing , thus disappointment is missed.”

The grass fell silent as the sun blinked beneath the horizon and there was only blackness. The velvet sky stretched itself, yawning awake across the horizon. The lights of houses blinked in the distance, but on his hill the tree swayed. He watched the wane and wax of the moon, the star white glimmer reflecting off the land. As the shooting stars scored the night sky, he saw something falling, well fluttering to him.

Buffeted by the winds, buffeted by the currents and eddies that were invisible, this light flew to him. Entering the tree, its distended truck jutting like a pot belly to this winged light.

No warmth or pressure came from the light, just the sensation that it was there, nestled in the folds of his wind chafed bark.

“And what are you, creature of night? What are you , creature of light?”

There was silence, until a hum rose from his body.

“I am Venus, and I am Eros, I am the sun and I am the moon.”

“You are not any of those things, you are a wisp, a beggar and cad. Why come to me light on this lonely moor.?”

“You called out to me, and I heard your song. Silhouetted on the hill, your leaves cried for me to come along.”

“Why tease me incubus, with your ethereal glow? Why tease me succubus, with your lazy drawl?” The tree groaned, twisting to release it.

“So many questions, on such a lonely night. Can’t your branches hold me, your bark protect me from the night?” replied the light with clicks.

“Settle down little one, I felt you were here to taunt. Sleep tight little one and I shall wake you at dawn.” The tree settled down and the light dimmed and disappeared.

“Little light, where have you gone? Little one, little one?” The light flared up,

“I am here tree, I have gone no where but in. My light it is draining, and so I stop and begin. I shine like the ebb of the tide, I fall in and now I fall out.” The light again dimmed and disappeared.

The tree chose to rest and he waited for the warming of the sun. As dusk bled up over the horizon, he stirred.

‘Little one, why are you here really. I dreamt last night that you left and merely wanted shelter.’

‘I will not leave, I shall bring you more of me….soon you will have what you desire.’

“But I thought you were what I was after?”

“I am part of an elaborate plan, one that may take years to fulfil.”

“I have one thing I can trust, and that is time.”

And so their relationship was born. Every night a new light would flutter towards the tree, as the fireflies built their nest on the oak.

One night, as the jet sky  bludgeoned the horizon, the tree spoke. ‘ Flies of light who live all around me, the grass still mocks and misery runs through me. Where is this promise of what I seek, have I been fooled, am I too meek?’

‘Tomorrow night,’ the chorus sang, ‘Tomorrow night we join your clan.’

The tree wept, so gently like thunder.

‘We promise you tree, our plan has been formed, we promise you tree you shall be reborn.’

The day was muggy and close, and the tree knew not what was coming. The grass laughed as the acorns were full and ripe and ready for planting, but they knew not what was to come.

Blackness descended and then the tree erupted. Every firefly began to sing, and shake their light. Like an upside down heart the tree shone more brilliantly than all the stars that were scattered above. Their voices rising, a flapping began, a flurry of wings and feathers as flock after flock descended on the oak tree, grabbing at the lights, the wings and beaks scattering the acorns far a field.

‘Come father this tree, birds from Hades, Come father this tree and end our palsy.’

The violence and the beauty mirrored each other as life took full control. As the feathers and carcasses fell to the earth, the birds having had their fill, a solitary light rose up.

‘Hello mother, and father, our plan has been actioned. I shall leave you now but I hope we are remembered.’

‘I don’t know what you’ve done, or how you did it, but I hated to see you sacrifice for nothing.’

‘Nothing is ever for nothing dear tree, all I ask is soon that you remember me.’

The light flew off and the tree was alone, the grass began to laugh, all hollow and cold.

‘Now your fairy lights have deserted you also, they would rather die than help you, listen to us you should have.’

But the low rumble of life that we are deafened to began to erupt all around them. Puncturing the soil, with birdsong and energy, little saplings arose , all surrounding the oak. His children would grow strong and all thanks to the light.

Venus cried on the horizon, having given her promise, an orchard of children, an orchard of hope. The grass fell silent, under their shadowy bow, and the tree remembered and old proverb,

‘You reap what you sow.’

 - Anand