The Personal Accounts of Nature

this is a story.......i wrote it.....i hope you like it.........:)

Chapter 1

The Only Chapter

The tree sat on the hill and silently said goodbye to the two girls as they skipped down on their way. They had spent the day picnicking at his base. They climbed his arms and leaves fell. They had laughed and talked for hours. For a while one read a book while the other wrote a story in a journal. These girls reminded the tree of two other girls a long time ago. Hundreds and Thousands of years before, two girls similar to these had come and spent their day with him. They read and wrote, they laughed and talked, they were elated to spend their day with him and he with them. The tree had witnessed tens of hundreds of children, adults, and entire families spend their days in his shade. From when he was but a sapling and a toddler wandered up and fell asleep under his small branches, to, not but a few years ago, when a man and a woman made their vows to one another. He had been there for a long time and witnessed villages fall and be rebuilt. The tree had been through storms so horrible that even the most structural homes were ripped to shreds. But even though the tree had been through so much and watched so many lives he wanted more.
The tree didn’t want to watch anymore. He didn’t want to listen to conversations, watch the freshly baked pie cooling on the window down the hill from his roots. He wanted to speak in the conversations, eat and smell the pie. To put it quite simply the tree did not want to be a tree. He knew that most trees were happy. Trees in arboretums were perfectly content to sit and wait the hours away. The trees with houses built into them felt joy whenever some little child climbed into their arms. But it wasn’t that the tree didn’t enjoy these simple pleasures, the tree just thought there would be more to do if he was a human. Humans could run and jump. They speak in so many languages. They had names. They were different colors. They were unique, could express their style, personality, opinions. But the tree couldn’t. The tree must merely stand and grow. And then grow some more. Maybe shed some leaves. Then grow them back again. And the leaves were such a mess. Everywhere in the vicinity of his roots, there were leaves. More and more leaves. The leaves were ubiquitous. The tree started to get sick of the leaves. All he ever did was grow more and more, then drop them so he would get more and more leaves every year! What was this feeling inside of him, sadness? anger? No this was more than sadness and anger. This was longing. The tree longed to be away from the leaves. The tree wanted to run, to jump, to dance, to speak, to sing, smell, to taste, to leave, to make decisions!
Whilst the tree was caught up in his own astonishment of these new feelings, a storm had been raging. It blew over homes and rained upon people. It even electrocuted three homes in Greece. The storm was moving too. And it was moving fast. It was one of the biggest and fastest storms ever reported. The storm was called Nicole. Nicole whipped through countries. It spattered through cities. Nicole ran her mad angry course until she came to a tree. Just a single tree, its branches blowing around furiously in her winds. Leaves were flying off as if being thrown by an angry child. Nicole looked down upon her next victim. Her tears had flooded towns. Her breath had obliterated monuments. And her anger destroyed lives. She was terrified even of herself. It was she who killed many. She was a murderer. What was she to do with herself? She let out one enormous wail of sorrow and anguish as she flung herself at the earth below.
And that was the day the 1000 year old tree who didn’t want to be a tree any lonnger, who had feelings and hopes and dreams, the tree who had looked after so many, the tree who had created too much life, the tree who had sheltered many a weary traveler in a storm, fell and died, after being struck by a single bolt of lightning.

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