31 Days// Original//
June 6: Deep Roots
Original
Faery of the Cherry Tree
Summary: His mother wanted the tree for her garden. Childishly, he thought he could bring it to her.
The little boy ran to the cherry blossom tree, crushing the flowers beneath his bare feet, determined to move it to his home.
The tree had overlooked his birth, having been planted by his long absent father who left to sea and never returned. It had watched the child, its delicate branches dancing in the wind during his birth and other festivities, voices of the faeries who lived within the leaves singing during the rainstorm, its sweet smell beckoning to the few children whom he had learned to call his friends. It witnessed his brother's accident, the bird's nest rooted within its branches having been the reason for the small boy to have been so high in the first place. Its presence was comforting, and so he, even more than his mother, wanted to move it closer to the house.
It seemed to scowl down at him with its bare branches and mean looking twigs twisting into the sky. It groaned against the wind, which pushed it towards their little two-room house even as he dug deep into the earth to find the end of the tree so that he could move it, his little hands clawing at the frozen dirt and snow.
In the days when the tree was happy, his mother would have stood at the door and beckoned him back inside from the cold. A roaring fire could have met him within the door. Instead, it was cold, the door hanging open to reveal the frightening picture of a pale woman, her body tucked under a blanket. In the cold the boy could see his breath. He could not see hers within the house.
The tree, its roots planted far too deeply into the ground, witnessed the end of the boy's life as he slumped against its trunk in comfort, and stood guard until the spring, when the snow finally melted and he was reborn, a faery in the cherry tree.
Original
Faery of the Cherry Tree
Summary: His mother wanted the tree for her garden. Childishly, he thought he could bring it to her.
The little boy ran to the cherry blossom tree, crushing the flowers beneath his bare feet, determined to move it to his home.
The tree had overlooked his birth, having been planted by his long absent father who left to sea and never returned. It had watched the child, its delicate branches dancing in the wind during his birth and other festivities, voices of the faeries who lived within the leaves singing during the rainstorm, its sweet smell beckoning to the few children whom he had learned to call his friends. It witnessed his brother's accident, the bird's nest rooted within its branches having been the reason for the small boy to have been so high in the first place. Its presence was comforting, and so he, even more than his mother, wanted to move it closer to the house.
It seemed to scowl down at him with its bare branches and mean looking twigs twisting into the sky. It groaned against the wind, which pushed it towards their little two-room house even as he dug deep into the earth to find the end of the tree so that he could move it, his little hands clawing at the frozen dirt and snow.
In the days when the tree was happy, his mother would have stood at the door and beckoned him back inside from the cold. A roaring fire could have met him within the door. Instead, it was cold, the door hanging open to reveal the frightening picture of a pale woman, her body tucked under a blanket. In the cold the boy could see his breath. He could not see hers within the house.
The tree, its roots planted far too deeply into the ground, witnessed the end of the boy's life as he slumped against its trunk in comfort, and stood guard until the spring, when the snow finally melted and he was reborn, a faery in the cherry tree.