(no subject)
in the courtyard just outside his window was a beautiful chestnut tree. it was surrounded by small sweet smelling plants whos names he hadn't the slightest idea of how to go about pronouncing, and sweet smelling, slightly over powering flowers, that seemed almost unreasonably colorful. hidden beneath the shade of the tree was a perfectly obtuse coy pond, inhabited by delightful lily pads, a multitude of different colored fish, shy yet mildly entertaining turtles with red streaks running from there eyes and down there necks disappearing under there shells, and an old duck that could not fly. the duck had been shot in the left wing shattering the bone beyond repair rendering it lame until the day it died, he had been hit on a hunting trip, but the owner of the house couldn't bear to see the creature suffer, nor could he stomach the thought of killing it with his hands, so he brought it home. yet always present above all this was that tree.it had been there always. it had haunted owen since his childhood. its smooth untouched bark seemed to change in front of your eyes, while seeming to remain unchanged since the dawn of time. the trees varicose branches' intertwined, creaked, and screamed in the wind, always piercing owens ears as if beckoning. owen would shutter every time he fell into the sights of that tree, as he tried to ignore that one branch that always seemed to point at him accusingly. that tree never seemed to change, years ago when the southern wing of the house had burned asunder, flames leaping out of the window lapping the limbs of said chestnut, not a single leaf singed, nor seemed to ever fall off. in the after math of the fire there were only ruble, the smoldering remains of owens' grandmothers azaleas, and that cold unyielding tree, untouched. now in that night as owen lies in on his back head flopping limply toward the window on his death bed, he realized what about the tree had always troubled him. starring into the faces that appeared in its leaves, owen knew he hated that tree, because, it was greater then he could have ever hoped to have been. it had survived him, would surpass anything he could have ever done. as it now loomed over that courtyard, it had always over shadowed his life, taunting him with his own insignificance. at that moment owen felt more hatred and resentment then he had ever known. he wished only to uproot those unnamed flowers and break the neck of that fat duck, to make one last impression on the face of this world. all this passed through his mind as his body slipped away. he died as he lived, under the shadow of that tree.