Story #123 - Willowed

Willowed

“Sit down.”

Ken sat. It wasn’t often that a talking tree told him what to do. In fact, it wasn’t ever.

“I-“

The tree cut him off, its great branches swaying above his head. “Don’t interrupt, skinling. I’ve been waiting here a long time, and I’m not going to let you ruin my first conversation with another being of moderate intelligence by blathering on while I’m trying to speak. Be still, and be silent.”

Ken was sure the tree was angry. Its leaves had dipped from a bright to a dark, silky green and its trunk seemed engorged, but more than that, its voice carried a crystal tone of irritation – apparently some things carried across even the plant/animal barrier.

He’d been walking alone in the woods – not something he did often, but enough that he knew how to keep himself safe – and of course he’d taken a tumble down a hill he’d been on top of dozens of times. As luck would have it nothing was broken or sprained when he hit the ground, but he found himself in a part of the low-lying forest he’d never seen.

When the whispers on the wind started up, he assumed it was as a result of a poor breakfast choice and a night of restless sleep, and hadn’t given it much thought. At first, he’d done his best to skirt the sounds he was hearing, in case they were real and might belong to a large animal or vicious woods dweller in the area. It wasn’t until the sounds started to take the form of words that he found his feet carrying him in their direction, and within minutes, he found himself at the foot of a proud willow, its trunk thick and deep.

“Greetings,” it had said, “you are the first to find me in many years.” Its voice sounded normal enough, albeit reedy, but Ken couldn’t find a mouth or other orifice to account for the sound.

Of course, it had taken some time before Ken could accept the fact that the thing might actually be speaking and that he was not instead having some sort of nightmare or induced coma. Once he was fairly certain he wasn’t going completely crazy, Ken started to ask questions.

The tree didn’t like that.

Its name had been the first such question he posed, and the willow dismissed him out of hand.

“You could not pronounce it, skinling, nor you should you try. For now, willow will suffice.”

He’d gotten hot under the collar at that point – the tree had called him, after all – and he asked why the thing had bothered.

“To listen.”

Now, he’d been told to sit down and decided obeying was easier than fighting the willow on the point, and he had to admit he was curious about what kind of story a talking tree would tell. Who wouldn’t be?

“You don’t recognize my kind.” It was a statement of fact, not a question, but Ken shook his head anyway, though he didn’t speak.

After a moment, the tree spoke again. “Well?”

“I recognize your type – willow tree, but no, I’ve never met a tree that could speak.”

“We all could, skinling! We all could. Once.” There was an anger there, deep and still raw, and Ken watched as the tree whipped its upper branches hard in a circle.

“What happened?” Ken hadn’t moved, and the tree’s branches dipped down dangerously toward him. It was not pleased at his speaking out of turn.

“You happened! You and your science! My kind once roamed the earth as you did – walking beside you, imparting our knowledge to you, but you restrained us, handcuffed us to a location, to a silence we never desired.” The tree thrashed violently now, and Ken stood up and moved several feet away.

“Why have you moved?”

“You are aggressive, willow, and I’m not going to let you hurt me just because you’re angry. If you think we’ve done something to harm you, fine, but I wasn’t the one to do it. I won’t die for it.”

The branches released suddenly, as if the energy of the tree had finally given out, and for a moment Ken was sure that the tree had reverted to its natural state – silent.

“I’m sorry,” said the willow, its voice drooping as its branches did the same, “I’ve been alone for a very long time.”

“That’s fine, but you need to show some respect to those who are willing to listen to your story. Now, please go on.” Ken felt a certain measure of boldness after the thing’s sudden apology; if he could just keep it talking, he might be able to learn something useful. He quickly pulled his phone from his pocket; no one would believe this without proof.

“We lived together once, my kind and yours. We walked in harmony, but you betrayed us. Each winter, we were forced to settle to ground to repair and renew, and your kind trapped us, removed our food source and allowed us to become permanently implanted in the ground, tied to the earth and alone.”

“Why would we be so cruel?”

“It is in your nature! You had more than enough food to spare, but were unwilling to share, unwilling to allow us a taste of what you had. You paid, of course, and we bore witness to the death and rebirth of your civilizations many times.”

“You mean –“

“Yes. We are not eternal, but we have been here for many years, watching your failures and your successes. Once, a seat of government stood near here. At other times this area has been used for war and for peace, and developed as housing for your kind. Still, I remain.”

Ken stepped closer; he felt a certain compulsion to assist the being; it was no surprise that humanity had used the tree and its kind for its own ends – perhaps there was something he could do to help, and if he became famous in the bargain, so much the better.

“Perhaps, together, we can –“ Ken cut off as he came under the arc of the trees branches and was swept up into its embrace. A mouth he had not seen, hidden under willowy leaves, opened wide to display rows of needle-sharp teeth.

“You can, I’m sure,” the thing growled as it fed his body down into the maw, joyfully crunching on its first real meal in decades, “I will finally be free of this place.”

Heaving itself out of the ground, the willow scratched its roots across the ground. It couldn’t go far, but it didn’t have to – a nearby road and its travelers would provide more than enough fodder.

They would pay.

- D