Black Tree {Irony}
***note***: Story does not start from beginning, other events have happened *****
Kara walked along side her father, not knowing what to say. They had been traveling since morning and already she had heard two stories about these somber woods. Both were as tall a tale as the tooth fairy, but for some reason it seemed her father believed them. That caused her to remain silent, and trying to figure out why he would believe such stories.
He had always been the realist, or at least gave a blunt answer to her questions. He never held back to save some one's feelings nor did he ever lie. Why, then, did he look so convinced that his stories about these woods possessed truth?
"Kara," he said taking her by the shoulders and positioning her to look in his direction, "what do you see?"
She blinked for a few moments, letting her eyes settle against the sun's light as it pierced through a tree with no leaves. "It looks like a tree, is it...is it all black?" She peered harder, and stepped a bit closer.
"Aye lassie," he said, "it's the Black Tree."
"I suppose this one has a story too?"
"Aye. But unlike the others, this one has a sad endin'."
"Well then you don't have to tell it Da, I understand. In fact, I don't want to hear a sad story."
"But you're gonna have to. This is a very important story."
"Really? Da you've told me two stories already. Do I really have to hear yet another one?"
"Get closer to it," he commanded walking with bigger steps, "and you'll want me to tell ya."
Obeying her father, Kara trudged through the ground's leaves hoping they would slow her down. She enjoyed listening to her father's way of telling stories, but how could she bare to think that her father believed these stories? He never believed in anything, not church, not government, sometimes not even in her, so how did he have such passion for these stories?
As she reached the Black Tree on the little hill in front of her, she forgot that thought when she saw faces in the trunk of the tree. Staring at them, she realized that the tree had a thicker frame than she expected. She also noted that the faces seemed to have tried to press themselves against the trunk from the inside. Once close enough to touch, she saw that the faces had such detail. So much so she could tell that four of them were children and one was an adult man. Every one of them looked as if they had been screaming.
Walking slowly around the tree, she looked up to see a noose, worn and weathered, hanging from one of the higher branches. Kara gaped at her father, as if wondering how such a tree came into existence.
"Bet ya want me to tell the story now?"
"Aye," she said.
Of all the landmarks he had shown her in these woods, this tree defiantly screamed creepy. A trench and a white well, though the well did give her a chill, seemed fairytale compared to this one.
"Come here," he said quietly, "you don't want to get too close when I tell ya about it all."
She nodded and sat beside her father on a large boulder at the bottom of the hill. He cleared his throat and rested his eyes on the tree. She followed his gaze and nearly shuttered when he spoke with a more sultry husk to his voice than before.
"Once there was a man and a woman who'd always been neighbors in these woods. She lived a little ways on that side of the bank there, and he lived right here where we're sitting. Both would come to this tree every day to pick its fruit-"
"What kind of fruit?" Kara had a hard time imagining this tree bared fruit.
"No one knows really, no one could tell. But anyways, they would talk everyday and both enjoyed each other's company. Eventually they realized that they were in love. They had the tree to thank for that, for it was when its flowers blossomed that the man saw her beauty, and it was when the tree ripened that she saw how gentle he was. She was a red haired beauty, much like yourself lassie, and he a darker colorin' to him. Needless to say they were handsome people, and their families very much agreed to their union."
"They exchanged their vows under that tree and even consummated their union under its branches. Naturally she moved into his house, well a modest cottage really. He was only a lumberjack, lowly as they come back in those days. But she loved him nonetheless. Like a true wife she didn't care about how much money he did or didn't make. For her it was bliss just being with him."
"Two years after their marriage they had their first son. Then two daughters, and after them the last son. The family all seemed very happy on the outside. Every Mass, every festival, every cousin's wedding they put on heirs of joy. But raising a family with four children was hard. The man could not afford to feed his family, especially since the woman became pregnant with the fifth child. The mother constantly heard the squeals of her children's hunger and couldn't bare to hear them like that any longer. She found the answers to her prayers in a very ****ty way if you ask me. The only thing that could save her children from starvation, was to fall in love with another man. This man, the Lord of the sector, had been flirting and making conspicuous glances towards her every morning in the first sessions of Mass. Her husband never noticed, but she did."
"Now the woman still loved her husband, despite their arguing and their lack of money. But she loved her children more. The night this tree turned black was the night she told him that she was leaving him, and taking his babies. Like her, he loved his children more than he loved her, and so, as they fought, he struck her and took the children. The woman was out for only a few minutes, but managed to see her husband step into the tree's cavern-like trunk. Now she didn't know he had her children. They had been in bed when they argued, so naturally she thought them to still be tucked safely away in their cots. She took a torch, being so enraged at her husband, and threw it at the foot of the tree where the roots bulged from the ground. And-"
"Wait," Kara interrupted again, "if it was fire that char-coled the tree, then how are the faces showing through the trunk?"
"I was getting to that. Since the tree had always been so vibrant and full of life, it carried a lot of water, more so than any tree could. It softened the bark and made the tree more flexible. Like rubber almost, but more able to bend. So when the tree burned its opening at the trunk melted shut and kept the victims in its hold. When the woman heard the terrible cries of her husband and children, she ran up to the tree. Seeing the imprints of her children's faces in the tree, she tried to put out the flames. But the flames, by this point, were too high and when she managed to disperse them her family were already encased in the tree's blackened casket. By morning the woman had found a rope, climbed high (the branches were still hard surprisingly), tied the rope around her neck, and dropped off letting the branch choke her till she saw black."
"Wow, that's some story. Now what really happened?"
"What?" Her father furrowed his brows, "That was the story."
"Da come on, that's not scientifically possible. A tree that could do all that. Da do you really believe this?"
"I sure as hell do."
"Why?"
"Me own Da told me these stories. And his Da told him, and so on and so forth. Ya know we Callaways have always had some share of this land, we know, no, we are the stories lass."
"But how do you know they're true? You don't even believe in the Holy Mother, much less God."
"My bairn you will see. Now as for the story, what'd you think."
"You're right it was sad."
"Aye...," he pursed his lips and smiled, "funny that she fell in love with him and not cared about money. Then had children, and eventually it was money, or rather the lack o' money, that killed them."
"It's also interesting that they met, wedded, and even made love under that tree. Then it became their grave stone."
"Aye, that's true. Strange how life is, always turning to ways we didn't expect."
"Is this another college lecture?"
"Well you are going to England lass, it'll be the first time you've been away from your mum and me."
"Yeah Da I know," she rolled her eyes.
"Just realize that not everything goes to your plan. And you can't hate it for not happening. Embrace the plot twists of your life, or else you'll be miserable. And know that tragedy, no matter if you believe in reaping what you sow, or karma or whatever fates are in your favor, will find you."
"Alright," she sighed, "fine. Can we continue? We have to make camp eventually."
"Aye, aye, that we do," he rose pulling up his trousers in the process, "I'll lead."
Following her father, Kara lingered at the tree for a few moments. When her father had finished the story, she had believed some artist had crafted the faces and that the rope was there for some political effect. But she stood there, so close to it that she could smell the ashes as she picked her finger nails along the trunk. The faces came to life in her mind, and when she touched them she swore she had heard each pitch of their screams.
"Kara don't doddle," her father called from afar.
She raced away from the tree, hoping, praying, she wouldn't see or feel those faces in her dreams tonight.
Great job!
