When the Council declared the old
tree was dangerous, the town mourned. Generations had swung from its branches
and eaten picnics in its shade.
By popular vote, Hal was selected to
carve the remaining trunk, and Running Bear supervised progress from his
folding chair.
“Be careful what spirits you awaken,
boy – trees have long memories.”
Hal laughed, but when he surveyed his
work that evening, shapes had appeared that he didn’t recognize. Shivering, he hurried home.
In the morning there was a track in the grass, as if many feet had danced
around the tree all night.
............................................................................................................
I had to resist the temptation to write a story about my elder son, who is in the process of carving the trunk of a tree which was felled beside his house. We also have a tree-carving artist who has made woodland creatures to delight the children - and adults - out of felled trees around our village. So much better than reducing a grand old tree to firewood and wood-pulp.
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers and to J S Brand for this week's photograph.
