TREE DANCE - a story in 100 words

TREE  DANCE

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.

TREE - a poem for Friday Fictioneers

TREE

A tree is always there –

immovable,

a living solid friend –

backrest to the solitary reader,

a shelter from sudden rain,

the hollows of its roots

a bed for summer lovers –

perhaps a hundred years

of memories.

You don’t expect

to wake one morning

and find its height

reduced to length,

the secret places

in its roots

indecently exposed,

and the unreachable boughs

sad and defeated

under your caressing hand.

When a tree falls

your whole world rocks

and the child in you

trembles.

It’s like coming downstairs

in the dark night

seeking comfort,

and hearing your father cry.

.......................................................................

On seeing Sandra Crook's photograph of a weeping tree, I immediately thought of this poem which I wrote thirty years ago in 1987, the year a hurricane tore down far too many beautiful trees across the south of England. As we have just had another big storm, it seems appropriate to post it here. And it has the requisite number of words!

You can see other 100 word stories via https://rochellewisoff.com/

BOXES

Here we go again with Friday Fictioneers - an online group who write 100-word stories each week prompted by a photo on Rochelle's blog site.

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com

Do check out the other stories by following this link

http://new.inlinkz.com/luwpview.php?id=356142

. . .   and this is my story.

BOXES

Billy and his mum never went out. All their food was delivered - the empty cardboard boxes were Billy’s favourite toys.

One day Billy’s mum went to sleep and wouldn’t wake up.

Billy and Gizmo shared a box of cereal with orange juice because Billy couldn’t open the milk. Gizmo was sick in the garden, then ran up the tree and escaped over the box-like fence.

Billy was alone. His mum was still asleep and the television was scary so he turned it off. Then it was too quiet.

When the delivery man looked through the letterbox he called the police.

TELL ME A STORY, PA

  “TELL ME A STORY” 

I remember asking my father that. I wish I could also remember the stories he made up for me and my brother, but they are lost in the mists of  TIME. One legacy I do have though - he passed on to me his vivid imagination.

Here he is - my PA x

Perhaps earliest man sat in his cave telling stories and the cave paintings we see are simply illustrations? I wonder if they finished their TALES by saying, “THE END”?

At the start of Part 3 of Helter-Skelter I tell the story of Albie at TRAINING CAMP, learning to drive an Army TRUCK, and of what happens when his old enemy from his schooldays TURNS UP in the same regiment.
 Strange as it may seems, records are reticent about the kinds of shennanigans soldiers in training indulged in, but with some input from the OH about his National Service my imagination has had free rein.

  

TEIDE is the TALLEST mountain in the Canary Islands and the Spanish Peninsula. It measures 3718 metres which is over two miles. I know at least two people who joined the “Mile High Club” without leaving the ground, though where they found the energy is a mystery, because the air is very thin.
It can also be very cold – I have been up there in the snow – but there are barbecue areas where local people go all year round. 

You can take a cable car to the top when it’s not too windy, and if you get a permit in advance you can climb the final 200 metres to breathe the sulphurous fumes. Mount Teide might be dormant but it’s not dead.

TREES – The jacarandas flowered in our village last week just in TIME for your photographic TREAT of the day.

THE END OF THE WORLD....

.... isn't just nigh - it's here!
December 21st 2012 - 21.12.12 if you're English, 12.21.12 if you're American. Maybe there was something signinifant in those numbers to the Mayans.
Of course, it is also possible that the 'experts' read the hieroglyphs wrong.
It's a great design though, and has been copied over and over in different forms, from jewellery to stargates, so the Mayans aren't forgotten.

On a cheerier note, and assuming we make it through today, here are two photos io my home-made Christmas tree as an online Christmas card to everyone.

 It's made from two wire coathangers, green garlands, baubles and a string of lights.
The first lot of lights died after a week so I had to unwind them and buy more. When I got them out of the box I discovered they aren't Chinese, they're Russian, and its took a firm hand to make the damn things plug into the extension lead. Still, they're flashing prettily now, and my tree hangs tidily out of the way on the wall.

 I would like to thank my fifty followers for finding my blog interesting enough to add their names, and a special thank you to those of you who leave comments. It is always lovely to get feedback - it reminds me I am not whistling in the dark!

.HAPPY CHRISTMAS!

CANADIAN AUTUMN

Except in Canada they call it “fall”. While we in Tenerife are enjoying a spring-like autumn, in Canada their autumn was last month, and I was there to see it. 

My first visit to see where my son has settled with his Canadian wife coincided with the explosion of colour that is a Canadian fall. 

Everywhere I looked was worthy of a painting and I took a load of photographs which I have sorted into separate albums. 

Today's offering is simply entitled "Trees" - I hope you like them.

And finally - a design of leaves.