Welcome to this week’s installment of many micro stories, ranging in length from 100 words to 500 words.
With each story we hope to deliver a little whimsy into the lives of our readers.
THE TREE OF KNOWLEDGE
The boy leaped from the cart before the old man had reined in the horse, dashing up the hillock and climbing the Tree’s gnarled trunk in guileless pleasure. For the entire tedious ride from the village, he had badgered the old man about their destination, the purpose of the ride, the reason his parents had seemed so solemn when they said goodbye.
You’ll understand soon. Be patient.
The old man dismounted and trudged up the unnatural cone, standing sentinel over the fallow fields. Every year, it seemed, the Tree grew taller, the hill steeper, the climb more challenging.
The lad from the village was swinging on a branch. His life, though short, would be piquant enough for the Tree, full of first experiences, youthful adventures, and parental love.
The man glanced around the base of the Tree, studying the broad roots and their possessive grip on the earth, but the Tree was still quiescent. Pulling on his gloves, he turned away to wait for the Tree’s reaction.
The farmland stretched away to the horizon, rich and ready to yield another fine harvest. Soon, the plow teams would be out, and the planters. By carrying out his duty, he guaranteed prosperity, yet when he returned to the village, they would shun him. Too many Springs had he made this trek, too many times had he averted his eyes…
He’d been little older than this boy, starving, when he had stumbled upon the Tree. The crops had failed, and the famine had left the villagers starving, dying. In desperation, he’d fallen upon the Tree, tearing off the bark, choking it down to fill the emptiness inside him. The pain had been excruciating as the Tree took its toll, leaving him in a feverish dream. The Tree had spoken in him, cajoling the starving boy, promising prosperity for his people, and the covenant had been made.
A tug on his sleeve startled the old man. He looked down to find the boy gazing at him with a solemn expression.
“Aren’t you tired, good sir? Come, rest…” A small, strong hand gripped his wrist. The old man’s gloves protected him against the Tree’s influence, but the boy held him skin to skin above the protection of the glove.
“No…”
The lad pulled him along. “You’ve done well,” he soothed. “Now, your work is through.”
The old man could not resist the Tree. He sank to the ground at the broad roots, back against the broad trunk. It trembled behind him and opened, eager as a lover to accept him.
The boy’s eyes, large and solemn, held his. “Your life will enrich us, as have all the lives you’ve tendered. You have given us the knowledge, and we have given you the wealth of the earth. But you must rest now. Your duty passes to this youngling.”
The old man sagged into the yawning trunk of the Tree, into darkness. His knowledge, a lifetime of betrayal, mingled with the rich aroma of the blessed earth.
J. L. Royce is an author of science fiction, the macabre, and whatever else strikes him. He lives in the northern reaches of the American Midwest, exploring the wilderness without and within. His work appears in Alien Dimensions, Allegory, Cosmic Horror Monthly, Fifth Di, Fireside, Ghostlight, Love Letters to Poe (Visiter Award winner), Lovecraftiana, Mysterion, parABnormal, Sci Phi, Strange Aeon, Utopia, Wyldblood, etc. He is a member of WWA, HWA, and GLAHW. Some of his anthologized stories may be found at: www.jlroyce.com.
If you enjoyed this drabble you can find it and more in the Hawthorn & Ash 2023 anthology.
Iron Faerie Publishing 