She calls him deeper, the boy with dark black curls-to play in the woods, to be lost in her branches. He hears the call. Tender feet crunch leaves and twigs, young fingers touch coarse bark and he peers deeply.
The mountain calls him higher, the man with dark curls masked by grey. His weary eyes peer down at old parchment, the waters call to him. They said he’d never find it - now he must, else she dies.
Leaves shake from hands peeling bark from her branch. Reluctantly it flakes away. Her pure, smooth bark shines; his breath quickens, heart pounds, twigs crack at slow, retreating footsteps
The map cannot be read for the shaking of weathered hands, as hers so often do. Needles lay unused on the table. Her face weathered, body weary, her wrinkled, gentle face protects what is within, but he cannot see it.
Her brilliance lures the boy. Tender fingers both tear and caress. She pleads with him, the layers protect what is precious within, but he cannot hear it.
The crest of the mountain disappears, mist flows down the crevices and valleys, down to the lake. It’s surface smooth with reflections of barkless trees. The man steps into the water, lowers his hand cautiously and rejoices.
She had pleaded with him not to go but he could not hear her
So fixed he was upon her face.
He rips the bark away, strips her. Poping and cracking, insects that once took refuge must flee, the wood is too hard to provide a home. She pleads with him to stop, but he cannot hear.
The man stumbles through the door and offers her the water. Poping and cracking echoes through the house, wrinkles taking refuge within her flee; her face pulled taut, the skin flat across her face.
The bark is completely stripped away, he steps back and sees the smooth wood beneath.
The wood creaks from slow, withdrawing footsteps. Weariness has gone, youth returned. She lowers her eyes, ashamed, exposed as her wisdom turns brown and flutters down. Her eyes harden, as years flee, gentle touch and knowing caress leave her now supple hands. The tremble of her voice vanquished and her youth shines forth.
The tree shakes as wind blows against it the boy is gone and she is
Dead.
[Photo Credit: mandragolaa at http://fc02.deviantart.net/fs12/f/2006/327/5/1/tree_by_mandragolaa.jpg]
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