Part of the Forest

"Were they cute?"

"Han-nah!" I rolled my eyes at my older sister. But she was just being herself, that is, boy-crazy, takes-two hours-to-get-ready-the-morning, spaz Hannah. I had just gotten back from a school field trip to a Civil War re-enactment and briefly mentioned that there were some soldiers.

"Were they?" She persisted in all her fifteen-year-old stubbornness. She tossed her hair seven different times, primping herself in the mirror. I, Macey Beebee, had written a vow stating I would never turn out like her.

"No." I laughed. "Seriously. One was fat and one had severe acne."

Hannah laughed too, I think at herself mostly.

"Next time come along and you can soldier gawk yourself," I muttered, lifting my tired eleven-year-old frame off the squishy couch.

Hannah perked up. "Do you wanna go to the forest?" See, we lived by this forest back then and my sister and I explored it via an abandoned path.

"Sure," I pretended to grumble.

Five minutes later I arrived in the garage bundled up and prepared for the bitter early-winter wind outside.

"My school is so into recycling and saving the trees," Hannah complained as we walked through our own very lovely, old trees. "Save the trees, recycle, go green. It's so stupid."

"Oh," I said. What else was a little sister to say?

"I mean, you could kick them and they wouldn't care," she snapped her leg back and spun around looking for a tree to prove her point on. Her victim was an oak.

And then - you might not believe me, you don't have to if you don't want to - the tree shuddered, and then ripped its roots out of the ground.

"AH! A talking tree!" Hannah screeched.

"It hasn't even talked yet," I snapped, even though I was terrified too.

"You needed something?" he asked. He sounded almost... energetic.

Hanna froze and stared up at him. I was surprised at his voice. I expected trees to be old-sounding, cranky, and to talk verrrrrrry slowly.

"Sorry," I squeaked, starting to back away, and taking Hannah with me. I felt really warm inside, and the wind seemed to stop blowing. It wasn't a red-hot warmth, like when I'm embarrassed. The stillness wasn't deathly, like a monster was behind the bushes waiting to attack us. It was a warm, sleepy feeling. If it was colored it would have been a green or even dark blue. If it was a material it would have been velvet, but on top of pine wood: firm but soft.

Hannah was frozen to the ground, not able to speak at all.

He rustled his leaves and for a moment I thought he was going to attack us.

"Happens all the time," he remarked. Wow. Trees even had a sense of humor?

"It... does?" I stammered awkwardly. He didn't reply for a while and during that time I wondered if I was going crazy.

"Yes," he answered finally. I waited, but he didn't continue.

"Sorry," I repeated.

"Just don't do it again." I could've sworn he winked, if trees could wink, that is.

"You're real?" I couldn't help but gawk.

That made him laugh. "Yes, I'm real." He waved a few of his branches to make his point. I nervously reached a hand out and touched his bark, because in my dreams, usually they vanished when I touched them. He was still there, and the bark was rough and cool under my fingers.

"I..." I had so many questions, yet I couldn't put them into actual English words. "I wish I could talk to you for longer," I finally confessed, knowing that my parents would be waiting for us.

"No need," he told me.

"Whuh?" Now I was confused.

"Think of that, and think of me."

"Wait--"

But his branches went rigid again, and the warmth inside of me felt like it was punched out. I shivered and looked at my sister.

"Did you see that?" she murmured, her eyes wide.

I smiled at her and nodded.

The rest of my life you might not find as interesting. My parents didn't believe me. My sister laughed it off and said I dreamt it. I never even got his name.

Next morning, I got up and ran back to the forest. "Hello?" I called softly, looking up the the top of a maple. Nothing even swayed in the wind. I touched the oak, and the pulsing warmth I had felt the day before spilled into me.

"You're not going to... talk?"

Apparently not. I leaned against the maple and held my ear to the trunk. There was silence, then the humming of sap running through the tree. I fell silent. Not my mouth, but my mind. Thoughts that weren't mine sprung up. Thoughts of winter, summer again, rains, droughts.

Tree thoughts.

I widened my eyes, and immediately the trees stopped dripping their thoughts into my mind. Relax.

This is how I always wanted to feel. This is what I longed for when I plastered myself against the window, trying to get away. Away from my sister, away from my parents.

You made it back. I looked at the oak and smiled at him. "I did," I whispered back.


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862 words.