- a challenge - 52 short stories in 52 weeks...something must be worth reading, right? |
Rose struggled up the slope, her knees no longer as strong as they once were. Ahead of her, Annabel—her great-granddaughter—skipped lightly over the jagged rocks, singing traditional songs that rang through the blossoming dawn. “We’re here, Ma! Wow… it really is as gigantic as you said.” Gigantic hardly did it justice. When Rose finally reached the top, the two stood together in awe before one of God’s greatest creations. Legend said the seeds of the sacred tree had been gifted to their ancestors by the Great Spirits as a reward for tending the earth. With a trunk wide enough for forty people to encircle, and branches that twisted into an intricate maze of amber, sepia, and olive leaves—leaves that never fell, no matter the season—the tree had stood as the heart of their land for centuries. “What’s that say, Ma?” Annabel asked, pointing at the sign. “F-F-For S-S-Sale? For Sale?” It means, Rose thought bitterly, that the settlers still haven’t learned. Her weathered hands tightened on the steel cage the newcomers had built around the tree. Nearby, silent excavators waited—machines that stirred memories of the younger woman she once was, standing on this same slope, defending her people’s legacy. She reached into her jacket, pulled out a piece of charcoal, and wrote a single word across the sign. “Come along, Anna, my dear,” she said once she was finished. “Don’t worry. It’s not for sale—and it never will be.” Below them, Rose could see the new generation climbing the slope, ready to take their place in the fight to protect the sacred tree. Soon it would be Annabel’s turn, because tradition—and a duty to Mother Earth—meant more than the creation of yet another concrete utopia. --------------- Word Count: 293 Prompt: Write a story that includes the line: “It’s not for sale.” Written For: "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge" |