The oak had stood for as long as any of us could remember. You could see her in pictures going back hundreds of years, and paintings that went even further. Some in the village even believed that she had been here since time began.
She stood in the centre of the valley, all alone, but among friends. Her long branches, bursting with leaves cast a shadow across the grass, and every night we would dance beneath her.
She would sooth us to sleep with the chorus of her leaves gently whistling as the wind whipped through her, and at night, we dreamed of things that were just as beautiful as our days beneath her.
We all ended up in the same place, beneath her branches, living peacefully in soft, spring dreams until it was time to wake up.
We gave her water and gold each summer solstice, and she would shower us with protection. We were undisturbed for many years, alone in our paradise, but among friends.
We thought that it would last forever. After all, our oak had lasted forever, so why couldn’t paradise? It could never last. The Earth is infested with greed and carelessness, and so, one day, her ending began.
People wanted to see her, awestruck by her beauty, and so the intrusions began.
Most of us hid away from the crowds of tourists, but a few would make themselves known, so that they could ensure the oak’s safety. The crowds would come and go, taking pictures and marvelling at her majesty, and she remained, towering and tremendous.
After a while, they wanted more than pictures and videos. They began to climb her, snapping off branches and twigs, clawing at her bark and breaking all of our hearts.
We came out of hiding, shooing them away and trying our best to keep her safe, but soon, the selfish hordes overpowered us, and all that we could do was watch in horror as they came and went.
It wasn’t just the oak that they wanted. They had begun to notice us. They had questions, and curiosity. They began to ask why the children weren’t in school, how we fed and cared for ourselves, how long we had been in the valley.
I had been there as long as I could remember, and probably longer than that, but it was not their business.
It just wouldn’t do, and so, we began to build the wall.
It didn’t take us long. It sprung to life overnight, towering tall above the village and our beloved oak. She was safe, smiling down upon us and all was well.
We began refusing visitors. They’d crowd at the wall, some amazed at how quickly we had built, and some frustrated that we denied them an audience with the oak. They kept coming, but we stood firm, and soon, the crowds began to disperse.
We thought that she would be safe. It was a silly, naive thought. This Earth is not a safe place, and beautiful things do not stay that way for long here. It felt like forever, but eventually, she had to change.
It began with the boy. The bastard, horrible boy. He scaled the wall as we slept inside of our sweet, summer wonderland. The gold glittered beneath her branches and shined, just like the axe he swung into her trunk.
The sky seemed to fall. We all saw her death, with our eyes closed. The valley was red. Rage. Pain. Regret. We awoke in a fit of despair, and within moments, the boy was in our clutches.
He had no reason, his face bland with boredom, broken with his own axe as the night became day.
We sat where her shadow used to fall, surrounded by his butchered body, sobbing as the sun rose. His blood spilled and sunk into the grass, and as the sun sank back behind the hills once more, a miracle occurred.
She began to grow again. Her body, reborn as rain rattled across the sky. Her branches shot from her stump and she snatched the boy’s parts from our trembling arms, dragging him down into the soft mud and swelling above the ground as she dined on the boy.
She was safe once more. All was well. We had lost her and found her, so quickly that our heads spun.
We thought it would be okay. We prayed that things would return to normal.
There has never been such a thing as normal, and I think that I am ready to accept this.
She spoke to us in our dreams. We all ended up in the same place, beneath her branches, her bellowing, carried high by the wind.
“Bring me more!”
We shook our heads as a storm swept by. The sky was dark, and the moon, marked by crimson.
“Bring me more!”
Her branches shot towards us, shaking our shocked shoulders and piercing our skin. The grass was still, soaked in blood as she called out to us again, with the same dreadful demand.
“Bring me more!”
The dreams would not stop. Every night, the children were aflame with a fever that would never break. The valley exploded with screams, and the message was clear.
The children wouldn’t sleep. They wouldn’t stay in their beds. They would fall to the grass beneath her and weep, from dusk ‘til dawn.
Her branches snaked closer to the crowd of crying children, and thunder would crash across the valley as their parents snatched them away and pleaded with them to go back to bed.
Our crops withered and died. The river became clogged with brown, dead leaves. It rained, and it rained, with lightning living above us for weeks at a time.
We knew what we had to do but we couldn’t conceive of it.
She was our sunlight.
She was our greatest love.
She hungered for the flesh of our younglings.
We thought it would end with the boy, but she had developed a taste, and we had no choice but to obey.
The crying would not end. We drew straws, at first, watching each other plead for our children’s lives, but soon, she grew impatient, and there was no more time to plead.
There are none left, and there are still four months until the first new baby is born.
The child will be my cousin, and it will be consumed.
I know how it must be. I know how it has been, and yet… still, I believe that I can change the child’s fate.
She has refused the flesh of our elders, and so, with her leaves in my hair and her orders in my mind, I have no choice but to climb the wall and hunt for something that will satisfy her.
My hands will be heavy with blood, but I cannot deny her.
Sincerely, Jennifer x 