Friday 19 October 2012

story of a wooden stone



I used to be a tree. This may seem slightly unbelievable considering today I am just a small stone but if you plan on reading a story that a small stone that used to be a tree may have written, you might as well try believing it... it’s always fun believing stories. In my life as a tree I used to live on a hill, surrounded by nothing but blue and green, for blue was the sky and green was the grass, except for the parts on which I laid my shade, which were the only dark-green places on that hill. I often thought about myself as being something like a living picture, motionless yet not emotionless, how humans usually think about trees. It may sound to you like I was a very lonely tree and so I was, except for the fact that I didn’t knew it. It was only one morning that I started to feel something changing. A little green spot appeared not far from me but as days went by, it began to grow bigger and bigger until it seemed like the sun was not so bright anymore, for I was now standing in the shade of a new tree. We quickly became inseparable and not because we were both trees and couldn’t actually get away from each other but it felt like our roots were always happily drinking together from the same water, like humans sharing a drink in some lonely bar. Good times we spent like that and seasons changed until one day I found my friend all dressed in white. It was snowing and he was waving his branches at me as if saying goodbye. I never understood why. That was the last day I saw Christmas tree, for that was the name of my friend. I was as miserable as a tree can be and that made me split in a thousand small wooden stones which each bare the image of my friend. All of them rolled down the hill and so did I, the little stone I am today. The person who found me told me that humans also keep pictures of their beloved ones with them and that I was the only stone he had ever heard of doing such a thing. Therefore, he promised to share my story with others who may believe it as he did so here it is now, the story of a tree that once lost a friend but did not lose the memory of him.
I would smile if I were him, the small wooden stone.
Thank you, Aurora Dan!
This wooden stone is not drawn


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