The Scrawls

A laboratory of invention, a home for stream of consciousness scribbles, passages of undetermined length, and discombobulated story fragments.

Updated Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.

The Tree

Date Unknown Part of: Fragments

I looked at the tree that grew in the centre of town. I did not know its species. I did not know how deep its roots ran. Its bark was thick, its leaves were long and thin.

I did not know its age, or who planted the seed from which it grew, or when it began to tower over the homes of the village that now lied abandoned.

I wondered how many generations the tree had seen pass. I wondered if it would ever see another. I wondered if it cared, in its own way. The way it cares about sunlight and warmth, and water and air.

I wondered if anyone else would ever lay their eyes on it again, or feel it against the palm of their hand, or stand underneath its shadow.

I cast my thoughts aside. It was time to go. We were the last of the refugees heading inland. Should we survive, perhaps I will return, and see if the tree survived where we could not.