Owl Oak

Chapter 1

Owl Oak was a tree that stood big and strong, and Alexander could have sworn that it had not aged a day since he was a child. He had witnessed death and trauma; love and loss; he had watched all fall around him like acorns; however, the tree remained unchanged. It was the last tree in London.

The tree had a thick base and its bark ascended with twists and turns, like hieroglyphics, or ancient graffiti. The bark continued to paint a path upwards until turning at a right angle five feet above the ground, where one path continued upwards and another branch took a different path, as strong as the rest. There were small engravings on this branch as it was a good height for children to mark it with names, or drawings, or lovers’ initials. Alexander once marked it with the letters ‘A+C’.

This was the branch that he would climb as a child. 20 years ago, there were more trees surrounding it, but this was his and his father’s favourite. It was now the only one still standing. He would climb this branch with the help of his father and walk it like a tightrope, often intentionally falling to feel his embrace. Alexander was shocked to realise that this safety net was not immortal.

Back then, there were countless trees – in chaotic rows – that were so beautifully imperfect. Squirrels would jump from branch to branch, from tree to tree; birds would be born, build nests of their own, raise their young, and die in that same tree; foxes, or rabbits, or whatever one could imagine, would burrow beneath the roots and build a home, eternally hidden from humans; Alexander once saw an owl.

Alexander swears to have seen this owl. People visited from neighbouring towns to catch a glimpse, and photographers would camp in an attempt to spot it, but it was never photographed, and few ever saw it. It was said that anybody that witnessed the graceful power of the owl would have a permanent connection to the tree and a true understanding of the importance of nature. Alexander agreed.

If only more people had seen the owl, Alexander thought.

Some had claimed to hear the owl, or see it flying through the streets, but it was obvious who had really been enlightened when plans were announced to cut down Owl Oak – the final tree in London. Alexander expected riots in the streets, or people chaining themselves to Owl Oak, but he seemed to be the only one affected – him and the few other spotters. Frauds dropped off when they did not arrive to protests, or ran at the threat of arrest, but Alexander remained strong – strong for the connection he had with Owl Oak.

Alexander knew that this could be his final visit to Owl Oak. In the cold darkness of November, he did not weep, or have any overwhelming urge to hold tree. Instead, he ran his fingers across the bark like a boat in a storm, rising and falling with the waves. His fingers dipped in his engravings, and he scratched them a little deeper. He kissed the bark.

Thank you for enlightening me, he whispered.

He looked up to the top branch where he once spotted the barn owl's white face and dark eyes, but it was empty.

Chapter 2

It was a long walk to the pub, and Alexander was feeling sentimental. The tree was now surrounded by terraced houses, making it look out of place.

What has happened to the world, Alexander thought. I remember when there were trees as far as the eye could see – trees that were healthy, and inoffensive.

Another difference from Alexander’s childhood was the mechanical murmur of machinery, a constant background noise. The machine replicated the photosynthetic qualities of the plants that once stood there, making real trees worthless. The government once thought that it would be a good idea to make the sound replicate the buzzing of bees, but this made people remember, and think. They did not want people to think. They wanted people to comply and forget how the world once was – how the world should be. They quickly changed this noise back to the quiet murmur. After years of hearing the sound, it became white noise.

Alexander walked with his left arm out beside him, scratching the stone walls that replaced the other trees. It hurt and occasionally made his hands bleed, but he was numb, and only noticed it when he looked back and saw a thin trail of blood across the wall. He continued past cafes and shops that were shutting for the evening, and pedestrians that hung their heads mournfully at him. They refused eye contact, likely ashamed of their lack of action.

They will not say goodbye. They do not deserve to say goodbye, Alexander thought. If they try to say goodbye, I will chase them away, or pull them from the bark. Why should they say goodbye when they turned a blind eye when it needed them the most? Don’t you dare say goodbye. What if they see the owl? They don’t deserve to see the owl.

‘Walk away!’ Alexander shouted as the pedestrians slowed at Owl Oak. They jogged away.

He continued past houses, and more houses, and more houses – all identical, all unfeeling. The murmur continued as loud as ever, and Alexander arrived at the pub before it could truly destroy him. The pub was squeezed between terraced houses, and opposite more houses, but stood out, with its brickwork being different. It was not built with large, grey bricks like that around it. Instead, petite, orange bricks seemed to have been thrown at it in such a random order that one could not confidently predict what would come next. It had a thatched roof that came down at a subtle gradient, soon blending into the brickwork, seamlessly. There were windows dotted around, and the stained glass slightly obscured the view of the inside. A green door filled with similar stained glass was almost in the centre of the wall. The buildings around it, and opposite it, and behind it, were all rectangular, with flat roofs and symmetrical windows. They looked dirty. Alexander walked into the pub, sounding the bell that hung above the door.

‘Welcome back to the Owl Oak Inn. How are you, Alexander?’ said the bartender. All heads in the bar turned to see him.

Chapter 3

The floor was a light varnished oak and the tables and chairs were slightly darker. The bar was now silent, and Alexander walked through the path of tables – filled with faces of disgust, or sympathy, or fear – towards a long, rectangular table at the end of the room.

‘Whisky,’ Alexander said as he passed the bar, and there were soon two glasses in front of him. The bartender could see how much he needed it. Alexander slid one of the glasses towards the bartender and held his own in the air. ‘Cheers,’ he said, and drank it all. He stood from the stool that he could not remember sitting in and continued towards the table at the end of the room. The room was no longer in silence, with a monotonous chatter beginning to fill it. The table at the end was still in silence.

On the table were three people: Farris – a boy in his early twenties – was sat at the head of the table. He had short black hair and wore round glasses. He was looking at his glass of whisky with the same longing as Alexander had, swilling it in circles in his hand. There was a bottle of it next to him, now half empty. To Farris’ right was Winston, an overweight, unhealthy-looking man. He was in his early fifties and his hair was slicked back with too much product, revealing his poor hairline. He didn’t always look like this, Alexander thought.

Farris and Winston both had something in common with Alexander – they had also seen the owl. At first it filled their lives with optimism, but this soon deteriorated into a haunting as fewer and fewer believed – as fewer and fewer trees survived. Winston had been through the most as he had seen the owl before the others. He knew London at a purer time, a time in which trees outnumbered houses, and even people. He swears that he saw even more owls – different owls, of different trees. Years of drinking and deforestation made him a shell of what he once was. His partner to his right, Nina, met him in the euphoria of his first spotting. She was unlucky – or lucky – in not seeing the owl, but loved Winston therefore trusted him. Her devotion to the tree and to nature was as pure as any spotter. Nina and Winston drank red wine, Nina drinking one glass for every three of Winston’s.

Farris stood upon the arrival of Alexander and allowed him to sit at the head of the table, moving to the seat on his left. Before doing so, he held his hand out and shook Alexander’s firmly.

‘Brother,’ Farris said, taking his seat and pouring whisky into an empty glass for Alexander.

Alexander shook hands with both Winston and Nina before sitting. Winston’s hands were wet with sweat and quivered as they approached Alexander’s.

‘Your father would be so proud.’ Winston said.

‘Thank you, Winston.’

‘I’ve lost count of the number of nights he spent in jail for that tree. Some say he’s the only reason it’s still standing today.’ Winston held his glass in the air, soon realising it was empty so switching it for the bottle. ‘To your father, and everything he did for Owl Oak. To Owl Oak. No, to your father and Owl… Owl Oak.’ He was slurring his words, so all drank to his toast in order to stop him from talking. It upset Alexander to see what Winston had become. Farris still had more to say.

‘I never met your old man, but I strive to be like him every day. He was a legend. You and him are the only people I know that are willing to give everything for that tree. Saying that, if I’d seen that bloody owl earlier, I’m sure I would’ve already died for it. What happened last night then, Alex?’ Farris noticed Alexander’s empty glass so topped it back up with whisky.

‘I heard that they were measuring Owl Oak to cut it down, so found where they were going to be and slashed their tires. That didn’t work, of course, so they arrived in their other vehicle, cautiously, knowing that a spotter was nearby. It was dark, but I had spent countless nights at Owl Oak, so I knew the tree and its surroundings better than anybody. They arrived from the left and I approached from the right. There were only two of them, and they tried to do it quickly. They checked over their shoulder every few seconds as if they were expecting me. They rested the ladder on the right side – you know, resting on the big arm that sticks out at a right angle – and began to climb. I couldn’t have them disrespecting it like that, and didn’t want them disturbing the owl, so I ran in. I tackled the one on the ground, and pulled at the ladder, sending the other guy falling. Lucky for him he wasn’t too high up, so nothing’s broken. I wish it was.

‘The police came pretty quickly – they were on standby, apparently. They arrested me for assault of a government official. Government official? He’s measuring a tree. I could’ve done that when I was five years old and climbing it… and I wouldn’t have needed a ladder. If he's a government official, I may as well be the Prime Minister! They questioned me for a bit, and I refused to speak, and they said they’d been tracking me for a while because I was a spotter. I was in serious trouble, they said. Someone new eventually came in and said I was free to go. They’ll be in contact soon.’

‘They let you go? You lucky sod. I’ve been fined for throwing gum on the floor! Who was the new guy?’ Farris said.

Alexander lifted his sleeve and tapped the small tattoo on his shoulder. It was an owl.

‘Spotter,’ Alexander said. ‘He was a spotter too.’ Farris laughed and shook his head.

Upon pulling his sleeve down, the front door hit the bell.

‘Where’s Alex?’ the visitor shouted, frantically. She quickly noticed him and ran over, falling into his arms. It was Corrina.

Chapter 4

Corrina was small and had long, blonde hair, coming together into a fringe at the front. Her eyes were a deep green, deepened further by the dark eyeliner around them. Freckles were dotted around her cheeks, and her face melted from worry into relief upon holding Alexander.

‘Are you ok? Where have you been, Alex? I’ve been worried sick.’

‘I’m fine, all is fine.’

‘You know all isn’t fine. I couldn’t find you yesterday, then you were arrested, and you never went home. I checked the tree, and then the morgue, and then the bloody graveyard. Do you not care at all?’

‘You know I care.’ Alexander replied. ‘Let’s go’.

Alexander finished his whisky and thanked Farris for it. He shook hands with Winston, who was now too drunk to talk, and Nina.

‘See you tomorrow.’ Nina said, and it upset all on the table. Nobody needed to be reminded, Alexander thought. He tipped the bartender and left.

Alexander and Corrina turned left after leaving the pub, heading towards Alexander’s apartment. Corrina was quiet out of anger but held Alexander so close. She was so relieved to have found him. She thought he was dead.

They continued down the street – houses to their left, houses to their right – and turned left towards Alexander’s apartment. The houses were the same here as they were on the previous street. Eventually, he broke the silence.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t find you. It’s been difficult, but just know I’m fine. You have no idea how hard it is to have seen it – to have seen the owl.’

‘Yeah, you’ve told me Alex, and I’m trying to support you, but how do I even know if it's real? I’m not sure whether it’s the tree or the memories you’re attached to. I know that it was the place you’d go with your father, and I know he gave his life for it, but are you really going to let it take yours too? If the tree represents your father, he wouldn't want this.’

‘How do you know what he would want? Don’t you dare make out like I’m crazy. I’ve seen it, Farris has seen it, Winston has seen it, Nina might as well have seen it. My father saw it. Think of each of us and the attachment we have to it, to nature. It’s more than just an owl and it’s certainly more than just memories. It’s more of a faith than any religion I know, and it’s more real than anything I’ve ever seen, or touched. The second I saw the owl I was immediately afraid to lose it - and its tree. Tomorrow I’m losing them both and everything my father stood for, so excuse me for acting irrationally.’

In talking, they had walked past Alexander’s house. Every house was identical, so it was an easy mistake to make, and happened often. To tell them apart, one had to concentrate on each number. They turned around in silence and walked to the correct number, which was five houses back. In their silence, the mechanical murmur seemed louder than ever.

They walked up the stone steps, holding onto the cold metal railing, and soon arrived on the sixth floor - he was ‘6C’. He pulled the key from his pocket, his vision slightly blurred from the whisky, and opened his door.

Inside of his apartment, there was an explosion of green, like an oasis in the desert. Climbing plants painted the spots in his walls that did not have plant pots, and there were petals of red and yellow, and blue, and purple. From his ceiling hung pots filled with ivy that drooped down and delicately stroked those that walked beneath it. They walked forwards through his hall, past his bathroom on the right, and his bedroom next to it (which was as beautifully chaotic as his hallway) until reaching the living room. Two large chairs faced the doorway, one dark green and the other red. Between the two chairs was a photo of Owl Oak, with Alexander climbing the thick, right-angled branch as his father held his hand. Corrina saw it and felt bad about her accusations. She no longer felt any anger.

‘Tell me the story of the owl again,’ she said, as Alexander poured two glasses of whisky. He topped Corrina’s up with tonic water. She preferred it that way. Alexander took the glasses to the chairs, choosing to sit in the green chair to the left whilst Corrina took the red.

‘I was seven and at Owl Oak with my father. It was a Friday, so I waited until father finished work to visit it with him. We walked down just before sunset, past other trees that I would run my hands through or pull leaves from if I were on father’s shoulders. The sky started blue, turning orange through the walk and was almost entirely black when we arrived, fractured by stars – do you remember when we could see stars? There was still enough light to make out the shape of the tree, so he lifted me onto our branch and held my hand as I balanced. I fell a few times, but he lifted me back up, and each time I could stand for a little longer. We sat under the tree, using the base as a backrest, and he told me stories. He told me about the owl. He had never seen it, but his father had, and so had his friend – Winston. He wished to see it but was scared that it would be so magnificent that he would never love anything else again.

‘We eventually stood up and took a few steps back to admire the tree. You remember how it was when there were no houses around it, right? Anyway, it fitted in, and looked so perfect. He put me back on his shoulders and began to walk away when we heard it call. It was subtle, and mysterious, but we both knew what we had heard. No symphony could ever sound so sweet. Following the sound was a great flap, followed by another, and another, until we could hear something in full flight. We looked up, and above was the silhouette of a barn owl: it was so big yet so small; so powerful yet so delicate; so beautiful yet able to expose all ugliness in humanity. As it continued, seemingly in slow motion, the moon lit it up, turning it from a silhouette into a glowing image, its cream and light brown feathers reflecting every drop of light. It glided around the tree, as my father and I remained in silence, mouths open, barely breathing. Even if we'd tried, we wouldn't have been able to get a word out - nor did we want to. It lapped it a few more times before slowly approaching the top branch where it just sat. I could have sworn that it was looking back at us, with its huge, black eyes. After a few seconds – which felt like hours, or years - it returned to the darkness, never to be seen again by us. Father remained still for a short while longer, and I looked down from his shoulders to see a tear leave his eye, glowing in the moonlight. I knew from then on I would forever be changed.’

Alexander’s story became quieter and quieter, until it was a mere whisper at the end. He looked up at Corrina, leaving the moment and returning to reality. He noticed that she was crying. He didn’t mean to upset her. He took her hand and kissed it.

‘I’m sorry I scared you today,’ he said.

‘I’m sorry I ever doubted you. Oh, Alexander, sometimes I feel like the only time that you are ever true with me is when you are telling that story. It is so real. It is so raw. I love you therefore I trust you, and if you saw the owl, then so did I.’

Alexander and Corrina finished their glasses and went to bed, falling asleep to an audience of green.

Chapter 5

At 6:00AM, Alexander was woken by a knock on his door. He knew what the knock meant, but checked who was at the door before answering – he would be arrested if the wrong person saw the way he decorated his apartment. It was Farris.

‘Open up, Alex… I know you’re there. It’s Farris. It’s time.’

‘I’m coming.’

Alexander threw on the first clothes that he could find. He kissed Corrina on the head, careful not to wake her. He turned to see her for the last time before everything would change. Everything slowed down as he looked at her – so peaceful, so beautiful, so unknowing – before he ran for the door. He did not know what would happen when the tree was gone. He did not know if he could live without it.

He ran down the steps and to the front door where Farris was waiting. They did not greet each other, instead sprinting down the street, turning right and running past the pub, and arriving in minutes. Winston was there. He had deep bags under his eyes, and his shaking hand was holding Nina’s. She wore black and held her head low.

Armed police surrounded the tree whilst machinery was driven in. The huge chainsaw – attached to the back of a truck – was escorted in by more police towards the base of the tree. It was ready to make it a corpse. Farris looked at Alexander, who remained emotionless. He knew that they had lost this battle. There was no more that could be done.

Alexander felt the presence of his father whilst the truck reversed; he saw the photo in his living room and remembered it being taken; he remembered running rings around the tree, chased by his father, who would catch him and just hold him; he remembered seeing the owl. He looked up to the top branch where it once perched. It was not there.

Why would you not show yourself more? Alexander thought. You could have saved this tree. You could have saved my father, and me. Curse you, owl. You killed my father, and you killed this tree, and next you will kill me.

What if I had not really seen it at all? He thought. What if it was just a dream? Have I really given my life to something that doesn’t exist? What if I was crazy, and my father was crazy, and Farris and Winston are crazy too? Nina is only half crazy, for she only believed a loon, and Corrina is a quarter, for she questioned me.

Upon thinking of her name, Alexander looked over to the branch that he scratched ‘A+C’ into as a child. He thought of Corrina and how she loved him despite him being in love with another – despite him being in love with an owl, and a tree. He wanted her to be with him when it came down.

Alexander looked over at Farris – he also looked to the top branch, hoping for the owl to rescue the situation. There was still no sign.

The truck was now close enough to the tree to make the fatal wound. They had planned the incision during the night, ensuring that it would fall safely, and had a lorry behind the truck that would start construction on new houses immediately. Farris walked to Alexander and held his hand with a firm grip.

‘You did all you could, brother,’

‘The owl was real, right?’ Alexander asked Farris.

‘The owl is the most real thing I have ever seen. It is the only thing that I am certain of on this planet. Do not doubt yourself now, brother.’

Alexander, through tear filled eyes, looked at Farris, who sympathetically smiled. He lifted his glasses to the top of his nose and held his sleeve, lifting it to expose his small tattoo. Winston did the same – after Nina noticed and prodded him. Alexander followed suit.

Nina walked to Farris and held his hand too, making a chain of those that cared.

The chainsaw started and all felt the grip on their hands tighten a little. Nina squinted her eyes, scared to see it all fall in front of her. Farris’ glasses had steamed up, and Alexander wiped them for him. Winston began to cry. The chainsaw was brought closer and as it was about to make contact, Alexander felt somebody hold his empty hand. The size was familiar, and he caressed the palm with his thumb to confirm it was really her.

‘I love you, Alex. I believe you.’

‘I love you too.’

The chainsaw made contact and Owl Oak began to quiver, releasing a cascade of acorns, like rain. The machine went through notches and smooth patches before Owl Oak was ready to fall. The police cleared a path, allowing the chainsaw to make one final thrash. It was over.

Hand in hand, they all watched it fall. It fell slowly, and gracefully, like all that it embodied, and as it fell, something great, and powerful, flew from the top branch.

It spread its wings, showing its mighty wingspan, and seemed to host no anger as it flew, as beautifully and as powerfully as the first time that Alexander had seen it. Alexander was a child again, on his fathers’ shoulders, knowing for the first time that his life was changed forever, before returning to Corrina, and watching her see it for herself. Nina looked up with a painful euphoria, finally experiencing for herself what she deserved to see, in the final moments. Winston felt young again, remembering when he became a spotter - remembering what he once was, and when he fell in love with Nina. Farris both laughed and cried, holding Alexander's hand high and shaking it. Corrina glowed, her mouth open, her free hand covering it. The owl continued to fly, as officers looked in disbelief, some falling to their knees. It flew higher and higher, before disappearing into the distance.

‘It’s real, Alex,’

‘Isn’t it beautiful?’