The Plight of The Pine

The trees saw all the sins of man…

They had become the dirt and rose from it time and time again..

Over millennia they rose and fell until one day they fell and rose, only to find a ceiling made of concrete.

The Takers arrival was foretold in the shriveled leaves carried in the wind. A great pine in a great forest received the word. They were coming. The word was drought and the falling of those far, yet dear.

It wasn't always like this. When the pine was shorter and had far fewer rings, there were other trees that would blot out the sun. Though what the other trees took, they shared with each other. When one grew weak, another's roots would reach out to provide nutrients and reassurance.

The winds of winters came, followed by harsh summers. Sometimes storms would bring down the trees, ripping them from the embrace of Mother Earth. For them, it was on to the next phase of being. Trees understand that nature is cyclical. What starts in the dirt, ends in the dirt, and starts once again.

It was bitter for them to go, but all things do, some sooner than others.

Unfortunate ones were reduced to stumps. Though their song had changed, the song always changed.

The wind, the leaves, the birds singing, the bugs buzzing, the breath of wings, rippling of rivers, the earth itself. Tectonic plates crashing, creating pressure like that of atoms being split.

It is all connected.

It didn't take many rings for the pine to know this. Or to know despite the harmony there could still be strife.

A nearby oak tree shared grumblings about a weeping willow. Who was encroaching its space and hogging the sun's rays. Disputes between trees can last years. The winner is usually whosoever branches reached the others first. Years would go by, for a fight to be over. The days and nights went by with the years, and with the willow being closer to the creek, it grew faster and further than the poor oak tree.

The pine could only watch as his friend that had known him since he was a sapling was slowly wrapped in a shadow of leaves.

The pine had long allowed a robin to nest in its branches and had grown quite close with him and his family.

It pleaded with the robin to do something. The robin complied, and much to the surprise of the pine he moved his family over to the weeping willow. The pine felt slighted by the robin, he cursed it for deserting their friendship and dooming the oak tree to a slow death.

The willow laughed at the two, saying that it will eventually make its way to the pine as well. Unbeknownst to the willow, the robin was carrying a sickness in its droppings that the pine was immune to, though the willow was not.

As summer went on the willow noticed dark spots on its leaves. It tried to shed the leaves but it was too late. The willow told the robin to leave, though there was nothing it could do at this point. The disease crept through its wood. The branches that stretched to the oak tree withered, and eventually broke.

The oak was free from the assault and able to grow as large as it wanted. It grew triumphantly along with the pine. The willow wept in embarrassment, and only spoke to the river.

Over the years the summers were good, and the winters cold. Until one day messages carried forth in the leaves from the east bid warning of a coming plague.

The oak, and the other pines took heed of the warnings but knew their roots were strong and deep. Besides, the deer and hares would let it be known if there was immediate trouble; and the wolves, wildcats, and bears would frighten the most full-hearted of beings.

To the dismay of the pine and its family, in the distance came an omen. Smoke, black as the dirt billowed from the east.

The oak, being the oldest and wisest, remarked it likely was a forest fire from the recent storms.

The weeping willow spoke for the first time to them directly in years, out of mutual fear. It said that they were all doomed.

The oak and pine mocked the willow, for breaking its years long silence in this fashion.

It explained that the taste of the creekwater had changed. It was now foul, and filled with impurities.

This gave the oak pause. So it requested that the willow speak with the fish about what was happening if anything. If anyone knew why the creek was foul it would be them.

The pine thought this was a wise idea, though they would have to take both the fish and the willow at their word for the Robin, amongst other animals had left.

After some days, the willow relayed a grave message. The fish said that down the river creatures had begun to hunt them without mercy; unlike any other predator they had encountered before.

They filled the river with their presence, and filth.

Initially the oak and the pine distrusted the words of the willow, given their history.

Though it insisted that it had nothing to gain in a ruse, even if it were one, would it not be better to side on the error of caution?

The oak considered these words, and agreed.

Years passed and the trees continued to grow and in the distance they saw the treeline becoming thinner and thinner. They felt the falling of trees far in the distance, their songs lost in the wind.

It was now that trees felt a very real fear. As the threat began to get closer, a strange hum came with it. One that permeated in everything. It caused animals to scatter and change their migration pattern. The fish became less plentiful.

The final omen was the migration of the deer. They ran, hid amongst the trees, fearful for their lives. The wolves and wildcats came soon after, though they were hunting the deer, they too were running from something.

They all shared word of the same creature. They called them Takers, and with them they brought death.

Eventually they replaced death with things called towns. Sprawling buildings they made from cannibalized trees. A horrifyingly barbaric process, the pine thought. It thought such creatures couldn't be so sadistic, it had to be exaggerations.

When they came it was a brisk winter day. The crows above initially scattered but then circled nearby. Their squawks boasted in delight of a fresh meal. Apparently the Takers didn't use all of the kill. “How bad could they be then?” The pine asked the others, “They gifted a meal to the crows.”

As typical, the oak gave a wise response. “What's a gift to the crows is not a gift to all. I will remind you what the crows delight in almost as much as their meals, is death.”

As if in answer, the noise of fellow trees rumbled throughout the forest, the crack of their branches, their screams.

The noise did not stop once they were put down. There were buzzing sounds, rhythmic tapping that went on for days. Small fires were started but did not spread. They illuminated the forest in ghastly shadows.

Shadows that the pine couldn't help but think were the ghosts of his distant friends.

The long anticipated meeting of these Takers finally came to a head. They scurried into the woods with a sort of brash bravado. They inspected the pine and its friends like property. They measured them, and grunted strange sounds at each other.

They left, returning to their small vestiges they had carved from the wilderness. The pine and the others were relieved. Though the oak warned, “A day passing is nothing.”

The willow responded, “What is there to fear? The takers have but a small plot of land, they have food, they have water, what more could they need?”

The oak affirmed the pines' thoughts, “They are called Takers for a reason.”

When the takers came it was with the rise of the sun. They moved with the swiftness of a pack of wolves. The pine watched in horror as they surrounded the oak, the wisest and largest of the three trees.They brought with them a long toothed object that reflected the sun. They lined the object across the trunk of the oak and began to move it back and forth. When it cut into the oak it created a dreadful gnashing sound.

The pine and willow cried for anyone to stop them, but all the animals were too afraid or had already been killed by the takers.

If the oak felt pain it did not show it. It said to the others, “Fear not, for whatever befalls me, or wherever my body ends, I will come back anew as the earthmother wishes.” When it fell it creaked, and moaned over the excited hoots of the takers.

All the trees nearby gave a moment of silence; the rustle and whisper of their leaves ceased. The Takers even seemed to take notice of the uneasy change in the air. They shrugged at each other and continued their barbaric work.

It took them several days to dismember the rest of the oak. The willow and the pine watched in horror as oak was carved up piece by piece. The pine took note of the calculated use of every part of the wood.

The rumors were true, the pine thought. It did not have time to mourn, it only had time to be in fear.

The day came when the takers stood in front of the pine, who fought the pull of the wind in defiance. Where the other trees swayed, it stood strong and still. One of the takers leaned on the saw, which the pine had learned the name of in listening to the grunts of the takers.

Much to the pine's surprise, one of the takers placed his hand on the base of the tree with admiration. They moved on and continued to cut the trees surrounding the pine.

The willow exclaimed, “How fortunate we are!” Though the pine felt an insurmountable guilt for each tree murdered. As the pine stared at the stump remains of the oak it knew, it was still early in their time there.

The years passed. The pine’s needles struggled to grow for some time. Its growth was stunted by the loss of its friend. It waited in vain for the oak to return from the stump.

More takers came. Building their dwellings all around the pine and willow. Until there were more takers than trees. More dwellings than trees. There was a dwelling that was built in between the willow, and the pine. For some years they couldn’t see each other through it, until they both grew tall enough to reconvene. The pine never thought it would be so pleased to see the willow again.

More takers came, and they brought with them loud shiny things they rode inside of. They were fast and spewed gas that made the pine sick. Though after some time it grew accustomed to these plumes.

Giant dwellings grew alongside the pine, larger than any tree the pine had ever seen. Everyday the takers walked past by the hundreds. It couldn't help but be amazed by what the takers had created, and what they had destroyed in the process of their creation.

Families came and went inside the ancient dwelling that was built next to the pine. They went about their lives and deaths hardly taking a note of the pines.

It was a sad day. The willow was cut down by takers with yellow shells on their heads. The pine could only see the tail end of it as the willow slowly fell away from the river. Before it fell, the willow uttered a farewell and an apology for the past wrongs. “Remember me!” It billowed, “You are alone now pine. You are the last of us! If they take you too, let them take with them bruises to remember you by!” The willow shook once, twice and there was a loud snap from its largest branch, followed by the screams of numerous takers.

The pine watched several more takers run back and when they returned they were carrying the others, limping, and hobbling along.

The pine laughed at the defiance of the willow. They laughed together. Though the willow was only delaying its demise. More takers came, and with them they took the willow away piece by piece. With each bit they took, the pine felt a piece of itself leaving with them. Instead of the typical sadness, it felt a rage when it looked at what remained of the oaks stump. Now it was just grass.

For many years the pine simply existed amongst the concrete, metal, and cannibalized wood. Alone.

Until one day a family moved in, and a small female child noticed the pine. Much to its initial dismay. she would climb up the pine blundering through its branches but not enough to harm the pine.

The child's family also carried this dismay, they would stand at the base of the pine waving their arms for the child to come down. She would nestle in the pines branches much like a bird.

One day she brought to the pine different pieces of wood and beat them into its bark. It only stung a tiny bit, but the pine understood what she was doing. Besides, the pine was glad to be acquainted with various woods. It was a hodgepodge, pine, oak, maple, and some the pine didn't know.

On nights when the smog lifted some, the girl and the pine would watch the stars together.

The pine attempted to speak to the girl about the stars and how long ago this city was once a city of trees. Glorious ravines, birds, and animals as far as the eye could see; but not it was alone.

The girl would mostly babble back, and the pine could understand little. Though it still felt a connection unlike any other. In response it grew faster than it had in quite some time. Its pine needles were green and proud.

Perhaps two years later the pine thought it had finally met its end. The child's father, and a few others had come one morning carrying objects that looked like saws.

As the takers surrounded the pine It remembered what the willow had said. The pine planned that when it fell, it would shift its weight to fall directly on the takers.

This saw was different, when it spun it made a terrifying noise that caused the pine to quiver. Its once rebellious thoughts grew squeamish.

Just as the father was about to cut into the pine, the child, taller with her years, stood in front. Her arms wide.

The pine heard raised voices. From the mess of words it understood from the girl, “It's the last tree.”

The father and the other takers grumbled and walked away. Much to the pine's surprise the girl wrapped her arms around the pine in a warm embrace.

The pine felt a joy that it had not in some ages.

It was a joy that was short-lived.

Years melted together, and eventually the girl who was small, now was big, as far as takers could get. When she left her eyes were full of tears.

The sun was glorious the day the pine was cut. The father returned with the saw. His daughter wasn't there to stop him.

The pain was bearable.The disconnection from mother earth was not.

In a desperate effort, pine spread seeds into the wind. The seeds were hardly formed, the chance they survived was small.

Soon the sensation of its roots went away, it felt separation from itself. It was a perplexing feeling, not knowing where “itself” was anymore, and being in so many places at once.

The pine left the place it had known all of its long existence. Now it saw parts of everywhere. Some places it was destroyed, others it was used to build.

Though the connection was still gone.

But not for long. Not long in the eyes of trees.

A seed found itself atop a patch of freshly overturned dirt. A groundhog had attempted to dig itself away from a fox, but it was not successful. Beneath the steaming remains the seed lay.

Initially there was nothing, but then there was everything.

A chill. The warmth of the sun. The moisture of the dirt. Roots sprung, reaching down into the earth, growing stronger as they went deeper into the dark. Until one morning, a small leaf uncoiled itself from the depths of the Earth.

The end is the beginning…