Alexander and the talking tree.

By the time Iskander had finished his journey, dusk had fallen and the speaking tree had transformed into a lady.

Iskander never fully understood the allure of the female sex, as far as he was concerned they lacked the strength and raw vitality of men.

The talking tree was no exception, a face of fragile features dressed in fine leaves of gold. Nobody of course, rather just a face blossoming from the twisted branches.

It was hard to take such a colorful, frivolous creature.

“Singing tree I have travelled across the plains and many lands to address you,” Iskander said giving the tree lady a dubious look.

In the approaching darkness, her eyes glowed brown gold as they swiveled towards him.

Her lips, full and the color of pomegranate, twitched.

“All hail Alexander the Great, I have been waiting an age for you to arrive,” she smiled.

It had been years since Iskander had been refereed to by his correct name.

“Really? An age?” he asked, feeling rather flattered.

“I compile the “greats” you see, My husband and I have a running competition as to who will collect the most and so far I am winning! I even have Yun the great from China” the singing tree laughed.

“Your husband?”

“The male talking tree who appears during the day, we only look at each other the moment dawn breaks and the instant sun sets” the talking tree explained with a small laugh.

“Honestly it makes for a good marriage, now come to me Alexander”.

Iskander found himself sitting by the talking tree, in awe of her masses of lavender and gold.

“Talking tree I have come to seek my fortune,”

“Oh Alexander the great there is no need to play coy, you have come to seek far more than a fortune,” giggled the tree.

As she shifted in, the wind she smelt of lost dead flowers.

Something animal skittered in her branches.

“You have come to ask a question that terrifies you, how may you live forever?” she asked and Alexander who knew the secrets of blood, bone and murder breathed heavily.

“Yes” he hissed.

“There is no answer to your question Alexander, for nothing lives forever” the tree said gently and Iskander reached to his belt retrieving a dagger.

“Lies! Djins! Wizards! Demons!” he screeched.

“Are all ancient, but even they will perish. I am the talking tree, connected to all saplings and roots on this earth. I have seen the end of things, even those that live constantly will eventually succumb to the universe decaying and falling into darkness” the tree sighed her bows moaning with empty sadness.

“I should burn you to the ground for your impertinence” hissed Iskander.

“But you will not, I have foreseen my death, felt axes chop into flesh. My shiny corpse will be transformed into an end table and not by you,” laughed the talking tree.

Of course, if Alexander had arrived a few hours earlier during the day he would have received a a very different answer.

He would have seen a grand golden tree heavy with fruit.

The air hot wind would have smelt of cedar and magic.

A man's face that would look so very like his own would have smiled.

The talking tree’s husband, who appeared during the day was much more romantic than his wife.

As far as he was concerned certain ideas and stories did have the power of immortality.

He would have whispered to Iskander that the key to living forever involved becoming nothing more then words.

Passionate, frightening, legendary words.

But still words nonetheless.