It wasn’t the biggest or oldest tree in Hawthorne County; nor
was it especially ugly or lovely. It grew green in the spring, scarlet in the
fall, and in the winter, snow blanketed it along with the rest of the county,
in crystalline perfection.
The thing about this tree was that every twilight, the birds
of the county would gather there. You’d think with so many, it’d fall under the
weight, but it held. Jays would circle it, giving their “all’s well” cries,
punctuating the few silent spots between the chatter.
Sometimes people passing it swore they could hear words.
Mr. Smith set up a new scarecrow.
The Anderson twins skipped school twice this month to go fishing.
Bethany Peabody has been having guests after dark again.
Mr. Smith set up a new scarecrow.
The Anderson twins skipped school twice this month to go fishing.
Bethany Peabody has been having guests after dark again.
Sometimes someone would get it in their head, if they climbed
it before twilight, if they kept still, they might hear everything the birds said.
This was nonsense of course, because most who tried only got white stains on their clothes to
show for it. And the others, well, while it was a mostly unremarkable tree,
some mornings the person was gone, but you’d find the trunk had interesting new
gnarls.
Song choice: Chatty Chatty Mouth by the Gladiators
Process note: This is a bit of flash fiction with a 200 word limit
