PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
Proudly stood that solitary tree amid the ochre bricks and daisy-strewn lawns. It grew where the grass wasn’t mown; a magnet for kids from streets around, its arms constantly full of adventures enacted by marauders, happily distracted from the tedium of long holidays.
So we couldn’t comprehend the sudden death, lightning dealt our friend. The leaves crumbled and the lifeless branches humbled; it remained bare for five years and bound with barbed wire to keep the children down, who just climbed higher.
Until one spring, a sprout of green and branches swarmed again with naive belief and that prodigious disregard for mortality.
Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.
Such a poetically written story! I loved that tree eventually began to regenerate.
Susan A Eames at
Travel, Fiction and Photos
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Thank you, here there’s life and all that
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Happy ending 🙂
Rather, a new beginning!
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Thank-you
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Dear Michael,
You took us full circle, from contentment to horror and, finally, to hope. Nicely done in 100 words.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Thanks Rochelle, glad you liked it
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Resurrection. A delightful tale Michael.
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Thanks Keith
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Such a positive write.
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Thank-you
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Beautiful lyrical writing, Michael
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Thanks Neil, that’s what I was looking for this week
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A hopeful ending, nicely written.
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Thanks Iain
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That sprout of green offers such hope. The power of nature is wonderful.
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Nature will always triumph, despite our efforts against it. Thanks Clare
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it looks like it was given a second chance in life. let’s see what tomorrow brings.
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This is about an actual tree as I was growing up. Sadly, once it had started to thrive again they chopped it down to build a house on that patch of ground
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I enjoyed the hope in this story, yet I felt there was a hidden message due the terms ‘five years and barbed wire.
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This was about a tree we used to climb as kids and when it died, the adults put barbed wire round it to keep us down but we just used the wire to help us climb, something to grab onto and footholds. 🙂
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Disregard for mortality! How true of Nature.
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And young people, they won’t desert the tree just because it appears dead
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Such amazing life! Beautiful story
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Thanks Laurie
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I love the tree starting to grow again… there is something so poignant in the circle of love.
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That’s what I think Bjorn, thanks
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I love that the tree sprouts again at the end, and that they thought of it as a friend. Nicely done with evocative word choices throughout.
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Thank you, I’m pleased you liked it
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An inspiring tale.
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Thanks Sandra
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That was a beautiful write, Michael. Poetic…
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Thanks Dale
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So very beautifully written.
I especially loved the last line. ‘… naive belief and that prodigious disregard for mortality ‘. Wonderful!
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Thank-you, very kind of you to say so
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You’ve taken an ambitious concept and achieved some fine results. I agree with Moon; that last line ‘… naive belief and that prodigious disregard for mortality ‘ is excellent.
I am interested in the rhymes – crumbled/humbled and wire/higher. You’ve set them in a rhythmic structure that approaches poetry. Was that the effect that you were trying to achieve? It’s an intriguing experiment.
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Lovely! Life proliferates even in the wake of great adversity. Nature is truly miraculous.
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Thank-you, I’m pleased you liked it
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Thank-you for your comment. I try different things most weeks to see what works. Sometimes the line I think is a cracker gets ignored and everyone comments on a different one. This is actually the story of a tree we used to climb as kids and which I wrote a poem about. (If you’re interested it’s under this comment. I’m not sure about certain bits of it.) I used some of the poem for this FF. It actually happened as described, when they thought it was dead, the adults put barbed wire around it but that just helped us climb. Sadly once it was back to health they chopped it down to build a house.
Let the Children Climb
Oh how proudly stood that solitary tree
Amid the ochre bricks and daisy-strewn lawns
Of the housing estate, that was home to me.
An old oak of countless bright dawns,
It grew at the corner of a patch of ground,
The only place where the grass wasn’t mown,
And where youth could collect from streets around,
To play together and be left alone.
Seldom were its arms empty of adventures enacted
By marauding children, happily distracted
From the tedium of long holidays
And television documentaries.
It saw fights and sights withheld from adult eyes
And seemed to flourish on our joyful playtime cries.
But we mourned and couldn’t comprehend
The sudden, violent death, lightning dealt our friend.
The leaves died and dried and began to crumble,
The lifeless branches naked, humble.
One defiantly pointing, accusing the sky,
That now hid its tyranny in snow-white cumuli.
Five years it was bare and bound with barbed wire
To keep the children down, who just climbed higher.
Then one Spring, a sudden sprout of living leaf
And the branches were full again with naive belief.
Unwind the wire, remove the cruel restriction,
Let the children climb high on vernal conviction.
The tree grows green, dressed with an old, frayed rope,
Nourished with the irresistible power of hope,
The savage intensity of our innocents’ loyalty
And their overwhelming disregard for mortality.
If we stay the rules, they will climb high and swing free
Whilst they should, let our children suspend reality.
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Dear Michael
Thank you for posting your poem. I love the sentiments – I was a fearless tree-climber as a child. And the phrase “vernal conviction” is delightful!
With best wishes
Penny
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Wow. Beautifully written. So much said with so few words.
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Thank you and thanks for the follow
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