Anaxileah
From the Depths of Hell
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<div style="text-align:center;"><p><span style="font-family:'Shadows Into Light Two';"><span style="font-size:24px;"><span style="text-decoration:underline;"><strong>The Boy in the Trees</strong></span></span></span></p></div>
<p><span style="font-family:'Shadows Into Light Two';"> </span><span style="font-family:'Shadows Into Light Two';"><span style="font-size:18px;">Once upon a time, there was a little boy. He had no home, like many children in the world. Although he had no house and no family, he had one place where he felt at home. Every day he visited this place, and every time he went there, it was beautiful. His chosen place was hidden along the edge of his city, and was magical in its own way. It had a bubbling brook and a patch of flowers surrounding two trees. These trees weren't ordinary trees. They were special. There was a small opening at the bottom, wide enough for the boy to fit inside and curl up in. Above the opening, the two trees were woven together, twirling into a spiral and producing a mixture of flowers. When the sun shone through the leaves, colors would surround and awe the boy. Every morning, the boy would wake up and pat the trees, smiling and saying, "Good morning, trees. Make today more beautiful than the last," and then he'd leave to go to the city in search of food or coins, had he the luck to gain either. At the end of the day, he'd return and see the two glorious trees standing amongst the blooming flowers. He'd smile, rub the roots of the trees, and tell them, "Let's rest for another good day, shall we?" And he'd go to sleep in his usual spot between the two trees. One day, after saying good morning to the trees as usual and good night as the sky became dark, he saw a shooting star from his little perch between the trunks. The boy became excited and scrambled out of his little opening, kneeling before the bubbling brook and putting his two hands together as he looked up at the brilliant night sky. "Please, oh please, great star, make tomorrow special." After praying to the star, the boy went back to his opening and fell asleep. The next morning, he stretched and felt well-rested. He patted the trees, said good morning and left. However, when he returned to the trees later that evening, he cried out in horror. Someone had hurt one of his trees. The tree had been cut, leaving a giant scar on what remained of his poor tree. The boy knelt at the standing stump, and began to weep. He continued through the night, kneeling at the base of the broken tree. The next day, he awoke to a lovely aroma. When he opened his eyes, there were beautiful flowers sprouting from where he had wept before the tree. He picked each one of them and placed them on the stump, while stifling another sob. He looked to the other tree and realized that the other tree felt the same way as he did. It remained in the ground, twisted and alone, as if it were being tortured. The boy leapt up and hugged the other tree, promising that he would never abandon it. After a few years, the boy grew with the remaining tree. He became taller and smarter from listening to the city people, but thinner from lack of nutrients. He was able to scrape by with enough food to keep himself alive, but the boy was like the tree: dying. The tree began to droop over time, and the flowers wilted. The brook slowly turned from a bright, clear, blue, to a dark, murky, brown. On the boy's next birthday, he awoke from the sudden sound of a machine. He looked towards the city and saw smoke rising above the town and towards the trees, making the night sky look even darker than before. The boy couldn't fall back asleep, frightened by the smoke, and clung to the tree with all his might, afraid that the smoke might make it disappear. When morning came, the sky was still dark. It was a gray color, as it usually is before the rain. Now that the boy could see, he stepped away from the tree and looked all around him. The brook was black, the flowers dead, his tree drooping and alone, and the sky a mixture of black smoke and dark gray clouds. He looked to the city and only saw anger, hatred, and frustration. The boy didn't know what to do. He fell to the ground in a crumpled heap, tears streaming across his face. He didn't know what to do in a world so full of hatred and darkness. The boy moved himself closer to the tree and hugged it. Suddenly a voice came out of the dark clouds. "Are you here by yourself, boy?" The voice asked, and the boy looked around frantically, terrified. The voice came closer. "It's alright, I'm not here to harm you." Out of the dark smoke came an old man, gray all over. His hair was gray, his clothes were gray, even his skin was a pale, gray, color. But when the boy looked into the old man's eyes, he saw something he hadn't seen in the horrible people of the city. He saw a light. "Why is there magic in your eyes?" The boy asked, confused. "No one else has magic in their eyes." The old man chuckled and crouched down to look the boy in the eye. "Everyone has magic, little child, but the people in this city have lost it. They're trying to find it again, but in the wrong way. Now, are you alone, my child?" The old man smiled at the boy, and the boy felt more comfortable in the man's presence than before. He nodded. "Well, that's a problem, you see? I'm a lonely man. I may still have magic, but I'm all alone, like your tree, there." The old man gestured to the tree that the boy was still clutching. "My tree lost its friend. I promised that I would never abandon it." The boy looked up, tears in his eyes. "But it's scary here. I don't know what to do." The boy sniffled and wiped his nose. The old man moved closer and wiped a few of the boy's tears away. "I'm sure your tree knows what to do." The man smiled and looked up towards the tree's remaining leaves. A brightly colored flower had grown on the tip of the tallest branch, and was about to fall. "What do you mean, mister?" The boy gave a confused look to the man, then looked back at the flower. A gust of wind suddenly blew on the tree, removing the flower from its branch. "It's going to fall!" The boy cried out, worried. As he was about to leap up to chase after it, the old man grabbed his arm gently. "Just wait." He said. The boy, although reluctant, listened to the man and sat down impatiently. He looked around desperately for the flower, and to his dismay, it didn't return. The boy looked down in disappointment, staring at his dirty hands. He felt a tap on his head and looked up to the old man. In the old man's hands was the lovely flower. "How? How did you do that? Was it your magic?" The boy asked, astonished. The old man smiled. "No, my child, it was the will of your tree. I think it likes me." The old man said with a wink, and the boy giggled in response. The old man smiled, and nodded towards the tree. "I believe I have permission from your tree. You're allowed to go." The boy widened his eyes, eager to leave, but then looked pulled back, his look of hope defeated. "But where will I go? I haven't eaten in a long while, and I have no water from the brook to drink. What do I do?" The boy questioned looking back up at the old man. "You can come with me." The man told him, and the both of them smiled. The boy turned to hug his tree and give it a kiss. "Thank you," he whispered to the tree, and he left the black darkness of his city. He left the black brook, the dead flowers, the drooping tree, and went with the man of magic, following his light.</span></span>
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<div style="text-align:center;"><p><span style="font-family:'Shadows Into Light Two';"><span style="font-size:24px;"><span style="text-decoration:underline;"><strong>The Boy in the Trees</strong></span></span></span></p></div>
<p><span style="font-family:'Shadows Into Light Two';"> </span><span style="font-family:'Shadows Into Light Two';"><span style="font-size:18px;">Once upon a time, there was a little boy. He had no home, like many children in the world. Although he had no house and no family, he had one place where he felt at home. Every day he visited this place, and every time he went there, it was beautiful. His chosen place was hidden along the edge of his city, and was magical in its own way. It had a bubbling brook and a patch of flowers surrounding two trees. These trees weren't ordinary trees. They were special. There was a small opening at the bottom, wide enough for the boy to fit inside and curl up in. Above the opening, the two trees were woven together, twirling into a spiral and producing a mixture of flowers. When the sun shone through the leaves, colors would surround and awe the boy. Every morning, the boy would wake up and pat the trees, smiling and saying, "Good morning, trees. Make today more beautiful than the last," and then he'd leave to go to the city in search of food or coins, had he the luck to gain either. At the end of the day, he'd return and see the two glorious trees standing amongst the blooming flowers. He'd smile, rub the roots of the trees, and tell them, "Let's rest for another good day, shall we?" And he'd go to sleep in his usual spot between the two trees. One day, after saying good morning to the trees as usual and good night as the sky became dark, he saw a shooting star from his little perch between the trunks. The boy became excited and scrambled out of his little opening, kneeling before the bubbling brook and putting his two hands together as he looked up at the brilliant night sky. "Please, oh please, great star, make tomorrow special." After praying to the star, the boy went back to his opening and fell asleep. The next morning, he stretched and felt well-rested. He patted the trees, said good morning and left. However, when he returned to the trees later that evening, he cried out in horror. Someone had hurt one of his trees. The tree had been cut, leaving a giant scar on what remained of his poor tree. The boy knelt at the standing stump, and began to weep. He continued through the night, kneeling at the base of the broken tree. The next day, he awoke to a lovely aroma. When he opened his eyes, there were beautiful flowers sprouting from where he had wept before the tree. He picked each one of them and placed them on the stump, while stifling another sob. He looked to the other tree and realized that the other tree felt the same way as he did. It remained in the ground, twisted and alone, as if it were being tortured. The boy leapt up and hugged the other tree, promising that he would never abandon it. After a few years, the boy grew with the remaining tree. He became taller and smarter from listening to the city people, but thinner from lack of nutrients. He was able to scrape by with enough food to keep himself alive, but the boy was like the tree: dying. The tree began to droop over time, and the flowers wilted. The brook slowly turned from a bright, clear, blue, to a dark, murky, brown. On the boy's next birthday, he awoke from the sudden sound of a machine. He looked towards the city and saw smoke rising above the town and towards the trees, making the night sky look even darker than before. The boy couldn't fall back asleep, frightened by the smoke, and clung to the tree with all his might, afraid that the smoke might make it disappear. When morning came, the sky was still dark. It was a gray color, as it usually is before the rain. Now that the boy could see, he stepped away from the tree and looked all around him. The brook was black, the flowers dead, his tree drooping and alone, and the sky a mixture of black smoke and dark gray clouds. He looked to the city and only saw anger, hatred, and frustration. The boy didn't know what to do. He fell to the ground in a crumpled heap, tears streaming across his face. He didn't know what to do in a world so full of hatred and darkness. The boy moved himself closer to the tree and hugged it. Suddenly a voice came out of the dark clouds. "Are you here by yourself, boy?" The voice asked, and the boy looked around frantically, terrified. The voice came closer. "It's alright, I'm not here to harm you." Out of the dark smoke came an old man, gray all over. His hair was gray, his clothes were gray, even his skin was a pale, gray, color. But when the boy looked into the old man's eyes, he saw something he hadn't seen in the horrible people of the city. He saw a light. "Why is there magic in your eyes?" The boy asked, confused. "No one else has magic in their eyes." The old man chuckled and crouched down to look the boy in the eye. "Everyone has magic, little child, but the people in this city have lost it. They're trying to find it again, but in the wrong way. Now, are you alone, my child?" The old man smiled at the boy, and the boy felt more comfortable in the man's presence than before. He nodded. "Well, that's a problem, you see? I'm a lonely man. I may still have magic, but I'm all alone, like your tree, there." The old man gestured to the tree that the boy was still clutching. "My tree lost its friend. I promised that I would never abandon it." The boy looked up, tears in his eyes. "But it's scary here. I don't know what to do." The boy sniffled and wiped his nose. The old man moved closer and wiped a few of the boy's tears away. "I'm sure your tree knows what to do." The man smiled and looked up towards the tree's remaining leaves. A brightly colored flower had grown on the tip of the tallest branch, and was about to fall. "What do you mean, mister?" The boy gave a confused look to the man, then looked back at the flower. A gust of wind suddenly blew on the tree, removing the flower from its branch. "It's going to fall!" The boy cried out, worried. As he was about to leap up to chase after it, the old man grabbed his arm gently. "Just wait." He said. The boy, although reluctant, listened to the man and sat down impatiently. He looked around desperately for the flower, and to his dismay, it didn't return. The boy looked down in disappointment, staring at his dirty hands. He felt a tap on his head and looked up to the old man. In the old man's hands was the lovely flower. "How? How did you do that? Was it your magic?" The boy asked, astonished. The old man smiled. "No, my child, it was the will of your tree. I think it likes me." The old man said with a wink, and the boy giggled in response. The old man smiled, and nodded towards the tree. "I believe I have permission from your tree. You're allowed to go." The boy widened his eyes, eager to leave, but then looked pulled back, his look of hope defeated. "But where will I go? I haven't eaten in a long while, and I have no water from the brook to drink. What do I do?" The boy questioned looking back up at the old man. "You can come with me." The man told him, and the both of them smiled. The boy turned to hug his tree and give it a kiss. "Thank you," he whispered to the tree, and he left the black darkness of his city. He left the black brook, the dead flowers, the drooping tree, and went with the man of magic, following his light.</span></span>
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