Narra

One day, a Narra tree fell in love with a human.

It was so bizarre that even he, the Narra tree, felt that this wasn’t the way he was supposed to feel.  

He couldn’t remember the first time the feelings came crawling up and down his barks, vines, and branches. But he could remember the first time he saw her.

There she was, all flesh with heartbeats pounding against her chest, sitting down under his shade. She was wearing that yellow summer dress, a pair of old slippers, and a hat so big, it hid her face. But he saw it. He saw her face and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire tree life.

Her eyes were the colour of ink, pigeon’s feathers, and coals. So dark and deep, they resembled the sky in night time. Anybody could get lost in them. He got lost in them.

Her hair was long, straight but sometimes wavy, and it fell nicely around her shoulders. She would wear and tie it some days but most of the time, she just let it down. She looked wonderful either way. 

He didn’t know what made him love her. 

Maybe it was her laughter. Soft, gentle, filled to the brim, they sounded like the tinkering of thousands of wine glasses, and church bells singing. They echoed nicely and sometimes he would find himself longing to hear her laughter.

Or maybe it was her smile. Small, cagey, as if holding a secret or two she wouldn’t tell. It was warm enough to keep the cold away and calm enough to silence the confusion going on in him. 

Or maybe because she was human, with a beating heart and flesh covered in skin while all he has are trunks and branches used to make fire and kitchen tables.

Everything about her confused him. Even the moments that felt like an endless stream of blissfulness crashing into the core of his wooden body.

Every day, the girl would come around and sit under his shade. She would rest her back against the rough surface of his trunk and he would feel the warmth of her humanity on him. It was flesh against wood. Sometimes, when she had brought a book with her, he would watch her read quietly. But sometimes, she would just sit down under his shade and look around.

How madly he wanted so much to wrap his branches around her and let her be consumed with all the love he could offer.

One time, when the girl was quietly reading a book, he had mustered the courage to make the first move. 

To talk to her.

He wasn’t sure if it’s going to work but he tried it anyway.

“Psst,” he said.

The girl looked up from her book and her eyes wandered. She saw no one. She returned to her book and started reading again.

“Psst. Up here,”

Perturbed, the girl looked up and saw no one. “Is there anybody out there?” she searched in the branches.

“I’m just right here,”

“But I don’t see anyone.”

“You’re actually looking at my branches,”

With furrowed brows, the girl stood up and took a step forward. 

“Your branches?” she repeated. Then it dawned to her what the words meant. She gasped. “You mean you are the tree?” she asked, her voice was strangled in her throat.

Discouraged by the tone of her voice, the tree’s branches cowered and covered his trunk. 

“I’m truly sorry to have scared you away, my lady,” he quietly said, regretting what he did.