10 Days With Fatty

The Old Cherry Tree

10 Days With Fatty

Chapter One: The Old Cherry Tree

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She sat peacefully with a leather bound book lightly leaned upon her lap. Dappled light shone through the small gaps in the branches, creating delicate patterns on the soft paper, printed there the words that filled Jamie's head. The tales and adventures from far, far away intrigued her young mind and triggered her imagination to run wild. She loved the old cherry tree, remembering the days when her father used to read stories to her under the blossoming canopy. She would always sit on a large root that poked above the ground, worn smooth. Mostly, she would come to read there, to get away from the loud world outside; but sometimes she would come for comfort, feeling closer to her Father where there were so many memories buried with the entangled roots. As of now, the blossom was just blooming in the early days of spring. Bright yellow Daffodils sprung out gleefully in small parties where the snow had melted early, they were one of Jamie's favourite flowers. Her Father used to pick the biggest and brightest of them all when the first went into full bloom on the early days of spring. He would bow to her and offer it gently pinched between his fore-finger and thumb, and he would say..

"The most beautiful flower for my most beautiful princess in all the land"

Jamie plucked the drooping Daffodil from her Father's fingers and curtsied, dipping her head slightly like her Father had taught her.

"Why thank you my prince" They both straightened. Her Father stepped back as she tried not to giggle and ruin the fantasy. Her face turned red from the effort and her father's eyes lightened warmly. He offered his arm to her silently and she smiled, clumsily looping hers around his. They strolled around the luscious garden finally returning to the Old Cherry Tree looking quite the pair. All the while Jamie clung to the Daffodil like it would be snatched away from her, held to her heart as she looked up intently, concentrating on her dear Father telling stories of adventure and mystery.

She slowly closed the book, for a few precious moments she stroked the cover, then gently set it aside on the root. Glancing around her surroundings, she rose silently, pushing off from the root for momentum. Once balanced, she waddled forward but then thought better and moved back to the large tree trunk for support. Holding on tightly to a thick branch she slowly, painfully, bent over, a whoosh of air escaped from her lungs from the effort. She stretched out her chubby little fingers for the thin stem of the large Daffodil, wincing as she did so. When they wrapped around the tiny stem, she pulled. It snapped easily, and she straightened, still holding onto the thick branch as she caught her breath. She closed her eyes and clasped the flower to her chest. Memories and images flitted through her eyelids, a rouge tear running down her plump cheek.

A poem told by her Father once, flashed across her mind unexpectedly. She whispered it under her breath, the deep voice of her Father echoing in her mind with each word.

I wandered lonely as a cloud,

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

A name tugged at her mind, Will... William Worswood? No, William Wordsworth. It clicked in her mind and she smiled to herself. She picked up the book, again leaning against the tree trunk to do so, and with the book in one hand by her side and the other clutching the Daffodil to her chest, she proceeded inside leisurely, taking her time to stroll back.

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A/N:

Well Welcome new reader, I hope you like the beginning of this tale. It is in no way meant to be offensive.

Thank you for reading!

-C