From The Collections Of Rhye

♧♣The Tree Of Life♧♣

“will you stop fidgeting Eska, you are going to soil your dress. We are in the park to play not for you to dig a hole in the ground for the worms to sleep in.” Said Annie O’Neil to her 7 year old daughter Moreska.
“but I’m bored...and Chris is playing with dad their stupid game of treasure chest. I mean think about it mum..what treasure one could possibly find in a park other than the ones left by Mr. Kirk’s dog after eating his pasta” said the 7 year old, rolling her eyes.
“Why can't I go to green-dale to uncle Tristan’s place???” Tristan was her uncle back in the capital. He was the director of the state department, and hence had a certain liberties that Moreska seem to enjoy in his company.
“you know why kid,  our state has been hit with severe drought and your uncle has certain duties he has to fulfil.” said Annie with a stern face. To which her daughter scowled under her breath.
It had been over a month that the state of Senolove had been hit by a draught. Some cities effected than the rest. At least the park they usual went to was still green.

Moreska was a spiting image of her mother, the glasses and a snaky attitude to go with it. Only that she was taller, which she got from her dad.  Annie secretly thanked the gods for it.

Being short wasn't easy.

“Alright......snarly little brat..come along i'll show you something..” said Annie as she scoped Moreska up on her feet.
They walked a few paces to reach the centre of the park, a tall hazel nut tree stood in the dead centre, its branches entangled in almost a circular symmetry, extending towards the ground, forming a perfect circle as they arched to touch the perfectly manicured grass.
Annie bent down to her knees and scraped the tree trunk wit her sleeve.
“Ah...do you see this...right there...” she exclaimed adjusting her falling glasses.

At first Moreska couldn't discern what her mum was pointing at but as she drew closer she could make out an image etched into the wood of the tree faded by the beatings of time and weather.
It was absent any rough edges, as though the marking were born into it. The dark wood in contrast to the etched inner of the image gave it a sense of awe. The etching was but of a tree, with its roots twisting to form a triangular shape.
A tree on a tree, how in-original thought Moreska. Yet she found an odd sense of curiosity associated with it.
“that’s beautiful mum...”  exclaimed Moreska “never noticed it before....its amazing”

“I know kid....it is...
tell you what...” said Annie noticing the markings had caught her daughter's intrigue.
“you agree to stop getting dirty on your trips to the park then I'll tell you how this markings got there... deal?”
this piqued Moreska's interest and she sat up straight nodding vigorously.

Annie smiled and continued
“well...this they say this happened ages ago, I knew about this when I was your age... so the story goes like this -
long ago they say a colony of Irish families had settled on these lands, they were simple folk bred in Celtic beliefs. the older made their living by working the land and the younger ones worked in the factories.
And among them were the children, and they say this park was their favourite  place to be. They literally spent their childhood away here they say.
Anyway,
so one day,  as they always did, gather on the park grounds to find them barbed and blocked. Apparently a big shot construction company had bought the land for 'developmental” purposes. Dejected they sneaked into the grounds to give a farewell to their favourite park.
so they gathered flowers, fruits, bird feather everything they could get their hands on and arranged them neatly into a tin paint can. A layer of flowers below, followed by a fruit, a cat skull of some one' favourite pet, then a layer of leaves and hazel nut branches. The kids were so keen on leaving their park a tribute that They didn’t even bother about the cuts and gashes they got on their young palms. Each article they put in stained with their untested blood. One of them would have scars on their young hands till they lived but they couldn't bring them selves to care. they sealed the container and dug the roots of a young tree that met the light of the rising sun and said a silent prayer in the hope their park would be safe.
But unfortunately albeit all the prayer and hope the company finally took over the land and begin its work on it. Many summers past and the young ones then moved to the city for their education. But a funny thing happened,when a group of them came back after a while, they noticed the company barricades we gone and the work shut down.
So they asked around, and apparently the company had to give up their plans, because no matter what they tried, what area they dug up or cleaned, everything they destroyed would grow back again.
intrigued the kids sneaked into the park and stumbled onto the tree they had dug their tribute. It had grown above bounds, the area where they had dug their tribute, roots had coiled in a triangular fashion around it and on its young trunk a flawless etching of the tree of life was strakly prominent. Till now no one knows how it got there.
People that lived around these parts say it was their Celtic gods, the mighty three that honoured the innocent tribute of those young Irish kids.
This park they say never runs dry, always blooming and growing. Some even believe the life source of those kids is linked to this place,
' as long as they live to be so shall this place be,
thus the mighty 3 decree.”

finished Annie with a smile.
The story all done they spent some time there discussing Norse and Celtic mythology.
as the sun set lazily across the horizon they set for home.
But just as Annie got into the passenger seat she cut her self on the Swiss army knife her son had left open. as she dabbed her blood with a tissue, the etching into the hazel nut tree in the park lit up with a golden glow and as a branch from it withered and fell while the cut on Annie's palm healed and scared. Now she had two.
Tracing the scars with reminiscent fingers Annie thought back to -
How she had dared to love the nature as a child,
How she had grown from the little girl that offered tribute and thus became bound to the tree of life.