Night Angel

The Talking Tree.

"Who are you?"

Voiced a deep, dark voice, making the leafs eerily tremble in their wake. It reminded me of the time Da used to deepen his voice to terrify me. At that moment I missed him, missed him so hard I was sure he must have started hiccuping, wherever he was.

I tried to sit up but stopped when the forbidding whisper returned.

"If you leave now," Warned the tree in a coarse voice the, a dark figure against the moonlight, "I will, uh, curse you, yes curse you, you wretched scamp. I will make sure all your hair falls before you're twenty."

I stood still, frozen. Than I scoffed, "Sorry to tell you Miser Mr. Tree, but autumn doesn't dawn on us humans."

The tree turned quiet, shivering in the slight wind. As for me, I was shocked, afraid, angry, excited and remarkably  hungry. Hungry indeed.

I took the apple that had fallen and took a grand bite.

"Hey," Cried the tree, "My baby!"

"What? This?" I glanced at the oozing apple and than back, grinning, "You can spare. You have so many already."

"Ah yes," Mumbled the tree while I devoured my meal. Something about the way he said that made me think of a man stroking his cat, lost in thought.
"Darling Apple Heart has no mercy on me. Ah, she never stops. Such indulgence, such intensity! I always find myself cowering day on and day on." A wind rattled it, as if in consent, "Deflowering me with flowers year after and after."

A chuckle left my mouth as I looked up glibly at the huge tree. "Am I actually talking to a talking tree?"

"Hmm?" It trailed off vaguely. Than the voice turned sugary sweet, "Of course I am a talking tree. I am magical. All stars and moon and fairy dust. Kneel before me, peasant."

"Oh really?" I drawled. looking at it up and down, searching for a face, "And yet here you stand, unmoving and still. Why should I kneel when you are the one answering to my actions?"  

"Not you," The tree retorted, "I only answer to Lady Diana, the keeper. She's a hog, I tell you. Never lends anyone a free bite of her fruits. And that ugly dog of hers. Ugh."

Chuckling, I replied,"You just said the fruits were your babies."

The voice lightened, "Don't remind me. They're such a branch ache."

I fell back and laughed. It felt nice, laughing genuinely for the first time ever. And in the quiet breeze with me under the rising moon, I felt as if this was my golden hour all along. 

I laughed some more, and the tree joined in a little.

"You talk," I mumbled in after-thought, "It's real. Really real."

The tree was quiet, and three apples fell down. I gathered them quietly, satisfied that my task for the day was done.

I looked up, "Do you have a name?"

After all, I did vaguely wonder who the imitator really was. It wasn't like there was an actual talking tree... though, a girl could dream. 

As if it had read my thoughts, the tree stilled, standing proud as it branched off, filled with lush leaves.

"Milo," The tree whispered quietly "Milo. That's my name."

"Milo," I smiled but the tree jutted in, "No, no. Not like that. It's Milo. Mee-lo."

"Mee-lo." I resounded, and the tree looked almost nodding, "That's right."