The Last Tree Hugger.

Chapter One

Blood red, with two white, rusted, parallel stripes at the pointed tip. Made of cold, solid steel, with a cracked timber handle. On the worn handle were two giant, manly hands, clutching on to it, squeezing out every last little bit of life. The axe slowly rose above his head. As his tinted brown eyes squinted, several small balls of salty sweat were excreted from his lightly tanned brow, they rolled down the neatly shaven sides of his face, and continued to roll down his neck to the open top of his tieless suit. They appeared to reflect and intensify his anger, so even with the posh Rolex watch on his left wrist, he looked and behaved like a criminal at the peak of his career. In spite of his manly criminal aura, the weight was clearly too much for him to handle. Although his fierce, scarred face portrayed him to be the man for the job, his skinny, trembling, sweating arms suggested otherwise. His whole body was trembling under the pressure, as a crowd stood silently in a semi-circle around him, facing west, waiting for the deed to be done.

The summer sun began its long descent through the cloudless evening sky, and down the empty hills of Bakewell, creating an unforgettable, and unforgivable, silhouette of a man faced against his final obstacle.

The man stood tall at 5 foot 9 inches; however he was nowhere near as tall as his foe. He was determined, full of rage and allegedly unstoppable. Yet his foe, despite the occasional shiver, showed no emotion, only a string of repetitive sounds were whispered, and few were heard.

Higher and higher, the axe steadily ascended. It was at least 15cm above his short, dark brown, crew cut hair. The axe was old and looked likely to break upon-impact however, he had no intention of using a petrol powered chainsaw for this. It would have been too quick, and would have shown no power over his subjects. He had all the power. No one could take that from him. Ever. He had both the first and final say. He was always going to be someone. Unlike his nemesis.

Harrison, his opinionated young assistant, had desperately tried to change his mind by using every trick in the book. Even by blackmailing him. But nothing had worked, nothing was going to stop him now. That's what he reminded himself, as he abruptly plunged the axe into his mortal enemy. Releasing a loud grunt of pleasure, he twisted the axe burying it deeper in to the main body. Again. A resentful grin grew on his face, as he ripped the axe out and forcefully imbedded it back in the wound. Over and over he continued to attack, the vicious swings getting smaller and more frequent, until his foe was no more.

"TIMBER!" He cried in delight as the last tree ceased to be. Shrivelled leaves lay helplessly in large groups on the floor as if they were the final tears of the fallen tree. The disfigured trunk had fallen awkwardly, on the gentle slope of the hill it once stood proudly on. To its right, among and around the pools of leaves, chunks of bark and whole branches had rested as if they were dismembered human limbs. On the trunk, the base had been brutally hacked and the top was stripped of its once green leaves. The sandy waste land around it formed a discrete blanket over the trunk, as the North-Easterly wind genteelly blew, almost as if to show respect. To its left, trampling disrespectfully over the scattered splinters and in the puddles of dying leaves was its conquistador. The massacre had finished. Now, the only sound that could be herd was a solitary giggle from the soul victor. Alex. But the tree wasn't the soul victim.

Clutching a small cuddly toy was a young boy age of 7, with short black wavy hair and innocent, wide blue watery eyes. His face was blotchy and his green, tie-dyed, short sleeved top was stained with patches of salty tears.

"The trees have gone..." The young child quietly wept, squeezing his toy more tightly than before. He stared with great sadness at his lost friend, until Alex began to laugh.

"What will it matter, if a few people, cut down a few trees!?" He exclaimed in a fit of laughter, oblivious to the distraught child. "IT DOESN'T!" He madly screeched at the inanimate tree.

"It doesn't..." A short, stocky man repeated calmly, whilst trying to console the young boy. Alex spontaneously looked over to the man and his child, his eyes full of confidence and hate. "There all gone Alex.", The man bravely continued to speak, "I hope your happy, because no-one else is."

Alex rudely averted his eyes from the outspoken man and began to stare at the deceased tree, as if it were an alien. As his eyes glanced over the remains, he began to silently reminisce over the past few months, and reminded himself how he got here.