I Put Way Too Much Work Into This

6

A tree of long branches, and graceful leaves, sitting on a lone hill, filled with Wisdom like Solomon of Israel. It would always know the answer and provide the solace and kindness for the people of the village below it.

The boy was a godsend, important and loved.

Yet there was something of him unknown, his grundy attitude filled with atrocious behavior.

He wanted to sterilize anything that was seen as rotten in that head of his.

And his optic would always tell him what needed to be blemished.

'There is something foreboding in the air.' That being of the tree had thought on that day.

And those thoughts, that it had once had, turned into a reality a few hours after, as it saw a boy abnormally perfect come walking up its hill.

But as the boy got closer, the being relaxed because it knew that this was the boy the folk of the town always spoke about, the one who was of great priority and being.

But the new image of the boy was soon thrown out the window (or would it be 'bark'?), as the boy's first words slated the tree's wisdom.

Furthermore, the boy's beauty soon seemed to leave as he continued his speaking; his facade was falling.

"Ha! You aren't even saying anything! This is definitely the correct time for your disposal!"

"Yes! I'll get this all done in a jiff!"

The being wasn't worried, even if the boy's voice was filled with determination. This was due to the tree having much durability in its 'body'.

But even as the tree thought of itself as correct and gave the boy hardly a side glance, the boy merely had to expend a molecule of energy to take out almost the entirety of the tree.

The tree almost spoke, yelled, or did anything, but in a last endeavor to reserve its essence, the being said nothing.

But the boy in his perfect self expected this and stomped his foot on the remaining parts of the tree causing a crunch to be heard, whilst obliterating the tree forever.

The tree's thoughts from afar were heard in the boy's head, sending pride and a tingling sensation through the entirety of his body; "I, of something so strong and powerful, is nire to have an entity again".

Countenance, it was, the ever-looming being reincarnating itself into something of more use, but for now, peaceful times would be in the village.

There was no rhyme or reason for this story to be created and thinking back on it. Why? Why was something like this excused to be of existence? Maybe the tree, once hated, yet still revered that was soon forgotten, is just like these tales of nothingness.

Maybe, it's better off in the gutters of someplace far off from here.