Short Stories by Me

Archie's Treehouse

In another time, another place, there is a field. The field stretches for hundreds of miles anywhere you look. All you can see is a long dirt road, green grass that never grows and never dies, and a large tree about three miles from the road.

The tree is not like any other tree in the world. The leaves are all perfectly manicured, in a smooth shape, a shape that looks almost like a house. Its trunk stands thick and sturdy, as though nothing could push it down. But the strangest part of the tree is that there are windows right on the leaves. Ten windows, to be exact. All of them are perfectly level, some directly above another. And there is one door. The door is old, it's red color fading, the wood chipping away slightly. Directly below the door is a rope ladder. It's rungs sag, decaying from decades of use in the sun. It's a wonder that it hasn't broken. And to top it off, there's a delightful little chimney-like branch coming right out of the top.

At the time that our story begins, an old man is making his way toward this tree on a bicycle. The man, Archie, definitely looks too old to be doing this, but he does it anyway. On his back is a large bag, slowing him down considerably. But he peddles on, his face looking determinedly at the tree.

"Almost there," Archie whispers to himself. "Just a little longer, old man."

Just a minute later, Archie reached the tree, and he parked the bike in the shade of the tree. He climbed up the rope ladder, opened the door, and walked inside. From the inside of the house, no one would be able to tell that they were inside of a tree. It looked completely normal, with wood log walls, and plain furniture. In one corner, an old dog laid next to four very large, almost empty food and water bowls.

"Sparky!" Archie smiled, crouching down and spreading his arms out, and the dog lazily got up, though his tail was wagging slightly. Archie smiled as the dog licked his arms. "Did you have enough food and water, boy?"

Sparky licked his face in response. Archie smiled and stood up, walking to a small counter in the corner, next to a fireplace. He got a fire going, tossing a few logs in, then carefully lighting it with a match.

"Do eggs sound good?" Archie asked veigly.

Sparky barked a little.

"Good."Archie nodded, taking the bag off his back and reaching into it, taking out a few eggs.

Archie had just gotten back from the city, which was very far away. It usually took a day or two to get there on his bike, and he spent a day there getting food and such for the next month, and then made the journey home. He made the trip about once every month and a half. Or, whenever they ran out of food. The journey was always long, exhausting, and worrisome, but seeing Sparky (who was very good at taking care of himself, for a dog) was always worth it.

"I think that some oranges would go well with this. I'll be right back," Archie told Sparky as he scurried to the corner and pulled down the attic ladder, climbing up.

Another thing about the tree that Archie lives in is that it's magical. It grows fruit. This may not sound magical, but it is. The tree does not only grow one type of fruit, but everything that grows from the ground, a bush, a tree or a vine.

Archie examined the leafy, colorful walls, for the only thing that looked man made up here was the wooden floor below his feet. He saw a few nice big oranges in a spot low on the wall, and quickly picked three of them.

The old man and the old dog rested the rest of the day, just like they do almost every day of every week. They were too old to do much else. Archie used most of his energy on his trip to the city every time he went.

A month and a half later, Archie filled Sparky's bowl til it was overflowing with food, and he filled three bowls full of water. This always lasted for Sparky, who was a relatively small dog and didn't require much.