The Wishing Tree

The Wishing Tree

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WpMetadataReadIn corso13m
WpMetadataNoticeUltima pubblicazione dom, ott 25, 2015
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Narrativa
Fantasy
Anna have had a happy life. Her mother has been a father and a mother to her, but she did an amazing job as both. When her mother dies in a car accident, Anna's world crashes down. Her mother is then buried where she always wanted to be buried, under the apple tree she and Anna planted 12 years ago. Anna goes everyday to that tree and talks alone pretending her mother somewhere is listening. She starts to ask for help and sort of "wishes" and strange things begin to happen......... Is her mother's spirit really helping her or is the tree a magic tree?
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„The sunset is beautiful, isn't it?", she asked, the sound of her voice strained, as if she hadn't been talking for a long time. The boy sat next to her, staring forward into the leaving sun. He didn't even look at the young woman when she spoke. Yet still he could feel himself, only a small part of himself, longing to hear more of her voice. It used to calm him down, singing soft lullabies whenever nightmares haunted him, or telling stories to him and his brother. It was the only comfort he could rely on. And he ended it before it could poison him. Silence filled the vast empty space. Only a single Rowan tree swayed in the non existent wind, its branches reaching down where the two figures sat, sheltering them from any harm that may come their way. It was time to leave this place again. He couldn't stay here for long. He hugged his knees tight, unconsciously swaying back and forth as he did so. Maybe, if he hugged himself hard enough, he could stay here and listen to one of her stories again? Just one short story. His efforts were in vain. He realized that when his hands and feet started to disappear, just like they have done thousands of times before. There was no way things could continue the way they were now. He knew he had to stop, but a selfish part of him was still holding onto that hope that everything would be okay once he opened his eyes. „Auntie,", he said, preparing his next words. „I... really prefer sunrises." 0101011101101111011100100110110001100100011100000110110001100101011000010111001101100101011100110110000101110110011001010110110101100101

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