There were two trees at the end of the world. One was a desolate clawing thing, that grasped at the clouds on the edge of the world and clung to the cliff side in a desperate attempt to stay among the living. The other was a tree of fire, a tree so alive with color that it danced against the sky, raged against the dark grey of the storms that played around it, a tree that screamed that life was joy, celebration and a struggle against the pain and darkness.
Everyone understood the first tree, the first tree was predictable, the first tree you could depend on. It was what you expected of the tree at the end of the world. You saw it and thought, “Ah yes, here I am, world’s end.”
No one ever suspected the second tree.
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*To access the remainder of this story check out the short story collection Rain on a Summer's Afternoon on sale now for kindle and coming soon to paperback.
Love it. Left hanging. More to come?
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