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A rough draft of a new work. Feedback and suggestions would be appreciated, and I will continue to revise and re-edit this story.
And oh yes... it's about a tree.
|AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (1)
On Being Invisible (Poetry) Has anyone ever really heard what you have to say? If they did, would they care? [354 words] [Mind]
You know who I am. I've been here for some time now.
Yes, that's me. Down here, in the shadows, where it's cold and dim. Down here by your roots--that's right.
I know you see me. Peering down through your many leaves you see that bit of green in all this black. Me.
Do I frighten you?
No, I suppose I don't. Not yet. I'm a simple scrawny sapling, what threat could I pose to the towering oak that is you?
So you're secure. Good.
However there are a few things you should know.
I've never seen the sun. How could I, with all of your leaves and branches in my way? I live on the light you allow me--the scattered anemic rays that filter though you as you bask in your own greatness. And as I suck up my photon allowance I am greatful.
But don't you ever wonder how I survive on this? How I stay so green and firm living off your meager light-gifts?
And water. Sweet, cool water--iI feel it often. but drink it seldom.
You see, down here I'm tangled in your roots. and when it rains, When the liquid silver pours off your broad leaves and on to my still, slender body, your root suck it all away. Before I can even taste it.
Oh, you leave me my patch of dampness to drink from. My stringy white roots search and suck through every inch of soil they can reach. I leach the moisture from my bit of ground, and yes, I am greatful.
But whils my brothers and sisters have starved, shriveled into compost to be gobbled by your glutton roots, I survive. I take only what you give me, and I thrive. Have you ever wondered how?
I'll tell you. But not just yet.
I know you're poisoning me. YOu've done it all my life. As a seed I fell from your cradling boughs and landed right here. I took root, and began to choke on the poisons you fed me.
It's perfectly natural, of course. every living thing creates waste, and it makes perfect sense that your wastes would be especially toxic.
But that's where I'll surprise you.
I've learned to live on your poison. Not only that, I've learned to love it.
It took a long time to get this way. For years, as a child, i forced myself to draw your waste from the ground and hold the stinking vitriol in my veins. I brought myself to the threshold of death a thousand times; but each time I held back. And I grew stronger.
Soon I could eat you poison for days and feel nothing. Soon again i could swallow it indefinitely and feel good.
All this as you towered ignorantly above.
But, as nutritious as I've forced your poisons to be, they are still poisons. and I and still poisoned. Deliciously toxic, my sickliness hides inside. And I remain your poisoned seed.
Still secure in your majesty? Perhaps. And perhaps there is a tiny tremor, somewhere in the smallest twig of your farthest branch. Perhaps, on some plane, you realize the dangers of your waste-sucking spawn. Your poisoned seed.
But you don't know it all yet...
All my life, I've quivered here among your roots, drinking in your petty gifts of light and water; sucking up your waste of bile, disgust, contempt. But I've not been idle all the while. I have one goal besides survival.
I can sense you getting weaker. I feel the decades weighing on you. As I rise above your roots, every day, the gap between us grows smaller.
YOu see, I have the advantage here. I will become stronger every day, while you will only die a little more.
And one day, when my growth and your death bring us eye to eye, I will have my revenge. I will make you see.
As my leaves grow and begin to cover yours, I will block your light until you are forced to live on the same meager glow that I do. And you'll die even more.
As my roots grow over anf through yours, I will leach the water from the ground until you are left to lick at your own moist spot of earth, and you will shrivel.
As i grow and my sick wasted core expands, I will feel you back all the poisons you gave me. And then some. And you won't have time to learn to eat them.
And as you decay into a nothing shell and I snake my roots into you, feeding on you, tasting you, loving you the way you never loved me, I will give you one last thing.
I will make you know, as you die below me, that it was I who finally drank your life away. Yes, I. Your poisoned seed,
|READER'S REVIEWS (5)
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"Hmm... well, you did say that it was a rough draft, so I'll give you that. But while I was reading this, I somehow felt that you weren't even sure of where you were heading with this. Grateful isn't spelled 'greatful'. :-) I think somewhere in the middle, after specifically naming it a tree, you turned it around it was a human with veins. I get it, but the way you brought it along didn't seem to fit with the rest of the work. But hey, The idea was pretty cool, so when you write the final draft, I'll read it. oh yeah... what does 'whils' mean? do you mean 'while' or 'whilst' when you say this? Good work; see ya! :-)" -- Kimberly De Liz.
"What a great metaphor, it could have been a tree, it could have been ???? great work " -- Janae Anthony.
"WEll Nitro , I have had my fill of you tonight. The first time here for me. After reading this I don't know whether to review it or refer you to counseling? I can't tell if its your mom or your boyfriend , if you are angry or sexually abused but it is good. I like you and your writing. I also guess you are a little "mello dramatic". I am hoping you are anyway but do well. You are too lazy. I understand laziness, maybe your writing is as much for therapy's sake as it is for writing's sake. Whatever, it is good and you are sesouas (that is definitly not spelled correct) and I am lazy too." -- rivers.
"If anyone cares, it's 'sensuous.'--The Advisor" -- JA St.George.
"good job. i liked the metaphor of the poisoned seed, i could really feel the hate the little seed had for the mighty tree, but it was suppressed, controlled rage which is all the sweeter and which makes this story work, otherwise you would probably be all incoherent...the title "Poisoned Seed" was awesome, wish i had thought of that for some of my stories :) it was a little bit too long and repetitive in theme in some parts (emotion is only half the story)...also, i wonder why the mighty tree was so toxic?" -- sunny, dc, usa.
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