Seed's Story: In Which Resistance Is Futile

Seed's picture
Chapter 1: In Which A Question is Asked Repeatedly and Our Hero Arrives in the Setting

Seed's Story, Chapter 2 : In Which Resistance Is Futile

“We have brought you home,” the trees said. “Homethey repeated – it wasn’t just one tree speaking, but almost all of them – all the ones that weren’t quite individuals, all the ones whose roots were wrapped around each other in tangles. “Home.” “Home.”

“No, you took me away from home,” Seed said. He looked around for a path out of this forest, which existed above and below the time of deer. It stretched as endlessly as the forest he had left.

“Home is where you belong. Come back to us,” the trees chorused. “Back to us.” “Us, us.” “Belong to us.” The rustled it along his spine, dropping the words like rocks in his brain, where they hit the walls of his skull and rebounded. It almost felt like they were ringing bells in his head. “Belong.”

“…I’ve chosen a different path,” Seed answered, looking down at the ground. They were there, too, but at least he didn’t have to look at them. The knots in the bark of the trees that surrounded him resembled great eyes, like the eyes of an owl. They were eyes, without giving the trees eyes, without ceasing to be bark. Trees without full wills of their own were simple – they could withstand being contradictions like that.

“A bad path,” the trees replied. “A lonely path,” they added. “Lonely?” “Lonely?” They rustled a bit, whispering too low for him to make out. They seemed to be gathering up for strength, for unity. “A bad path can be walked backwards on. Try again.” “Again.” “Again.”

“No,” Seed said. Then, there was a bit more rustling, the trees adjusting themselves further. Then, at once, there was just the wind in the trees – no more, and no less. Seed blinked. “I didn’t think they’d actually take that as an answer.”

And so Seed began to walk alone through the woods. He didn’t pick a direction – it didn’t matter. Unless he knew the way out, he wouldn’t be able to find it, and the forest would just loop back on itself. He wondered if having always lived in a world that completed itself like a loop had influenced his work – his favorite forms of poetry all did the same, repeating their lines and landmarks until you reached the end. Which was, of course, the beginning, save for the distance travelled. There was something poetic in that sentiment – he decided to ponder it over later. He then came to the base of the Old Oak, still lost in his own thoughts.

In the world inhabited by deer, the Oak was bare as far as the eye could see, so tall and so broad she didn’t branch until she reached heaven. Here it was a different story. Here, she lowered her antlers from the weight of time, here they formed writhing serpents decked in green. The green was deep and pale, tinged here with brown, the leaf buds glowing almost red, wet and supple. They formed haphazard bundles, arising from the tips and sides of her branches. The branches knotted themselves as the circled around the tree – from above, it must have looked not unlike a spider web. Still, she was the great Old Oak, with the great gaping hole into her heart. He had always wished to ask her about that, but had never had the courage.

“Oh! Little one! What are you doing back here, sugar?” she asked. In his head, her voice sounded old and warm, like a quilt. He had never really had a mother, much less a grandmother – but that was what grandmothers sounded like in his head.

“The rest of them brought me here. They want me to go back to being with them…or at least a tree. They’re a little vague on that,” Seed said. "I could use some help finding my way back before round two begins."

The Old Oak gave what he said some thought and shrugged without ever once moving, making the gesture in his mind. Then she looked down at him so strong it felt like a punch and she said, “Best do what they want, hussies or no.”

“What? You’re on their side? Mother Oak!” He twitched a little with shock, jumping up enough that his legs had to spread out to catch himself. His jaw dropped. He looked up at her from under a furrowed brow.

“No, sugar. But you were a part of them once, my dear. You were a part of them like they were a part of me. They know you – you gotta watch yourself, honey, because they know how to break you. They don’t have our class of morals, no. They’ll do it.”

“I…I can handle it. They don’t know much about deer. Thank you, though, for your concern,” Seed smiled, bowed, and walked off.

“But they’re always watching, little deer. They’re always watching…” The Oak Mumbled.

Totally awesome

Totally awesome <3
Pegasicorn's picture

You will be assimilated.

You will be assimilated. *shot* Sorry, that's just what it made me think of. |D
Seed's picture

That was the idea. ^^ They

That was the idea. ^^ They are the borg -- I mean, trees.

(on both counts, XD)
Iaurdagnire's picture

That was awesome!

That was awesome!

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