Writing Prompt

I’ve never thought much about the trees. They were lonesome, looming creatures. I came to Hylthane Forrest because it provided safety and solitude. Sustinence. With such little thought given, the trees did eventually become my friends. I was enthralled with their fettered beauty. Their strength. I longed to care for them the way I never was. The care I so desperately ached for.

My life, the life...

“Witch,” they called her.

“Crone! Sorceress! Hag!

All and sundry was thrown at her. Turnips, carrots, potatoes, even a leek - who knew they could hurt so bad! Once she was driven out of the village, she thought that things might calm down. She was on her own. There was no one for miles. _It’ll be a hard life, but I’ll manage, _she thought._ _Then the trees had started talking to her.

...

Shrieking with fervour, the crow flaps its wings: once, twice, then leaps from the branch and vanishes into the fog. The girl stumbles back and the tree branches reach out to her in response, their gnarled fingers mimicking a mother’s tender touch. Using the branches to ready herself, she resumes her trudging pace, each footfall sinking like stones into the soil. As she heads further into the fore...

Growing up in the city, I always felt bad for the trees. Forced to live and grow in tiny dirt plots carved out of the sidewalk for decoration. Even the ones in parks, that are given a bit more room to grow, still have to contend with the poisoned air and artificial environment. It wasn’t until I was invited on a hiking trip with some friends that I realized I could understand the trees. Turns out,...

As the sunbeam whispers to the trees ,

So too can your heart whisper to your soul ....

The trees had always spoken, but now… she understood them.

At first, it was a whisper to the winds, a shiver in the leaves. Then the words came- low, ancient, laced with something hungry. They spoke of roots that stretched beyond time, of things buried deep, still breathing beneath the soil.

“You are one of us now,” they sighed through the brittle branches. “And, so they will come for you too.”

...

The smell of spring is the year, a young woman is walking through the woods on her way home frome school. Out of nowhere, her music stopped playing. " What the hell?” she asked, checking her phone. She kept pressing play, but nothing was happening. She thought she heard talking, so she took out her headphones. Then she heard it again, plain as day. “Where is that voice coming from?” she thought lo...

“Strike us down,

We’re full of wilt,

Take our branches,

No ounce of guilt,

Axe over shoulder,

Swing quick to kill,

This torture,

Most would will,”

The witch of the Deep Dark Dangerous swung her rusted blade into the trunk of another tree. With rapt intention, another fell, while she sung her little melody.

“For my table,

Rich and strong,

Mighty oak,

Would do no wrong,

Patience like,

A smal...

The trees can speak

I hear them whispering

They can speak

Not how you and I do

I walk on the path you see before you

I walk daily

Feeling like something is reaching out to me

Like a friendly thing trying to say hello

I hear them in the breeze

In the leaves

In the very path before you

You may not hear it

You may not see

But it is real to me...

She ran into the woods branches catching at her hair. Her brother had ran past her way further than they were ever supposed to go. Where could he have possibly gone? She leaned onto an old gnarled tree trying to catch her breath when she heard something whisper to her go deeper in. As she trekked further and further in she saw his hat stuck on a branch high up, way further than either could have r...