The travelers were the same, but also different in their own ways. Fathers carrying young children on their shoulders, couples striding hand-in-hand, the elderly walking slowly and thoughtfully. They all had one thing in common though, they all looked up at the majestic tree as they passed by his gaze. Many would stop and take a photo in front of the living monument and children would crawl all over his tentacle-like roots with their little hands and feet.
May 15th started out like any other day in the life of the tree. The sun splayed its dazzling early morning rays across the landscape. The hikers passed along the path as usual. As the day wore on, the sun began to slowly shirk away behind the clouds. It wasn't until the sun had completely wrapped itself behind them that the tree noticed that the white tufts had become black and began to boil with rage.
They rolled swiftly across the sky, like dark mud being stirred in a clear spring water. Hikers began to hastily skitter back the way they came. Save for a few that ran frantically back and forth in search of something. Perhaps shelter from the impending sky-bound doom. As the air was swallowed up in darkness, a barrage of tiny water-arrows were set loose from the rolling clouds. The dry and cracked bark of the tree began to greedily absorb the water as each piercing drop found its mark. They began to trace the outline of the tree as they slid down chutes in the bark, ending in large droplets at the roots.
After a few hours, a rushing sound could be faintly heard as water began to enter the ravine. At first it was nothing more than a few inches of gushing water, licking the bases of the smooth boulders. After a while the shallow upheaval turned into a raging river that was being funneled through the small canyon.
The water came up to the roots of the tree, stealing clay, sand, and dirt as it swiftly sped past. Various debris could be seen as it careened down the newly-formed river at terrifying speed. Branches, backpacks, leaves, cups, small living creatures, and trail markers were all struggling to stay afloat in the foamy torrent. The tree began to lose grip as more and more of his holdings were erased by the thieving flood.
The rocks and boulders that he had held on to so securely, began to slowly roll away in the thrashing water. The earth beneath him began to crumble as he started to sink down into the frothy maw. All at once, he was engulfed by the rampaging water. The tree was buffeted and struck against the walls of the flooded canyon as he was forcefully carried along. Branches snapped and leaves were violently separated to fend for themselves.
Through the chaos, the tree felt something familiar. It was a feeling that was often accompanied with the sound of laughter and bright colors. It was the hand of a child grasped firmly on one of his branches. A little boy was clinging for dear life to the one thing that was large enough to keep him afloat in the raging river. He gasped for air as he reached with his other hand and tightened it around the bough. The ravine widened, slowing down the current for a brief moment and allowing the boy to pull himself up onto the trunk of the dying tree.
The flash flood dumped the tree and the boy into what had once been a dust bowl, but had now transformed into a shallow lake. The tops of cacti poked out like turtle heads and tumble weeds floated upon the surface. The boy, exhausted from his ordeal, fell asleep on top of the tree as it bobbed around the moonlit desert lake.
After the storm, a search and rescue unit found the boy. He had been distracted by a lizard and had become separated from his parents during the storm. They were there and rushed passed the others to take him up in their arms, thanking the lord as they did so. He was shaken and suffered a few cuts and bruises. But thanks to the old gnarled tree that used to overlook the ravine, he was alive.
No comments:
Post a Comment