Ever since my younger years I had come to lie on the grassed banks of the same ageless river, spreadeagled on compressed dark soil as long fingers of yellow-green danced. My half-closed eyes watched sunbeams pierce the shivering willow canopy. I would retreat here when I felt on the verge of losing myself.
Some time ago, in fact, as the memory is still vivid within my mind, it must have been recently; I ran, withdrew to the riverside, and found that the largest of the trees had finally freed its rainfall-exposed roots and fallen, all stripped slivers of brown cast across the slopes. Without knowing quite what to do, I curled up in a damp hollow beneath the horizontal trunk so that my bare skin rubbed comfortably against its warm bark.
As it happened, I fell asleep. I awoke to darkness, despite still feeling the burn of early afternoon: another tree had fallen and trapped me. These were old, strong trees, too heavy to move. I had a fervent desire to stay within my hideaway. There was abundant dew runoff to drink, but when the teeming supply of insects still living within the trunk dwindled and I started scraping my tongue in desperation, escape became an unavoidable necessity.
It felt like each part of me which could be damaged was damaged. Hoarse cries for hours came to naught. Fingernails were torn with frenzied scrabbling. Hands and limbs were bruised and bloodied from space-deprived convulsions of furious movement. It was a wonderous surprise when apropos of nothing the tree covering me groaned and began rolling down the bank. I clasped my arms around it and had my broken body dragged to the blissfully cool river, and moments of cleansing later I let go of the dead tree and followed it down into the deep, peaceful waters.
Not bad, not bad at all, especially the use of ‘apropos’- definitely not used enough in the modern world
zomgrollin’tree.