The Willow Tree

Thomas Monroe was not an old man by any means, he was in his early forties, quite handsome and distinguished, not even one gray strand could be found in his dark locks usually covered by his favorite hat, but his spirit was gray from the tolls he had given to life. He was a strong man, independant but not free. Sometimes he often wondered if it was he who even chose this life? He never paid mind to things beyond his sight and was not overly religious. He believed in a higher being and that was about it. Most of his life was given to his business. He worked very hard keeping his landscaping business flourishing, and times were sometimes tough, depending on the season.

It was nearing close to winter, a time when nature takes a break until spring brings new life to it. And a time when his landscaping business was pretty much asleep as well. Thomas owned an old farm home secluded from the traffics of the city..he was content there. Although he was surrounded by 30 acres afforded by his lifes' blood, he didn't do much work outside of his immediate 5 or so acres surrounding his house.

He lived alone mostly, as the woman he once loved had become a stranger to him, or maybe he had become the stranger? He didn't dwell on it too much anymore, he worked and spent most of his time and money keeping her warm and safe and dry..he had not the courage nor desire anymore to set himself or her free. So they existed together, but worlds apart..

Mrs. Monroe had given up on asking him to clear the grove about 15 acres away. But something came over him this day to do it..call it a wild hair or call it fate. He gathered his necessary farming tools and a few men who had been his dedicated employees for nearly two decades and they hopped on tractors and headed out, plans in hand.

Upon entering the grove something very unusual came over Thomas. Something deep inside his mind stopped him dead in his tracks, and for what seemed like an eternity time stood still. Stunned by the sound of a saw he snapped out of it but moved cautiously towards the center of the grove where it seemed a voice was calling to him. There hidden amongst all the dead trees and shrubbery was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. Thomas fell to his knees in awe, tears streaming down his face..he knew and felt something, but understood not. He closed his eyes tight and tried to contain himself. But it was not for the other men, he didn't care at this moment if anyone even noticed his strange behavior. All he could see was the wonderous life that stood before him. It was no ordinary willow tree..no no, this tree was almost human seeming. She danced and sung in the coolness of the morning wind..she had a life energy that Thomas knew he had felt somewhere..sometime ago.

He felt such a deep connection to her that he spent everyday for the next 20 some odd years of his life sitting beneath her talking and playing music for her while she danced and sang and spoke distant melodies directly to his heart and soul. He found love within her and she brought life again to his dying spirit. Noone knew or even wondered where he spent his weekend mornings and daily evenings after a hard days work. His secret was kept between him and this strange love he found years prior.

Thomas died in the summer of 1987, he was only 65 years old.They found him sleeping eternally beneath the willow tree. He had a look of peace upon his face which gave a sense of relief to the dedicated employee who had found him there after he had not shown for work the previous morning. He knew it was a painless death for his boss who had helped provide bread onto his table all those years. He grieved momentarily, then called the necessary people to inform them of their loss.

Mrs. Monroe put the house up for sale soon after his death to move to the city. She had his workers clear the rest of the grove and asked that they uproot the tree and plant it in front of the house in his memory. As they worked slowly and carefully removing the delicate willow tree they were reminded of years ago as they watched a lifeless man be reborn in her honour. And they passed a knowing smile to eachother. After the last step of removal one of the men noticed a stone peering through beneath where her roots had been. They dug deeper and soon the entire contents of a grave stone, small and plain shown through. It had carved by hand- it seemed- these words;

"My love eternally I've lost you today, but your spirit will never be a stranger and we will find oneanother again tomorrow" "My singer, my dancer and soulmate..Clarissa Donahue" (1833-1899)


[Edited on 11/4/03 by magestica]

No comment at all must mean "we don't want to hurt magesticas' feelings and tell her, her story bites"?!

I only thought of this driving home from work this AM, so I would agree there are better ways to write short stories. I have some in my collection, maybe I'll share one of them sometime..

Thanks to those who read it and I really don't mind constructive criticism.

It was good Mag. Flowed nicely and was a nice touching story. Was it based off somethign that happend to a Thomas guy?

~Well Magestica I read it and I enjoyed it so. I love short stories even though I don't write them. Good job with that and keep up the good work. I'm suprised nobody has posted regarding this wonderful peice of work.

I was very skeptical about writing here..I am very critical of my own writings myself! I'm glad you enjoyed it..maybe I'll go further with Mr. Monroe later..who knows

This was not based on a real person per say..however there is a deeper meaning to it that perhaps only I can see
Mags

Ah, me too am critical of my own works of writing thinking they are utter crap.

I'm working on a nice conspiracy short story right now taht I'll post here in a week after its done.

Well, you know my views of you as a writer.

I am still struggling with past lives. I look forward to learning more about Mr Monroe separately!



[Edited on 22-12-2003 by MaskedAvatar]

...fantastic story Mags...

...a lack of response is not always show of lack of effect your words have on people...sometimes the effect is such that words seem to escape people for a while...




Peace,
ALIEN