The Life Tree Chapter 5
Follow me to continue reading FREE chapters!
Twitter: @nickmcgirrbooks
Facebook: @mcgirrink (McGirr, Ink)
Instagram: Nicholas McGirr
Pinterest: Nicholas A. McGirr
Goodreads: Nicholas A. McGirr
Comments below are always welcome!
Giveaways for all my work are happening here on Goodreads right now! Ends February 28th.
Chapter 5
I do everything I can think of to move my arms, only they are deadlocked into position. Though I can move my head around, I find that the pain of the stiffness in my ankles has now returned and I must look absolutely ridiculous with my arms straight up in the air and my legs unable to move.
I look around for the first time in this scenario as I was enthralled with a cigarette and coffee just moments literally before. It’s a ghost town, like something out of the old West and it’s all I can do but scream for help as I stand as if the sheriff has a gun to my back. This is becoming absurd. I left my cosmic cloud form to enter this daydream only to find the firm death-grip on my ankles here as well. My body begins to sweat from the strain it is going through and, well, sweat is itchy as it pours down your face.
Panic time as I look frantically around. Old wooden buildings with low flat porches and the clichéd tumbleweed goes by showing no signs of intelligent life anywhere. I wish I had a cigarette drooping from my lip now; at least I would be ready for execution. The sun is high and beats down on me hard causing the sweating to become worse. I honestly don’t know which is worse, the sweat beading down my face or the imaginary stretcher forcing me to get taller.
I shut my eyes hoping that I can enter back into the deathly cosmos of confusion. The only proof I know it works is that I can no longer see anything. The firm stiffness of my outstretched body in the Wild West scene is still there. Great, the uncomfortable feelings are now passing over with me. Why couldn’t the ocean pass back and forth with me as I enjoyed the waves crashing against my feet? This is some kind of cruel and unjust punishment.
Were there small delicate sins in my life that caused this punishment? I wish I could remember all the things I said in life, good, bad, and indifferent. Perhaps previous conversations would shed some light on this abyss of nothingness.
I find that I still cannot speak, or hear anything. At least I don’t think I can hear anything since there is nothing audible to hear in this place. At least since the voice I heard in what seems to be years ago now. If nothing else, there was desperate hope in that voice.
Back at the tree of life where my limbs are mobile. The breeze is strong causing noise to whistle through the tree, making the leaves rustle against each other bringing back memories of peace from childhood. The breeze is strong as I said and the goose bumps on my arms raise the hairs to move with the wind. Only this was no simple chill running through my body. I could feel energy being pulled from me as the wind enveloped me.
This force caused me to go cross-eyed for a moment and ended with a sensation of needing to pass out. I collapsed to the ground at the base of the tree slamming my palms into the soft earth. The wind comes again pulling energy from me and lands me completely on the ground. I wish I could express this stealing of energy, but my insides feel as though they were being pulled on and snapping back into place like a taut rubber band. A cartoon character catastrophe if I were to ever feel like one. I longed for that cup of coffee to warm these bones and the jacket from the bistro lunch table to block the winds.
I’m unable to move as my body is drained from the nature around me. I’m a brick in the dirt at this point, emotionless, weary, and dead. I cannot even pick up my head to begin the process of standing up. To my surprise, my head landed so that I may face the tree and I laid there in the grass watching the tree stand strong against the wind. Not one branch twisted or bent to appease the wind. The leaves blew off slowly sending life to other beings, but the trunk and the outstretched branches remained steadfast as the roots kept the great tree in place.
Opposites we were, the tree and I. Me, with my face to the ground while the tree stood there mocking me, egging me on to get up and face the winds, to feel the strength of the winds taking my energy and life only to take it to something else so that it may live longer, feel stronger and to become something better. The wind needed me, a dead being to bring life to something else. I felt as though the tree wanted my companionship, someone or something to pass the time with as it produced and gave life to other creatures of Mother Nature.
Back in the cosmos, my arms still stiff, but I could feel them bending on their own. My ankles still sore, only I felt more than two. I felt as if I had a thousand legs, all of them being held down to the worst degree. This is probably the result of swelling that is occurring from the pain of the stiffness. And although I am dead, this is the reasoning I come up with because it comes natural to me to think like a human.
Human, what about me exactly is human when I am in a cosmic state such as this? I feel the stiffness, a human sense, I feel my arm muscles tensing up and shaking for holding them, another human sense, yet I have no other senses such as sight, taste, or hearing unless I escape into my own mind. What exactly is happening here?
Leave comments below. How else am I supposed to grow as a writer if you don't tell me how I'm doing?
Twitter: @nickmcgirrbooks
Facebook: @mcgirrink (McGirr, Ink)
Instagram: Nicholas McGirr
Pinterest: Nicholas A. McGirr
Goodreads: Nicholas A. McGirr
Twitter: @nickmcgirrbooks
Facebook: @mcgirrink (McGirr, Ink)
Instagram: Nicholas McGirr
Pinterest: Nicholas A. McGirr
Goodreads: Nicholas A. McGirr
Comments below are always welcome!
Giveaways for all my work are happening here on Goodreads right now! Ends February 28th.
Chapter 5
I do everything I can think of to move my arms, only they are deadlocked into position. Though I can move my head around, I find that the pain of the stiffness in my ankles has now returned and I must look absolutely ridiculous with my arms straight up in the air and my legs unable to move.
I look around for the first time in this scenario as I was enthralled with a cigarette and coffee just moments literally before. It’s a ghost town, like something out of the old West and it’s all I can do but scream for help as I stand as if the sheriff has a gun to my back. This is becoming absurd. I left my cosmic cloud form to enter this daydream only to find the firm death-grip on my ankles here as well. My body begins to sweat from the strain it is going through and, well, sweat is itchy as it pours down your face.
Panic time as I look frantically around. Old wooden buildings with low flat porches and the clichéd tumbleweed goes by showing no signs of intelligent life anywhere. I wish I had a cigarette drooping from my lip now; at least I would be ready for execution. The sun is high and beats down on me hard causing the sweating to become worse. I honestly don’t know which is worse, the sweat beading down my face or the imaginary stretcher forcing me to get taller.
I shut my eyes hoping that I can enter back into the deathly cosmos of confusion. The only proof I know it works is that I can no longer see anything. The firm stiffness of my outstretched body in the Wild West scene is still there. Great, the uncomfortable feelings are now passing over with me. Why couldn’t the ocean pass back and forth with me as I enjoyed the waves crashing against my feet? This is some kind of cruel and unjust punishment.
Were there small delicate sins in my life that caused this punishment? I wish I could remember all the things I said in life, good, bad, and indifferent. Perhaps previous conversations would shed some light on this abyss of nothingness.
I find that I still cannot speak, or hear anything. At least I don’t think I can hear anything since there is nothing audible to hear in this place. At least since the voice I heard in what seems to be years ago now. If nothing else, there was desperate hope in that voice.
Back at the tree of life where my limbs are mobile. The breeze is strong causing noise to whistle through the tree, making the leaves rustle against each other bringing back memories of peace from childhood. The breeze is strong as I said and the goose bumps on my arms raise the hairs to move with the wind. Only this was no simple chill running through my body. I could feel energy being pulled from me as the wind enveloped me.
This force caused me to go cross-eyed for a moment and ended with a sensation of needing to pass out. I collapsed to the ground at the base of the tree slamming my palms into the soft earth. The wind comes again pulling energy from me and lands me completely on the ground. I wish I could express this stealing of energy, but my insides feel as though they were being pulled on and snapping back into place like a taut rubber band. A cartoon character catastrophe if I were to ever feel like one. I longed for that cup of coffee to warm these bones and the jacket from the bistro lunch table to block the winds.
I’m unable to move as my body is drained from the nature around me. I’m a brick in the dirt at this point, emotionless, weary, and dead. I cannot even pick up my head to begin the process of standing up. To my surprise, my head landed so that I may face the tree and I laid there in the grass watching the tree stand strong against the wind. Not one branch twisted or bent to appease the wind. The leaves blew off slowly sending life to other beings, but the trunk and the outstretched branches remained steadfast as the roots kept the great tree in place.
Opposites we were, the tree and I. Me, with my face to the ground while the tree stood there mocking me, egging me on to get up and face the winds, to feel the strength of the winds taking my energy and life only to take it to something else so that it may live longer, feel stronger and to become something better. The wind needed me, a dead being to bring life to something else. I felt as though the tree wanted my companionship, someone or something to pass the time with as it produced and gave life to other creatures of Mother Nature.
Back in the cosmos, my arms still stiff, but I could feel them bending on their own. My ankles still sore, only I felt more than two. I felt as if I had a thousand legs, all of them being held down to the worst degree. This is probably the result of swelling that is occurring from the pain of the stiffness. And although I am dead, this is the reasoning I come up with because it comes natural to me to think like a human.
Human, what about me exactly is human when I am in a cosmic state such as this? I feel the stiffness, a human sense, I feel my arm muscles tensing up and shaking for holding them, another human sense, yet I have no other senses such as sight, taste, or hearing unless I escape into my own mind. What exactly is happening here?
Leave comments below. How else am I supposed to grow as a writer if you don't tell me how I'm doing?
Twitter: @nickmcgirrbooks
Facebook: @mcgirrink (McGirr, Ink)
Instagram: Nicholas McGirr
Pinterest: Nicholas A. McGirr
Goodreads: Nicholas A. McGirr
No comments have been added yet.
