#FridayFlash – The Hanging Tree

Image by Erikwkolstad

I stand at the edge of the forest, two of my branches extending over the still depths of the lake. Blue sky arcs above me, and birds fly overhead, dipping and wheeling in clear mountain air. I stand in a most picturesque spot – indeed, what better place could there be to send people to their final end?

It is beautiful, to be sure, but when a storm rolls in and the wind gathers strength, I fancy I can hear the creak of rope against my limbs. I feel the weight of the condemned swinging with every gust and spectral eyes glitter in the gathering gloom.

I have an odd sympathy for the dead. In essence, I am one of them. My leaves fell long ago and I could not muster the heart to grow new ones. My bark withered and died, encasing me in a shroud of hard wood. Humans exposed me to so much death that it became infectious.

Yet I am not truly dead. I still exist in a liminal state, nourished by the lives of those lost in my branches. I did not mean to, but I consumed 426 souls during my tenure as the Hanging Tree. Where else were the souls to go, but into my open and welcoming heart? Still, they cannot sustain me forever, as I absorb them one by one.

I only fear what will happen when the final soul is entirely snuffed out.