Nightstar perched like an eagle upon Time’s galactic form waiting for Daystar to depart. A two hundred years old tree stood witnessing the last rays of the sun, vowing to stand firm in Night’s dark presence. A flower bowed in veneration to God’s celestial creation. Everything hushed in submission for the Night had come.
The tree flinched as a cloud of bats crashed against him, startling him. He abhorred bats and everything of night’s kingdom. The nights were always lonely; he could never hear the songs or witness small fights. There was no hustle and bustle, no light just silence and stars in the dark sky witnessing his fear, never speaking, never moving. Night became worse with each minute, darkness darkened, silence increased and his fear heightened. Cold breeze whispered like a ghost in his ear and pale shadows played everywhere in his sight. How could he not be scared?
A scream in the dead of night made him choke his waters. Wood creaked and leaves fell as he tried in vain to move, to flee. Every sound made him shudder in fear. How he had passed seventy thousand nights before, he couldn’t recall but he could guess.
At last, the sun peeked from the horizon’s bosom enlightening everything with utmost fairness and he sighed with relief but stopped dead when he sensed his nakedness. It was still summer and he had already shed all his leaves. Stupid tree.
He soon forgot his loss when he looked around the vale and saw nothing. Absolutely nothing. No grass, no tree, no flower, no bird. Only an avid, long and dry, and he, a leafless tree. He would have screamed had he a voice.
Devoid of leaves, he dried up. Thirst overcame his shock. Heat sweltered his body in various places. Death seemed beautiful compared to this and Night seemed divine. For the first time, he felt the true form of darkness that which could not be seen, that which reigned even in daylight.
He wasn’t surprised to perceive the sun already setting, and out of habit he vowed again to stand firm against dark but this night was unlike any other he had experienced. No stars neither any sound nor bat. Absolute darkness was this, without a hint of light. He felt silence hover around him like a thick blanket. He couldn’t be fearless, he was wrong. Foolish tree.
Suddenly, and out of nowhere he could see, thousands of bats crashed into him like a spear, a million screams echoed in his mind but he felt nothing. Not that he felt no fear but fear held no importance at that moment, his attention was elsewhere, in the skies among the stars and he wondered, what these stars must feel like living day after day, for a million years, all alone.
That night, he understood that fear cannot be overwhelmed or extinguished; it must be accepted and ignored. When the sun came with its welcoming song, he saw himself again standing at his usual place among his kind…and with all his leaves. It was spring.
Photo Credit: Casey Montandon
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The Weaver (@theweavrs) March 24, 2016
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.