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Thoughts of the Wood

Edward Turner III

    The wind was fluttering and its leaves were rattling in the breeze.
Branches were moving ever so slightly and the sun was almost at its peak. No smile came from the old tree, no outward emotion and no hope for movement. The tree simply sat as though there was nothing else it could ever want to do.
    There was one thing it could do though, it could think. The capacity for thought had come to it slowly over the years, but there was no denying it now.
    There was no denying the thoughts that overcame the old tree as it stood there. It could not see exactly, it could not hear, it could not feel the way that animals could. The sensing abilities it had were something altogether different, a sense of the cold, the light, everything that made the forest alive. In a way it could sense its surroundings better than anything else living.
    As time passed the tree realized that the world was an amazing and beautiful place. That is, the tree perceived the world this way until the pale beings came. They moved unlike anything else, they were without fur and they were without calmness. Never before had the tree seen anything of this kind.
    These beings destroyed everything that the forest was. They cut the trees down and destroyed the plants and animals that surrounded them. The tree saw these horrors and wished to put a stop to them. Years passes as the beings moved closer and closer and destroyed more of the place it called home.
    The tree never knew if it was truly the only one of its kind with thoughts. Perhaps it was, perhaps every other tree around it felt the same pain and hatred for these non-animals with the fire and their machines.
    How could it communicate? How could it warn others as its final days came?
    As the final thoughts moved through the trees, it wished it had been able to do more to save others of its kind. It wished it could have done something to warn the others.
    It should have done something to stop the beings which destroyed them all.

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