Sorrowbloom - Part 4/Conclusion

Sorrowbloom

*continued from previous post*

Upon seeing the withering tree, with its bony, stooped form mocking his own; he felt the anger inside him grow and he sped up the hill towards it. He raised the axe high above his head, screaming his fury. “Infernal tree!” he wailed violently, bringing the axe to rest within the hull of its trunk: “I shall turn you to kindling and warm my heart by your burning remains!” He swung and cleaved at the tree in the hopes to strip its flesh and bring it to side, grunting and wailing with a fervour and intensity that can only come from a man truly caught in the grip of madness. How he hated this tree! He cursed blindly at it while he swung; pendulums of saliva swinging from his lips. He ranted reference to all it had cost him and how satisfying it will be to see it topple and burn. He puffed and panted, draining every last drop of effort from his strained limbs until he finally collapsed to the ground to chase his breath. He wildly chuckled to himself in leave of his senses, gazing up to admire his handiwork. As he did so, his eyes widened at their discovery.

The marks left by the axe were almost unrecognisable of their instrument, seeming as though a cat had taken to sharpening its claws upon the bark. Having gone so long depriving his stomach, his strength had left him and his blows held little force. He moaned in disbelief at his failure, cursing the very ground the tree sprouted from and tossing the axe feverishly to one side. He turned once more to the tree to confirm its integrity. It was then he noticed the markings upon its stone-grey bark: countless rows of short, thin notches - identical to the ones he had just made; dark in colour, having scabbed over with time. His heart sank as he realised that these were from those who had come before; who had walked the same path and reached the same outcome: being unable to destroy the tree that had tormented them so. How great was his sorrow. He hung his head in defeat and by the setting of the sun; he too had joined the ranks of those amongst the branches of Sorrowbloom.

He was not the first and I fear he shall not be the last. Such is the nature of Sorrowbloom. However hated it may be; the tree itself holds no malice. Verily, it is not a thing of evil, but of empathy. It had felt the sorrow of the two lovers hanging from its branches firsthand, withering in sympathy and bearing its tears as darkened fruit. And with every pitiable soul that joins its branches, its sorrow only grows; pulling it further into the very ground from which it first sprang.

And I - I sit here still. A man of eighty winters, though it seems so many more; recounting the tale as a warning in the hope that travellers will take heed and not further sorrow’s cause. And more so, to keep watch over my precious daughter Sophia and her beloved Reuben. It is my penance; my atonement for the sorrow that my foolishness has bore unto the world. Though I shall never eat of the fruit myself, it is meaningless, for my heart is already forfeit. How great is my sorrow. I can only continue my due and take solace in the hope that with the passing of my final winter, the debt will be repaid and Sorrowbloom shall shed no more tears.

Fin.




Well, there it is, hope you enjoyed it. I might post some more in the future - providing I find time in between classes. In the meantime; stay well: take stock of the good things in your life and try not to let sorrow or doubt stand in the way of your dreams. Seek out your own 'happily ever after'.

Dang. Can't think of a good ending phrase. Oh yeah, NOW I get writer's block....