Observer

The tree stares into a blank space of emptiness, torn apart by ashes of weaponry and war, scorched by raging fire and shriveled from frost, until life within flickered away into the ongoing darkness. A tree is a human, with millions of stories untold and seams of lies concealed, but firmly composed on the surface. It does not exhibit visible expression, yet it is the very observer of humanity’s evolution. 

A story of a tree begins from the land it first rooted, a place prospered with sprouting vegetation, - stemmed in glistening streams - with viridescent greens that embody the color of emeralds. Apart from the plains, two protuberant figures emerge from grains of revitalized soil, outlining leaves that seem to huddle like bodies of clouds, nourished from the showers of sunlight and flourished by a rivulet. 

As time grows, the two trees mature, spreading endless roots interwoven into the knitted soil, and tangled with each other in a benevolent manner like close companions holding hands. The boughs bloomed golden flakes and rained phoenix feathers, embellishing the unseen wind with a mixture of colored hues that kissed the cerulean sky. Perhaps it was the merriment and lively mood that altered the dull season, for harmonious cheers ring fluidly through the air, prompting the fruit of peace to ripen. The resplendent trees share a time of love and friendship, viewing the painted scenery that thrives with life, even when the trees’ trunks thicken and begin to carry jobs for nature. 

Soon, the once ocean sky became ill and pallid, evaporating from the pouring ink while trepid alarms deluged the expanse, stridently calling the trees that lay stiff in their home. Soldiers storm from all sides, bringing throes of pain that ripped through the hollow quiet and mangled the fruits of peace. Gunshots pierced through the combatants that belched the frigid snow with lakes of viscous blood. The stains stuck onto the frosted white like a sea blemished with death that stretches perceptually into the unknown dusk. 

The secluded tree watches, in the blasting hails and howling wind, it quivers violently, trying to seek comfort. But beside it stood a trunk—the trunk that was once a tree was callously severed by war. The trunk that once accompanied the tree for hundreds of years became lifeless and broken. Broken so that the unwanted war could be fulfilled. Yet, the tree continues to live on, even when it became the muted witness of a brutal crime and left those that it once embraced. The tree has changed, it has grown as the silent observer of humanity’s evolution, with millions of secrets untold.