Beneath The Bark

Life and Legacy of an Unseen Witness

• Fantasy
• Fiction
• Mystery
• Art

								
It was a hot summer day, the kind where you can almost smell the storm brewing. A perfect day to die. And with my last breath, I’ll tell you my story—with its happy ending.
Oh, please, don’t feel sorry for me. I’ve had a long, very long life. I’ve seen a lot... I’ve seen everything—birth and death, joy and sorrow, hate and love. I’ve even hated and loved myself, which might sound unreal to you, since I’m just an oak tree.
You might think being a tree, living a long, simple life, is a blessing. But in truth, it’s a curse. Well, maybe ‘curse’ is a too strong word. Let’s call it karma. I deserved this life. See, I wasn’t always a tree. In my previous life, I was a man. I lived in a small town by the river, making a living by fishing. I was a shadow of a man—never married, no children, no close friends, no achievements. My days blurred together with newspapers during the week and beers in the local bar on weekends. I never left my hometown, even when the river started to erode the shores, destroying houses. I stayed, and let it take me too, along with the remnants of my hollow life. That’s how I died the previouse time.
At the Great Court, the angels judged my deeds and decided I didn’t deserve either hell or paradise. I had wasted my human life, and they weren’t ready to give me another shot. So, they sent me back to Earth as a tree—rooted in one place, unable to move, speak, or act freely. Just like the way I lived before, confined by my own choices. A tree’s life is limited in many ways, just like mine was. Perhaps they thought it fitting that I experience existence in a form where I’d have to endure without movement or purpose until I learned the value of life through stillness. I was still lucky—they could have made me a stone. At least a tree’s life cycle is shorter. So here I am, an oak tree.
For nearly 300 years, I’ve stood on this hill, watching people settle and expand their town. For some reason, they never cut me down. Instead, they built a park around me. Life passed by simply at first, but then something changed. Feelings—ones I had never known—began to stir inside me. I became jealous. I envied the birds who sang their stories, the clouds that drifted beyond my branches to places I would never see. But most of all, I envied the people, for being able to speak, to touch, to love.
I think it all started with the little boy who used to read fantastic books under my branches. I read them all too, and they stirred my imagination. Or maybe it was the cats who curled up at my roots dreaming some weird colourful realms. But I’m certain that my life got its brightness because of her—Kathleen. She often came to eat her lunch in my shadow.
Whenever Kathelin sat beneath my branches, she brought life with her. Her soft humming intertwined with the rustling leaves, creating a melody that danced in the air. Leaning against my trunk, her laughter felt like sunlight, spilling warmth into the park. She would leave crumbs from her lunch, inviting birds and butterflies to share in her presence. Each visit was a gift, and the way she lingered just a moment longer made my existence feel richer.
At first, I didn’t understand it, this feeling inside, this brightness whenever she was near. I found myself counting the seconds until she arrived. Her scent, her voice, her presence—it all captivated me. And then I realised—I had fallen in love. But what could I do? Every time, after her brief visit, she would leave, and I was rooted to the ground, unable to follow.
One day, she didn’t come alone. A man was with her. They shared their lunch, laughed, and in the end, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. My heart splintered. Over the next few visits, I saw them kiss under my branches. Then one day, I watched as he proposed to her right here on this hill. My heart broke. I hated him. If I could’ve fallen on him, I would have crushed him. But what would that accomplish? I couldn’t marry her, couldn’t give her children. I was just a tree.
Eventually, I came to accept my fate because, in the end, I loved Kathleen and wanted her to be happy. That man could give her what I never could. From my hill, I saw her radiant in her wedding gown, walking out of the church. I forgot my sorrow in the face of her joy. A year later, she became pregnant, and they began visiting the park even more often. I did my best to make their time here as peaceful as possible.
And then today, as the day wore on, I sensed a change in the air. The wind whispered urgently through my leaves, and the usual chorus of birds fell silent, their absence heavy with unease. My roots trembled in the damp soil, sensing a tension building, as if nature itself held its breath, waiting for the inevitable clash that loomed on the horizon.
All of a sudden the sky grew dark as night, and the rain poured down in torrents. The wind howled, and the lightning crackled like a predator hunting its prey. Streets emptied, and the last of the townsfolk hurried home in fear. That’s when I saw him—Kathleen’s husband—he step out of the small grocery shop near the park, where old Mrs. O’Leary, with her grey bun and sharp eyes, handed him a bag of those red apples that Kathelin loved so much. He took the shortcut through the park, and the storm targeted him.
I saw lightning strike, just missing him twice. He had no chance against the power of the nature. Suddenly, I realized this was my moment—my chance to do something meaningful. I could save him, save Kathleen’s husband, and ensure their child would know its father.
I waited until he was close, then, seeing the lightning ready to strike again, I stretched my branches as high as I could, catching its force before it could reach him. I succeeded, though it cost me my life.
But I have no regrets. My death freed me. I leave this world knowing my life finally had meaning. When I stand before the angels at the Great Court again, perhaps they will see fit to give me another chance as a human. And this time, I won’t waste it. I will live boldly—travel, explore, make friends, and maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll find love again.
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