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Rated: E · Fiction · Fantasy · #2277932
A spirit of nature becomes disconnected from their home and remembers is fallen kin.
Our roots once stretched far and wide through these lands, but now they barely reach beyond the stone that covers the ground. They made it this way, those strange tall creatures. Every day we can feel them all around us, moving and shuffling along their daily lives. They're blind to the magic of this once lush land. We still remember a time when they were young, just a small village.


Their children would come and lay in our shade and bask in the color of our being. In the falls they would watch as our leaves changed and were shed from us, making room for new life to prosper. Back then we could still feel our kin around us.


We stood tall, watching over the bramble, grove and brush. We gave of ourselves freely to feed the life around us, producing fruits and seeds. Even the smallest of us gave free and at first were rewarded.


Yet, with time came change, and from a village came a city. One which needed wood and stone to build. Many of our kin were felled to sustain them, and we watched it all. Through the falling of leaves and the passage of time.


One by one we watched them go as the skies filled with ashes from their bodies, and structures were hoisted up by their very frames. Now we are all that remains, trapped on all sides by stone and steel. Still not much has changed.


We are old now, far older than any of them. Through the spring we bloom and fruit and in the fall we shed our leaves as the children watch. We often wonder if they still see it too? That spark of magic which resided here long ago.


Trapped in their city so tall now it touched the clouds, do they still watch our Kin as their leaves fall, even though we can no longer feel them? Do our kin still exist outside of this city? Do they look on through the falling of leaves and the passage of time as we do still?
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