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Very short stories to read at the bus stop.

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Last tree

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The last tree in a 50 mile radius. He looked wistfully at the stunted juniper – not even a tree, really. Just an overgrown shrub. Surveying the barren surroundings, he thought about her.

“If you hadn’t gone.”

He shifted his weight and swung the rusted, home-made axe. His mantra started, almost of its own accord.

If only she hadn’t gone, the day would be brighter. If only she were here, the sun could break through the thick clouds of nuclear winter that blanketed the sky for two years. If only she’d come back, he could rest.

The undersized tree fell right on cue. They always fell at the same point in his muttered song. He rests; his job finally finished. He leaned on the axe like a crutch and stared across the plain. Contented, he watched the sun set. But his eyes kept scanning the landscape, moving across the far-off vista . There, at the base of the mountain; a patch of green. He started to walk.

Posted by miss_pretty_pants

15th Jul 2008, 22:06   | tags:,