As the legend goes, the old gnarled tree atop of Ebert's Hill comes alive before the eyes of one who chants the special incantation at midnight whenever a full moon shines above. I fell into possession of the incantation and ventured forth to see if the legend was true.
"Dominos Pizzos Deliveros," I intoned on that windswept night six years ago.
The jagged branches of the old gnarled tree began moving and transforming, taking the shape of a beautiful young maiden. The tree's roots lifted out of the ground and became feet, and the woman walked toward me.
"Thank you for my liberation," she said, "I pray your captivity will not be long." I felt my middle thickening, my arms twisting and freezing into place, and my feet sprouting and digging themselves deeply into the ground.
I've heard of "popping a woody," folks, but this is ridiculous!
If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? Don't worry: if it's me falling, you'll hear me screaming all across the internet even if your PC is turned off!
This is my weekly contribution to the Fabulous Friday Fictioneers, and yep, I'm well over the 100 word limit at 146 words this week but I'm a tree, for goodness sake, so what the hell do you want? When you're ready to check out whether the other fictioneers put good wood on the ball, click the link above which also includes the special incantations that make up the ground rules here atop of Ebert's Hill, and yes, I did choose the name to honor the late film critic.
Think that you will never see a poem lovely as a tree? Take another look at me, and see you next Friday.