Talking Trees




Jack Crane needed to find some new places to cut down trees.
He had taken all the best, straight, winsome trees, which had been allotted to him from the forest.
He decided, on this warm sunny day, to travel further afield in search of new horizons.
After driving for an hour, Jack found a place overloaded wit first class winsome trees. Trees to make wonderful pieces of furniture.
He found a vacant area where he was able to park his truck.
Taking the axe from the back of the truck, Jack set off into the forest in search of the best trees.
While searching, he came across strange looking trees with funny shaped branches, and leaves. He'd never seen such trees in all his life of being a woodcutter. He circled the tree looking to see if it was good enough to cut down.
“I wonder if it is soft wood,” pondered Jack. If the timber was hard it wouldn't be of use for making furniture.
He took a sharpening stone from his pocket to smooth over the paper sharp blade to make sure he be able to tackle the trees in smart time.
Jack sized up the tree to see which way to fall it without doing too much damage to the other trees nearby. He checked the direction of the wind so not to be caught on the wrong side of the tree when it fell.
Trees were very tricky if you didn't know what you were doing. The tree might swing back to trap you leaving you no room to escape becoming crushed beneath the fallen tree.
He positioned himself in what he believed was the right place.
He took up his stance at the base of the tree.
He took a firm grip of the axe handle, then pulled it back to swing the first chop at the tree with all his might.
“Ouch. What do you think you are doing.”
In surprise, Jack swung around to see who had been hurt but there was no one in sight, so he prepared to swing again.
“Hold it, buddy. Stand away from me with the axe.”
Still, he couldn't see anyone. Not even in the branches of the tree were anyone to be found. Who had spoken to him.
Jack swung the axe again but the blade didn't reach the tree.
The axe was taken from his hands.
He was pushed to the ground. Jack sat up too stunned from the hard push. What was happening.
“I told you. But no. You didn't listen. You had to have another try.”
“Trees don't talk,” mumbled Jack. “Trees are inanimate objects. They don't feel pain.”
“How do you know. You've never been a tree. We get bored rooted to one place. Not be able to walk around. All we do is sway our branches, and rustle our leaves. Birds nest in our branches. We have to put up with all those small animals crawling over our bark. We can't even scratch when we have an itch. We are stuck out in all types of weather,” grumbled the tree. Letting out some of its frustration.
“What kind of tree are you,” asked Jack. “I've never seen any trees like these before.”
“I'm not a tree.”
“Not a tree. You look like a tree,” replied Jack, scratching his head.
“I was a woodcutter,” the tree complained. “Came in here to search for the perfect tree. I never left.”
“I don't believe you.” Jack laughed, thinking someone played a joke on him.
“This is not a laughing matter. I've been here for years. My family is probably wondering what happened to me.” Tear drops began to fall from the leaves of the tree. “I never watched my beautiful baby daughter grow into a woman. I miss my lovely wife.” The tear drops became heavier. The other trees had started to cry too.
Jack became more puzzled, and worried.
What had happened in this forest.
Who was powerful enough to do these terrible things.
“These other trees,” asked Jack. “Were they all woodcutters?”
“Ask them. They'll tell you the same tale.”
“Won't you, guys,” shouted the tree to the other trees.
They all mumbled their agreement. All of them missed their families. They wanted to go home. There had to be a way for them to return home to their life of people, not plants. After a lot of whispering the trees hatched a plan without explaining to Jack.
“Help. Help. Save us,” each pleaded. “There's a woodcutter in the forest.” They made such a racket they woke the Wicked Witch Bologna from her slumber. She came rushing through the forest to find what was wrong with the trees.
“What do you think you are doing,” yelled Bologna. “Leave my trees be.”
“Your trees,” inquired Jack. “They have been telling me a different tale.”
“They're big cry babies. Don't listen to them,” she cackled.
“The trees tell me they were once people,” Jack informed her. “Told me you turned them into trees because they were woodcutters. Is that true?”
“Well. They. Might be,” said Bologna, deciding to change the focus from herself. “Are you a woodcutter?”
“No,” replied Jack. “I was out walking and became lost.”
“What are you doing with an axe?” Bologna believed she had Jack cornered.
“Axe. You mean this thing.” He waved the axe around. “I wondered what it was. I found it a ways back. It seemed to want to bring me this way.”
“Then you aren't a woodcutter.” Suspicion shone from her beady eyes.
“Not me. No sir. Honest Indian,” blabbed Jack, wanting to convince Bologna he wasn't a woodcutter.
“Off you go then before I change my mind.”
“I don't know the way out of here,” complained Jack. “The axe brought me here. I will need someone to show me the way to go.”
She pointed to a tree with her wand. “It can show you the way out before I zap you into a tree. You will be here forever like the others.”
“But it is becoming dark. I'm scared of the dark,” complained Jack, pretending to be scared. “Can't you zap me out of here. I want to reach home to see my family.”
“Okay,” agreed Bologna. “Stand over there.”
“Can't I stand near this tree?”
“Hurry up,” yelled Bologna. “I need to be away from here. Two seconds is all you have.” Impatient, she began waving her wand around.
Jack stood where he wanted.
He grabbed hold of a lower branch of the nearest tree moments before there was a bright flash of light. By holding the branch of the nearest tree all the tree might be included in the magic spell to remove Jack from the forest.
They all dropped slowly from the sky to land in the middle of the road.
Once out of the forest the trees returned back to men, trees no longer. They heard Bologna wail when she realised she had been tricked. The woodcutters were released from her spell.
The next morning Jack found a golden axe trophy on his kitchen table with thanks from the good witch, who had turned herself into the axe Jack carried to be able to escape from the forest.



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