Thank you for reading and sharing my daily #Storygram short stories! Be sure to subscribe to the Newsletter and check out my film Portfolio!
The Story:
There was a certain tree that his childhood adventures weren’t allowed to extend beyond. Only the main branches attached to its trunk remained upright, while all the rest of its branches and twigs had fallen into a tall pile against its base. Some of the branches became tangled in their fall and draped over it from the top down like a sheet, giving the tree an unmistakable characteristic.
It was said that the tree had endured such a traumatic event that it had shed its own branches in its grief, just as a person might tear his own clothes. But no one had even a guess as to what could make a tree so sorrowful.
At his twenty-third birthday celebration, he raised a glass of wine in a toast to his parents.
“…always supported me. And I ask that they and all of you support me now, as I journey beyond the tree.”
The crowd let out a collective gasp and erupted in murmuring protest. His father rushed up to him.
“Son, you can’t do this!”
“I can’t stay in this village the rest of my life, father.”
“Listen to me! We live on the edge. There is nothing else. That path beyond the tree is… It only leads to the end of the world.”
“I know. And I have to see it. Father, imagine the mysteries at the end of the world!”
His father saw the determination in his son’s eyes and knew that no words could convince him to stay. Not even his words. The words that had taught him, shaped him, kept him safe.
“I cannot and will not give your journey my blessing,” his father said with welling eyes as he turned his back to his only son.
After a few days of packing and planning, he set off. The village leaders made it a nonevent, but as he reached the tree, he looked back toward the village for the last time. There on the hillside was his father to watch him take that first step of defiance. Turning his back to his father, he looked straight ahead and made his first step.
His father fell to the ground, weeping. So, no one saw the tree when it shed another branch.
Think this story should become a book or a short film? Let me know in the comments below!