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The Story:

Playing in the woods behind their house was the boy’s favorite activity. At school he was a student, forced to solve math problems and memorize historical dates. At home he was a son, forced to study for school. But in the woods, he was free.

In the woods he could be a king, ordering his knights to cut down the rabble that spoke ill of his young reign. He could be a soldier, like his father, fighting for the freedom of his fellow countrymen, hiding in trenches and spying on the enemy. He could even be one of the animals—a fox or a bear, perhaps.

His father had cleared a fixed path for him to explore the woods.

“Don’t stray from this path, Nillen,” he told him.

But adventure called to him. The unknown was a far greater tempter than a jar of his grandmother’s chocolate chip cookies, and he could no longer resist. He stepped off the path.

That day was a quiet day. There wasn’t any wind, and it was neither hot nor cold. The even more silent place he ventured into seemed jealous of the living. As the woods grew thicker and darker, he was beginning to stiffen with fear.

He decided to turn back, but as he did, something hard and scratchy grabbed him and pulled him into a tight clutch. He struggled but to no avail.

“What is it like to be alive?”

The low, raspy voice sounded close, but he saw no one. Looking around, he realized he was ensnared by a tangle of enormous thorns and wiry limbs. The voice must have come from the tree.

“Are… Are you alive?”
“Why? Because I can talk? Because I can crush you?”

The tree sounded angry as it squeezed him tighter.

“Ow! Stop it! You’re hurting me!”
“Hurt?”
“Yes, hurt! Ever felt hurt before?”

He punched at the tree’s limbs.

“I feel nothing.”
“How can you be alive and not feel?”

After a moment of silence, the tree dropped him and extended a thorny branch to him.

“Help me to feel.”

Nillen wasn’t much for needles, but he couldn’t imagine not feeling at all. So, he reached up and pricked his finger on a thorn. A drop of blood rolled down the wooden spear and was absorbed by the branch.

“Yes, pain… This is life.”

 

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