Faulty Seed
Completed Short Story
In the center of a lush, prospering field, there is a wimpy aged oak tree. Its leaves are swirls of green and brown. It has been a long time since a bird built a home in its maze of branches. The trunk is gray and hairy. I assume its roots are too. Surrounding the field at all angles is dense forest that goes for miles. And here, one single dead tree.
“You’re pouting.”
“What? No, I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m thinking.”
“About what?”
“About this tree.”
The surrounding grass shines in the sun with daisies scattered throughout. It might be the most stunning field I’ve ever seen. It would be the most excellent spot in existence if it didn’t have an eyesore in the middle.
“Why are you pouting at a tree?”
“How old do you think it is?”
“I don’t know, I’m not an expert on trees.”
“I wonder when it was planted.”
Someone had a vision for this tree. They saw the beautiful field and planted a tree smack in the center, that has to be it. They never saw how terribly the plan was executed. They stained a flawless field.
“Why do you give a shit? It’s a tree. Can we move on?”
“Move on… to where?”
“I don’t know. I don’t care. Can we go home?”
“Home?”
“Walter, stop it, you’re scaring me.”
I used to believe this tree was born to fail. That it must have been a faulty seed. Its branches bend and twist unnaturally. From a distance it appears beautifully complex in nature. Up close it’s clear that it died long ago, and now it has molded over.
“I meant it as a question Claudia. Where is home to you?”
“Walt, what is this?”
“It’s just a question.”
“I don’t know.”
“Not here?”
“What, no, why the fuck would my home be… Walter, where are we?”
Beyond the miles of forest that surround the field at every angle there is civilization as we know it. To the north is a Chinese village in the year 1594. There is a bread maker holding his fresh bread up high so it fills the air with aroma. Thousands of people walk passed him and only one buys bread. A little girl with a coin she found at the bottom of a river.
“We are at the center of the universe, Claudia. Where everything begins and where everything ends.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I think you should touch the tree.”
“No, Walter, help, I don’t understand. I don’t remember how we got here. I don’t remember... anything.”
South of the field, through the thick forest, is New York City in the year 1935. A family is eating dinner on Christmas eve. The little girl is still hungry; she asks for more bread. ‘No more bread!’ her father yells as he slams his fist on the table. ‘grow the wheat yourself.’
“It’s okay, Claudia. Just touch the tree.”
“I’m scared.”
“Everyone’s scared. You’ll see.”
“Who… are you?”
“Walter. You already knew that.”
“I guess I did, didn’t I? But how? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before in my life.”
If I were to walk many miles east of the tree I would be in London, 2429. Over there, the little girl is still starving. She waits in line with thousands of others for her ration. It’s only half a loaf this time. At this rate, it’ll be a quarter within the month. She won’t last that long.
“I’m a guide. I’m trying to help you understand.”
“I want to understand.”
“Then touch the tree.”
As she finally places her hand on the fuzzy gray bark, she begins to see what I see. West of here is an unknown location before humans started keeping track of time. Magnificent wildlife roam the planet and the little girl is out of breath by the riverbed. She’s frightened and crying. Behind her, a grizzly bear prepares to strike. She imagines being devoured by it, those sharp teeth sinking into her shoulders and tearing her apart. There’s only one way out now, and it’s the river. She takes a dive and finds herself at the bottom, cold and dark. Her hand sinks into the wet dirt underneath her. She pulls out something small, round, and metal. A perfect circle with an unknown man imprinted on it.
“Do you understand now, Claudia?”
“I’m the girl…”
“In a way, yes.”
“She’s been through so much.”
“Indeed, she has.”
Claudia’s life on earth was always a struggle. She was born into a family with nothing to their name. She grew up with her parents and two brothers in a one room apartment. She got a job at a packaging facility that specializes in styrofoam. Like a machine, Claudia would pack styrofoam neatly into a cardboard box and then move onto the next one. She was paid minimum wage, and couldn’t afford to rent so she lived in her car. Sometimes the car would be parked outside the facility so it would be easy to get to work. Other times she would drive it up to the hills so she could watch the stars through the sunroof as she fell asleep. She was killed by a drunk driver at thirty nine years old.
“Where do I go now? Is there an afterlife? Is this the afterlife?”
“No, I’m afraid you’ll have to pick a direction.”
“What do you mean?”
“You can’t stay here. You have to choose a time and spot in the universe to call home.”
“But every option is terrible! I just saw them all when I touched your fucking tree.”
The unfortunate truth about this tree is that the entire world stems from its roots. Everything that has ever happened and everything that will ever happen is rooted and set by this tree. Every act of kindness and every act of evil came from this tree.
“You, Claudia, are currently the most powerful human being ever. Think about that. You can go anywhere, at any time. You have the freedom of every direction, and nothing stopping you.”
“Nothing stopping me? That’s rich. Anywhere I go, I will be hungry, and scared, and treated like garbage. You’re telling me I’m the most powerful human being ever because I have the freedom to walk in any direction. But freedom’s meaningless if that tree is still standing.”
In my thirty billion years of existence, I’ve never been this excited before. Someone finally shares my disdain for this blood stain on my favorite field.
“I agree with you Claudia. It is an ugly excuse for a tree.”
“Then let’s chop it down. Start over. Whole new field, whole new planes of existence.”
“Its roots would still be ingrained in the universe. I don’t think this tree can ever be fully destroyed.”
“Fine, then we plant a new one. One that overpowers all influence that this one has had. A more beautiful tree planted with love.”
“I’ve come to believe that this tree was planted with love. It was watered with hatred. If we planted a new tree, its roots would be entangled with the old one. It would slowly become just as poisoned as its predecessor.”
I watch Claudia frown at the harsh truths of the universe, just as I often do. She then elects to touch it one more time in an attempt to better understand.
“It’s all a cycle. I’m running in a hamster wheel.”
“Yes.”
“And whichever direction I go in, I’m still trapped in the roots of this fucking tree.”
“That is correct.”
“Can I truly choose any time and place in the universe to run on my wheel?”
“Yup.”
“The Wild West?”
“That way.”
I point her forty degrees northeast and watch her disappear into the forest. My attention once again is now exclusively on the field and the one single dead tree. The field would be so beautiful without it. Its leaves are swirls of green and brown. I hate that wimpy aged oak tree.