The Secret Of The Trees

Great are the temples which stand through the ages—crafted by the mightiest of kings to endure the winds of time.

I wended my way up the mountain, crunching through the leaves with every step. Mist wisped around me, tickling the back of my neck and saturating my collar with dampness.

Trees sprung up the craggy cliffside and, like the ocean, stretched out as far as the eye could see, scaling up into the mountain, painting it with a cascade of orange, red, and yellow.

The roots of these trees ran deep, penetrating the stony face of the mountain. Some clung so desperately for life that they grew sidewise up the ledges.

Perhaps, I had stumbled on something much greater, that which time would bury, that which the forest had consumed. What little remains is obscured by blankets of mist. 

A thicket of branches snagged at my jacket. Every step here was a calculated move, bending beneath the tree limbs, twisting over roots.

The forest was working against me, yanking at me. As I continued, there was no path further except through a barrier of thorny branches.

I looked for any route around them, but nothing could be found, so I plunged straight through it, and the forest lashed out against me, tearing my clothes and skin.

I emerged like a charging bull, though my shirt was now ragged and my body covered in blood.

After collecting my senses, my eyes widened. It seemed I might not be alone. Standing above the highest trees was a lone wooden tower. It had but one window, and the humble roof was aged and warped. A dingy staircase wound up the base of the tower. The steps were unevenly placed. 

I dared not scale those stairs, but I approached the tower, trying to reason who would have built such a thing. 

"Can I help you?" A gruff voice called. 

Something about his voice sent a shiver down my spine. It wasn’t a frightening voice but was, in an odd way, familiar.

I turned around to see an old man emerge from behind a sturdy oak tree. 

They say eyes are the windows to the soul, and as I stared at this man, I couldn't help but shudder. It wasn't his scarred face, his missing lower lip, or even the empty left space where his eye should have been. But something much deeper than words can explain.

"Who are you?"I mumbled. 

The man didn't say anything; he just looked deep into my eyes.

"Daniel?"

My eyes bulged. How did this man know my name? I took a step forward and opened my mouth, trying to think of how to respond, but before I could utter any word, the man wound up the tower's steps. Lost for a second, I just stood there blankly but soon trailed behind him. Though I did not climb with such ease, worrying the staircase would give out.

Finally, I found myself in some musky dwelling. There wasn’t even as much as a stool, only one rusty kettle and a wooden bowl, which collected droplets of water that dripped down from the roof every now and again.

The old man stood in front of the tower’s only window, staring intently below.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

The man just kept staring.

I made my way over, and he stepped aside, allowing me to see.

“You’re watching the forest?”

The old man shook his head. “I did not always have one eye.”

“How did you lose it?”

The old man mused.“Every question has a cost Daniel, and this was the price I paid.” 

“What did you buy?”

The old man pointed out to the horizon. “This forest has many secrets. Beneath its roots lies man. A mighty civilization once filled this land, and I, am the last to stand.” 

I shook my head. “No, these trees took many centuries to grow. There is no way any man could have lived here before them.”

The old man chuckled. “Men don’t see. They do not ask about the secret of the trees. Goodbye, then, Daniel. If you so desire, you may leave.”

I looked out the window again. Wondering how it was, he knew my name. It could have been a guess. But surely, he would have guessed something more common.

“Could you show me the secret of the trees?”

The old man paused for a second. “I cannot show the sunset, but if you choose, you may wait to see the dusk.”

Neither of us spoke much after that. I stood in the window for many hours, and slowly the trees peeled away.

A new vision sprouted of paved streets, stone monoliths, and a sea of men too great to comprehend. They danced to their music and etched their heroes and gods into stone. They traded with their coins and tilled the earth with their plows. 

And above them, all, rested their king on his throne, and he danced to their music, he traded with them for their goods, and feasted with them, in their mighty bounties.

But I saw a shadowed figure who did not delight so in the “trivialities” of the peasants. “Father mustn't waste away with such things.” He would say.

The king chuckled, “Oh, my son, if only you could see the things that I do.”

The king’s son’s words didn’t land on deaf ears. Many were they who agreed. Many of the King's most capable advisors and generals thought his Son would make a much greater master of the land.

And in the night, while the king lay sleeping, the son crept into his chambers and placed his hands upon his neck, squeezing out every ounce of life. 

Many of the people lamented the next day. Others rejoiced, declaring his son the rightful heir.

But the good people of the kingdom saw the treachery, and a great battle erupted. I watched as streets were painted in blood, houses were scorched to the earth, and temples were left desolate. The battle raged on for many centuries, every man fighting for his king.

But as the years passed, the good King was all but forgotten, and all men seemed to be the same, quenching their thirsts for pleasure with blood.

And then, I watched as the sun bloodied, as though it were wounded by the earth. And all the people of this great nation, sickened with wars, deranged by their lusts, charged out, consuming each other with fire until every single man, woman, and child was extinguished, leaving nothing but piles of their bones, ashes of their crops, and ruins of their temples. 

But as the night continued, their stone engravings eroded away; what stood of their remains were eaten up, and the ruins crumbled into dust.

Trees sprouted up around them, and their memories were all but forgotten, that is, except for one shoddy wooden tower, which stands as an emblem of their destruction to this day.

Once I had seen all the forest would show me, I turned back to the old man.

I was staring intently at his scarred countenance. 

The old man whispered, his voice once again sending a shiver down my spine. “Who are you?”

I cocked my head to the side. His voice once seemed so strange, and I wondered how he knew my name. But even as these visions were of the beginning, they were also of the end. This man, too, was a vision of the future. Knowing this, the man’s countenance was not so different than my own. Indeed, it was scarred and maimed. But, the only difference between this man and I was the passing of many days. And the great people I saw crumble are the ones I called my own. And so I must now go and warn of their passing, and great is the price I will pay.