A Talking Stump, a Thorn bush, and a Baby
The tale of a city split in two
Stella tripped through the tangle of weeds, the trees leaning toward her as if they were curious who this intruder was. The air sang as still as a sigh. The birds refrained from chirping. The leaves hung as if frozen in the air. Where was she? She’d never entered this part of the woods before. She didn’t even know it existed.
Stella scratched her head. How had she come here? She’d stumbled around in this forest all her life until each knoll in the tree had a name. But she couldn’t recognize anything.
The ground trembled beneath her slightly, but it was enough to skyrocket her heart rate. What was going on?
The leaves lifted off the ground before descending again. Then they burst off the dirt and swirled around Stella’s legs, up her thighs, her abdomen, her chest. She gasped and jumped forward, running, trying to escape. They engulfed her neck; soon they would reach her eyes. She squeezed her eyelids together.
Her foot tripped on a root and she fell forward, desperately grabbing. Nothing responded to her grip, not even the ground. She fell, fell, fell.
Until Stella hit the ground with a thump, bouncing once, twice, three times.
“I don’t believe it. They’ve finally sent me a visitor.”
Brushing the leaves out of her hair, Stella stumbled to her feet in a defensive position. Who would she meet?
“No need for that.” the voice murmured sadly. “You do not need to fear me. No one has for the past ten thousand years.”
Stella studied the land in front of her. Where was the speaker? She stood in a desert, slightly elevated. Thick smoke smothered the air. Piles of rocks crumbled in the distance. A choking desolation covered the landscape. A red line traveled through the hopeless picture. Nothing that could be talked to.
“Down here.”
Her gaze traveled down.
“You’re looking right at me.”
“What?” Stella giggled nervously. “Are you invisible or something?”
The voice sighed. “I’m the stump.”
“Ooh.” Stella’s eyes focused on the stump. It was the saddest stump that she had ever seen. Its face was crisscrossed with burn marks. Many pieces were missing, probably from the fire. What remained was crumbling in rot and mold.
The most striking thing about the stump though was that amidst the destruction and ugliness a small green shoot peaked out.
Stella staggered back in surprise. “You’re talking.”
“Everything talks. The problem is whether you’re listening or not. Whether you can understand the language.”
Stella lifted her chin. “Oh, good to know. Uhh, how did you get here?”
The stump sighed and a piece of wood fell away, crumbling into the ground. “I was born here and burnt here.”
“Okay…can you explain that further?”
“Are you sure that you want to hear this story?”
Stella rolled her eyes. This was the most exasperating stump that she had ever talked to. Most stumps let her sit on them and think. “No, of course not.”
“Then I shall be silent.”
Stella wanted to kick it. She probably would have if she hadn’t been worried about the stump falling apart. “Of course I want to hear it. I don’t have anything better to do. I’m kinda lost at the moment. Can you tell me how to leave this barren wilderness?”
“I’ll tell you when I finish my story.”
“Is it a long one?”
“Depends on your perspective.”
Her foot was beginning to lose respect for the stump’s fragility.
“I was born at a very young age. Someone planted me. Wait, wait–don’t kick me! I’m getting there. I just needed to establish the premises. I was not the only thing planted at the time though. There was also a city.”
“That city?” Stella pointed to the smoldering ruins.
“No…well yes. Kind of. It’s not what you think. Keep listening.”
“That’s all that I’ve been doing!”
“A couple planted me. They carried me from the nursery hundreds of miles away to this new home where they wanted to restart their life, cultivating a better one. They thought that growing a tree alongside their new life would be beautifully symbolic. And practical. In my prime I produced fruit that gave you all of your most essential vitamins, minerals, fiber, and amino acids.”
Stella’s lips quirked on the side of her face. “You sound like a health food advertisement.”
“Well, hear me out. I grew.”
“Obviously.”
“You’re just as annoying as you claim I am.” The stump turned a shade darker. “If we’re going to end this story while you’re still alive I suggest that you remain quiet.”
“You’re one to speak.”
“Exactly—I’m the one speaking right now. The first year was terrible. Half of the couple’s children died over the hard winter. As winter’s harsh teeth faded to the soothing tune of spring the wife died. They couldn’t build a house where they originally planned because a poisonous stone had decided to call that plot of land home. A wolf tore through half of their food supplies till they nearly starved.” He shook his head. “It was a mess. I almost died.”
Stella pinned her lips beneath her teeth to restrain her tongue from bursting with sharp retorts.
“But they survived, thanks to a bird that took a liking to my immature branches. The bird planted the family’s spring seeds because they were too weak. And since most of their seeds had gone rancid he also brought more seeds.” The stump trembled with mirth. “That harvest was a delight. We had no idea what was coming up. Autumn offered such delicious food.”
Stella almost imagined the stump licking his lips. “You can’t eat that stuff so why do you care?”
“They fertilized me with the compost from those plants. So there!”
Stella dug her fingernails into her skin, trying to remain silent. He was her only hope to escape this–this desolation.
“They tried to dry the seeds for the next planting season, but couldn’t save all of them. Oh, tis a shame. By the time harvest came around the remnant of the family was on their feet again. They endured some struggles after that, but surviving that bitter winter had ironed their nerves. Now they thought that they could survive anything.”
“And who were the members of this family?”
“I can’t give you names. They’ve long since faded from my memory. But the father, two girls, and three boys remained.”
Stella’s eyes widened. “You call that a remnant?”
“Respect, please.” The stump begged. “The loss of the rest of the family still holds a tender spot in my heart.”
Stella winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so crude.”
“The family lived one year, enjoying only the community of their immediate family. Then, however, a letter blew in with the wind. The oldest girl bloomed from a tender blossom to a vibrant flower, threatening to burn anyone who came too close to her happiness. Another family arrived within the month. A wedding soon followed, accompanied by a second house. A few years later, another cottage joined the ranks. The community grew. Every night, though, everyone gathered in the big house, or outside in the summer, and they would dance. The festive nose echoed throughout the land, shaking my roots. My base had grown to about sixteen inches around and—”
“I don’t want to hear anything about you! No offense.” Stella’s eyes gleamed. “What happened with the family?”
“They grew. The patriarch aged and died. A few more families came: some invited, some stumbling onto the place. A rift, however, grew between the two brothers. Over land disputes, a lady, livestock, who should inherit the Big House. It catapulted into a mess. Do you see the line zigzagging through the city?”
Stella pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Uhh, maybe.”
“You can’t miss it. It’s fiery red and burnt deep into the ground.”
“Oh, yes.” Her eyes widened. “How did that happen?”
The clan divided into two sides based on which brother they supported and moved to opposite sides of the settlement. Dust piled on the boundary since no one walked across. Soon it became popular for the younger boys to take green twigs and burn them on the boundary. Both sides did it. That red line burnt deeper and deeper into the ground.”
“It looks like it is bleeding.”
“Exactly.” The stump crumbled, almost like his face fell. “Their cultures began to look very different. Both had a Big House that most people went to every night, but the dances never had the same energy and vigor as before. On one side, the culture became more industrialized and urban. It didn’t really matter who you were, who your family was—it was who you made yourself into. The population evolved into several cities until they begrudgingly began trading with the left side so they could eat.
“The left side was more of a farming community, much more about manners, customs, and family origin. Tension increased over land disputes. As both sides explored further, each bent the dividing line in their favor.” The stump crunched his face together. “As an unbiased subject, I could have swiftly solved their problem. But to my great dismay and the misfortune of everyone, no one asked me my opinion. You’re the first one and you think you have to so that you can leave.”
“I think? What do you mean?”
“Nothing, nevermind. Sheesh. Anyway, within the disputed land a war erupted and tore apart the country—”
“Is that what caused the ruins?”
The stump shook his head. “Something else caused that massive destruction. If you look closely, you can see deep scars that line the walls on both sides. That is what remains. The children saw what the other side was like after hearing their parents harp on it all their lives. For some this evoked rage and hatred which tore apart the land. Others, however, fell in love with the women and the land on the other side. What were they supposed to do? They fought even harder in the hopes that this war would end soon. All’s fair in love and war; this war was most deadly because it involved both.”
“How did it end?” Stella gasped.
“Each brought the other side to their knees and took great pride in that, unable to see that they too were begging for mercy. One day, neither could fight and each said the other had lost. In a sense no one remained to fight. Those still living had to grow food, clean, cook, work! Not just run around in the field all day. Half of the people had died. The guilt weighed heavily on the next generation. Their lives had changed drastically. Yet they didn’t take this opportunity for forgiveness; no, they blamed the other side for the destruction.”
“What happened to the disputed territory?”
“That became no man’s land until the soldiers on either side got tired and returned home. It grew over into thorns until it became what it is today: a briar of weeds. Strangely, a healthy crop of lilies grows there to this day. No one would touch it. Lips remained silent over its existence.”
Stella happened. “But what happened to the people? I can see the destruction, but what about the people?”
“They rebuilt. It became two glorious shining cities, bustling with wealth and productivity not seen anywhere else even before the war. The families surprised even themselves. The unwary visitor often thought that they had lost themselves in a dream, surrounded by gold and life. But that thorn patch continued to fester and no one would do anything about it. Deep within the wealth though, the next generation found themselves deeply discontent. They gave up on accumulating money and turned to perverse desires. Where your mind is going, they did it I can tell you. It was an ugly picture; the gold tarnished with astonishing speed. Yet they found fleeting satisfaction in their lust and gluttony. The opposite sides found connection over sin and ignored the smoldering red line.”
“What?” Stella ran her hand along the stump. It sent burns through her hand.
“The red line that still divided the cities, though the people hopped over them now, began to roil. With each hop I could feel growing intensity, growing pressure. Something would give way soon and it would not be pretty.”
“What did you do?”
“What did I do?” The stump chortled. “Girl, I’m a stump. I can’t move; I can’t do anything.”
“You’re talking to me. I’d call that something.”
The stump frowned. “The ones who came close enough to hear me were those seeking peace from chaos itself. They didn’t need to listen.”
“You could have at least told them that they had an ally. They might have liked to have known you were there to listen to them.”
“They did know. And I fed them plenty of nourishing fruit. Anyway, as more and more children visited my boughs, the situation worsened. I began sleeping in the day and waking in the night, because the day was too dark and evil. Everyone did what was right in their own eyes. The red line positively trembled with rage. It began talking; no one would listen except me.”
“What did it say?”
“That it was going to destroy the city.”
“Well there.” Stella stamped her foot. “There is something that you could have told the children under your boughs.”
“They wouldn’t have listened.” The stump mumbled.
“You didn’t try!”
“Hey, do you have it out for me or something? I’m the only way you’re getting out of here so—”
“Fine, fine, continue with the story. But if it is going to be more of complaining about how bad everyone is while you yourself did nothing then I might just plug my ears and stamp you into ash.”
The stump gulped. “Then you wouldn’t—”
“I’m just about past caring. Now continue.”
“Then one day two men, the eldest of the youngest generation of each of the families fought over a woman. They both wanted her; they had both had her at one time. Back and forth over the line they dragged her as she screamed senseless in their arms, getting burned in the fire. No one came forth to help her. The red line tried to dampen its heat, but it could not do it soon enough. She died of burns, the men still pulling her back and forth. The earth began to tremble. My roots flinched; the ground grew hot as if it were on fire. The city stilled in the silence of panic.”
Stella leaned forward, desperate to hear the next event in the saga. “Well? What happened?”
The stump paled. “I-I, it’s hard to talk about. This town had such a special place in my heart. And my leaves, my fruit, my beautiful trunk.” It broke into sobs, muddy water flowing from its cracks.
Stella clenched her fists, telling herself to hold it together. “Okay, okay. I’m really sorry that you lost so much, but if you don’t finish telling this story you will lose much more.”
The stump stiffened. “The crack opened its mouth and swallowed those nearest it. Then it spit forth fire, flame after flame, burning the town until not a soul remained. It came for me. I heard a whispering voice: “you were supposed to protect, to teach. You failed. So shall you burn.”
“Then it consumed me. My perfectly formed torso, my leaves, my roots. All died. When I began to black out though, the fire dampened. It retreated with sneer. There, I’ll leave you with your ugly soul and let you watch the town that you took such pride in, yet abandoned to the grave.”
“The fire slunk back to its fiery hole. For days I could barely think because of the pain, the shame, the loss. The land groaned with me. We’ve been burning since then.”
“When did this happen?” Stella gasped.
“Days, months, years ago.” The stump shrugged. “I have no idea. Oh, you should have seen me in my pride. I’m almost ashamed to let you see me.”
“You haven’t been ashamed of your voice though.”
“That is the only thing I have left that I’m proud of.”
Stella gave him a dry look. “I’m glad to hear it.”
She was tired of the stump. “Nice talking to you; I’m going to explore the town.”
“Wait, but…oh.”
Stella tilted her head. “What?”
“I’ve loved talking to you. The days are so lonely, the nights so dark. But with you the time has flown by.”
Stella melted. Something about that crusty old stump… “I’ll be back. I just want to look around. You’ll be able to see me for most of it.”
The stump nodded and sniffed.
Stella gave him a parting smile and ran down the hill into the two cities. Smoke engulfed her the lower she sank. Her lungs tightened until Stella began to cough. The skeletons of buildings still held an air of elegance that they probably gleamed with before.
“This must have been a beautiful place to live” Stella gasped.
She found signs of human life: charred dolls, melted cars, the frame of an umbrella. Yet not a single human body remained.
A baby’s cry pierced the air. Stella froze. Her heart began pounding. Was she hearing things—
There it was again: the hoarse cry of one long forgotten who is barely hanging onto the rope of life.
“Wait!” Stella cried. “I’m coming. Wait for me. Hush baby. No wait, actually keep crying. Cry baby cry! I’m coming.”
A lusty cry of hope pierced the smog and guided Stella. Down allies, up hills, over a mess of what once had been.
Right to the thorn bush. Within it grew an eerie family of lilies.
“Oh baby.” Stella peered into the bush. How was she supposed to free him from the thorn’s grasp?
She’d have to go in.
Steeling her nerves she flung herself toward the center of the thorn bush. Gritting her teeth, biting her tongue to keep from yelling, she blindly fumbled for the baby. Her hands met warm, gurgling flesh and she jumped back, baby in hand.
Screaming in pain, she opened her eyes. Her hands and arms were shredded, a massive wound running down her side, scratches crisscrossing her legs.
Yet she forgot all that.
In her hands lay a baby boy, his skin plump and white without a single scratch.
Stella’s laugh came out in gasping cries. “Who are you, cutey? How did you survive? It’s been years.”
He gurgled contentedly.
The thorn bush began to tremble. Stella stumbled backward, shielding the baby in her arms. With a massive explosion, the thorn bush blew into the air, shattering into dust that fell around Stella and the baby. The earth began to quake. Stella gritted her teeth. Would the ground ever stay still?
A massive crack split the air and the rift in the ground moved together with a crack. The burning red dulled to earthy tones.
Peace descended in the atmosphere. The town was whole again.
Stella grinned widely at the smiling baby cuddled in her arms. “I guess we’re the beginning of the next generation.” All thoughts of leaving had left her heart.
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