Date: Fri, 20 Nov 2015 22:33:56 -0500
From: David Mathenge <romantykeas@gmail.com>
Subject: A Memoriam Of Trees 10

A Memoriam Of Trees

I, Alexandre Savoie, alias Romantyke -- or David Mathenge -- claims
ownership to this story. Any names, characters and events indicia are
purely fictional.

Readers are to be reminded donations givaways are greatly thanked for.

This is part ten. It took several days for me to be free enough to write
the following part. I am currently abroad and have had a very hard time
keeping up with the fuseaux horaires. I apologise.

Enjoy.

May 1st 2009
Vallee de la Rouge
Quebec, Canada

In the following weeks, I would often ask myself every night once into bed
'how on earth have I been able not to get expelled after all these
rules-breakings?'

The tree memoriam recovery operation had started soon after Alice's
foalbirth commotion had died down. It had been dull work at first. Todd had
made sure the spare key was replaced safely into Catherine and Patrick's
master bedroom on the second floor's proprietor wing. The real one, the
working one, was in Todd's possession. He had refused to give it back to
me.

The weather had gone better and better with each day as April passed. The
first buds had bloomed and now the grass on the yard was no longer the
dried yellow one, but renewed with its spring emerald evergreen. A few
dandelion flowers had already bloomed here and there, and would soon be
overpopulating the yard.

Fieldwork had begun at last. All thirty WOOFERS were sent every day at dawn
to work on the crops, and then were back by sunset. The veggies and fruits
were almost all planted already. Harvest times were to take place only in
the end of June, usually after the month's full moon. The garlic was
already growing fast.

The vines climbing around the tree memoriam had also bloomed. Their buds
had begun to come out. Inside of the walls, the work had been dull at
first. For a peculiar thing, the place was always darkened by clouds, and
the whole place seemed brown and dead. Seeing the whole work only Todd and
I had to do, it was feeling as if it would take for ever. However, it
became clear that it was not as hard as we expected.

Todd had managed to get all of the mentally ill people to join us to
work. Ann, Zoe, Abraham, Jerome, Raphael, Martin, Sacha and Denis did not
need much convincing and it took a few tries for them to know and remember
the way up the trail to the mountain's foot, and on to the walls. With
greatly increased numbers, we managed to work with far more speed in
recovering the wounded garden. Soon after, the sun began to show inside the
walls, and with time, it kept shining on and on, even when rain was falling
outside the walls. It felt magic.

The whispers had taken our interests a lot and we spent most of the time
trying to discern what they said or meant. The place was peculiar, yet was
very interesting, and it became even more so interesting as work came on
and on, and it was no longer brown and dead, but evergreen, and brightly
coloured with all kinds of the flowers we planted. The flowers were not
exactly the same as the ones described on the seedling bags. They seemed
magic. Because they were illuminating themselves after sunset and glowed
with enough light to make the garden look like a chinese garden with
colourful lamps. On the day time, the flowers could sometimes be seen
moving, swaying, or could be heard humming or even singing. Birds came to
make their nests everywhere, and it eventually became an enchanting haven
for anyone wishing peace.

By the time may arrived, the work was complete, and the garden was restored
to what we could think was its previous glory. The flowers had bloomed very
fast for this time of the year, and it was always warm and comfortable to
just be there. Ann and Zoe stole sunchairs to bring in there and so we
could sit down and just relax.

Every evening, Todd was the last to leave the place, and would lock the
door and go down the hill, a cigarette dangling between his thick brown
lips and a trail of bluish smoke going behind him as he walked with his
hands in his pocket.

Alice was now fully grown, as if she was already six years old. At first,
Catherine had called Berthochi's tamers for the pegasus horse, but it
turned out that Alice did not love being tamed, nor even getting approached
by humans. She attacked those getting too much near her and if a gun was in
her eyeshot, she flew away for the rest of the day. The only person she
loved was myself. Every time she was seeing me, her eyes would shine a
bright perfectly sapphire blue and she would trot towards me to beg me for
a pet. The dogs, cats and geese of the farm all were always frightened of
her and would cry or scream with fear anytime she was too close. It felt
uncanny and very peculiar indeed.

The first day of May, Shelley, the matron of the farm, had organised a
little festival for the springtime day, and we had much fun relaxing in the
sunlight, having fresh drinks and good hamburgers made on the
barbecue. Patrick had even made smoked sausages with his smoking cellar,
and they were delicious. Todd managed to steal several by the time day was
over.

Todd lit himself a cigarette after he opened the door to the tree
memorium. Again, it felt as if the murmurs were glad to see us back. We
both stood near the entrance, looking around.

'Well, everything is done in here, right?' I said.

Todd did not answer, he was staring at the tree stump standing in the very
centre of the garden.

'This stump is not there for decoration.' He muttered. 'I can feel it.'

Todd's African blood was acting up in his instincts. I knew he was not
lying. I walked a bit towards the stump.

'What say I try to walk on it?' I asked him.

Todd took a very deep smoke inhale and just urged me on with his hand.

Looking back at the stump, I braced myself, and put my feet on it.

It felt as if I was no longer alive. My body sort of shriveled up and
blowed away, and I found myself standing in a kaleidoscope of
colours. Frightened, I could not move nor speak. Then a voice spoke.

'You! Who are you!'

In the space in front of me, a wooden face had materialised. It looked like
a tree face. The eyes were very deep.

'Speak!'

'My name is Maxime...'

The tree face glared.

'How did you manage to enter my herd? No mortals have managed to do it. Not
for over two hundreds of years! How? Speak, and be swift!'

'Well, I have recovered a memoriam of trees.'

'No mortal can enter inside the walls of the seven memoriams of trees
placed on Earth! They are barred pass even with the key! You lie!'

'No! I am not! I swear! I found a key, and I entered a tree memoriam. It's
the one near the Riviere Rouge!'

The tree face relaxed.

'You managed to enter that one? Indeed, this one was in the worst
condition, and it was about to die. So you claim you managed to recover its
health and now you can use the mystical powers of the trees?'

My head swam. I felt like I was having a dream.

'Mystical powers...?'

'Don't be a fool, human! One who walks inside a tree memoriam is pure of
heart and instantly inherit the powers it conveys. Very few mortals can
believe what these powers can be, or even believe they do exist.'

'Oh... right...'

'So... I reckon you entered here by using the tree stump? Every memoriam
has one. The ancients used those to communicate with me.'

'Who are you?'

'I was about to tell you. My name is Vinbieth. I am the master of all that
can grow. I only live here in this other dimension separated from the
Earth. I can grant any wish and convey any advice. I can also make time
travelling to the ones wishing to. I am no deity, nor what humans call
God. There is no God. And I am not a God. I am only a guardian with sacred
powers.'

'I see...'

The tree face scowled.

'Allow me to thank you for restoring this memoriam of trees. The six other
ones are still to be found, though. But I stray myself! Tell me, young one,
is there any wish you want me to grant?'

' No, sir...'

'Humble, are you? I can understand. If you ever want to come back, feel
free to step onto the stump and I will make sure you can communicate with
me.'

'WAIT!'

The face glared again.

'What is it?'

'Am I dreaming?'

'You aren't. You are totally awake and alive. Now, the time for ending the
conversation is over. I will send your soul back on Earth. May we meet
again. Fare thee well, young tree shepherd!'

To be continued...

Roma
Italy
Europe