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This is a dystopia about an 8 year old girl, a wasted world, and a wish-giving maple tree. |
“Once upon a time,” the tree intoned, “there was a brave explorer. She was the best of them all, defeating all beasts and fear in her way. Including,” it tilted its tallest branches to lean over the tiny figure at its base, “the dark, the thunderstorms, and the green bushy vegetables.” “And that was scary!” A high voice piped up from among the tall, silky grass. “But she did it.” “She did,” the tree wiggled its trunk slightly so that the girl would feel the tremor through the ground, “She was brave.” The girl sighed, fiddling with her chestnut plaits on each side of her head. Her light eyes cheerily moved from one leaf to another as they fluttered above her. “Maple Tree, let’s go somewhere far, far away. Somewhere cold where survival is thin.” “One day, she cast her eyes to a tall mountain in the distance. Its snow-capped top charmed her, and lured her in for adventure.” She squealed, clutching the origami newspaper hat to her head. “Suddenly, while she was climbing its snowy cliffs,” the girl proceeded to clamber up Maple Tree’s gnarled trunk and onto a thick branch halfway up, “her footing gave away. The snow around her tumbled off their rocky perches. Avalanche!” As to follow the tree’s story, the girl drastically acted out the part. Clinging to the smoothed bark, she swung herself over the branch so that her arms gripped it fiercely while her legs dangled below. When she heard, “Avalanche,” she released her grip. In an instant, the roots of the tree sprung up from below, while its protective arms of the tree caught her in midair, slowing her descent into the roots. Continuing, it said, “Luckily, she landed on a soft snow bank and was unscathed. Later, she climbed to the top and back down to her town. They gave a parade and celebration, declaring her a hero.” The sweet cries of her laughter filled the air as she snugly wiggled among the leaves. “That was fun,” the girl declared, rolling over to jump to the ground. The roots and branches resumed their original position. A pillow of dandelion fluff billowed around her as she scampered to a grimy rucksack on the ground. One of the leather straps had worn off its sewed place, and the bottom sported holes with shabby patching. When put too close to her face, she could smell the scent of rotting milk. It was still the only memory from her missing parents and her secret hiding place of treasures. Her solemn eyes sparkled with glee. “Today, I went outside again.” Maple Tree grimaced. “There is nothing out there. Only rubble, ash, and trash. It’s dangerous to go outside. Why can’t you stay inside this dome? It will always be sunny with blue skies in here, and you will never get hurt as long as you are within my sight.” Just then, the picturesque screen flickered on and off, showering the two in darkness for many seconds. When it came back on, the colors were duller and not as steady. The girl lay on her back, her eyes closed. Only her mouth moved, “The dome is nothing but a copy of the past world. It’s only a room hidden underground that was protected from the disaster. But it’s breaking down. One day, it will turn off and never on again.” She opened her eyes again, patting the space around her for her bag. Opening it, she continued, “But it’s not so bad outside as it used to be. You can see dirt, like in here. There’s only a little bit of soot, in the cracks between the brick and wood piles. And,” she fished inside the bag, “I found another treasure. It was inside that large pile next to the doorway, the one that you called a junkyard.” A black glass orb was pulled out. It was oddly shaped, as if one side was stretched and capped in a silver metal with ridges in it. Scratching its surface, a pearly white was shown underneath. “I looked it up in the library. It’s a lightbulb! Do you know who Thomas Edison is? He’s a famous inventor. He’s actually a hero, you see. If you screw this into a lamp, it’ll give you el-ect-ric light!” Her eyelids lowered so that she was seemingly looking through her lashes. “I wish I was a real hero.” The tree stroke a wisp of hair out of her face. “May be you will. One day you will travel to places, meet people, and be people. Do you understand?” She shook her head. “But when will that happen? You never want me to go. I’m nine now, you know. I’m not the baby my parents left behind. I want to see an actual sky, with real suns and real moons.” The girl clutched her knees to her chest. “I can’t even see the skies when I go outside, and the disaster happened years ago. You said that one day it’ll clear up.” Then she sat up. “But what if I left? Maybe I can go beyond the dark and go to a place where I can see the stars.” The tree gave a sad sigh. “And then I might never see you again. I’m a tree. If I move my roots from this very place, I will die. I cannot follow you, my dear.” “But you’re Maple Tree! You can make wishes come true! My parents wished for me to be safe, and I already wished for you to be able to play with me! Can’t you grant your own wishes, Maple Tree?” The girl now hugged the wide trunk as best as she could, her arms barely bending at the elbows. “I already have. I wished to be able to grant other people’s happiness. Only one wish per person is given, and mine was for others.” The tree bent over to hug her back. She became silent, feeling the artificial breeze combing through her bangs and the hidden heat lamps giving her the same feel ordinary sunlight would. Then her head nodded to her shoulder and she toppled to her side. Maple Tree laughed softly, pain dripping through every chuckle. She loved this child like her very own. Yet this child was growing up so quickly. Human years goes by so rapidly, while in tree years no time went by at all. Was it only nine years? That was too young. Maybe when she’s a bit older, in her double digits and much more prepared. A blanket was lowered from its branches, covering the tiny body. The gears in the dome whirred to a silence, blue skies now becoming darker with recorded cricket chirping filling the space. The tree remembered a time like this. Once upon a time so many generations ago in the soft dirt as rain was sprinkled on top of it. What do you wish for? Its trunk groaned as it settled to watch the little girl. I wished for... And the room became utterly dark. |