Adventures in Xenia: Pterodactyl Island

CHAPTER 3

The tree was ancient. Very ancient. You could see that straight away when you looked at it. Huge by any standard, the entire family had once tried to stretch themselves around the trunk. Hands locked together, they lay out their arms, stretching as far as possible and still could not complete the human chain around the trees' trunk.

Like a wizened old, bespectacled owl, even the trees' bark had a primordial, forlorn look. Scars, wild knots, and knotholes marred the tree's trunk as though it had been target-practice for delinquent children armed with the usual weapons; BB guns, bows and arrows, dull axes, pocket knives, hammers and small hand saws amongst them. A dozen hearts filled with the initials of long past lovers and bold cries of undying affection adorned its trunk.

Lightning had struck the tree many times, leaving long jagged scars. Super-heated lifeblood blew out of its skin in fantastic, mesmerizing explosions of color and light.

Nobody knew how old the tree was but Ty knew trees could live thousands of years. He thought this one must be at least that old. The Bristlecone Pine, he knew, could live for 5000 years! This was not a Bristlecone Pine nor a Redwood which he knew had a lifespan of 2000 years. Feeling a dark presence around the tree, he said "It's just a tree. A gnarly old tree."

But this was no ordinary tree. This tree, standing in this spot, growing, living, expanding for uncounted thousands of years was a very special tree indeed. Before constructing the family house, the building crew tried to remove the tree with chainsaws. But the saws broke. Try as they did, the tree stood. They tried again with chains and bulldozers but failed. The tree fought like a world-class boxer, withstanding blow after blow. After three days they gave up and moved the house location to its current spot, leaving the tree to some other unlucky crew.

The building crews' attempts at removing the tree accounted for many of the scars on its' trunk. The tree bled heavily as the crew attacked, every drop of bleeding sap draining its energy and life reserves. How it hurt through those days and nights. Every breeze, every change from day to night, from night to day was painful. Every drop of rain flowing into its wounds caused the tree to bend with pain. Every bird landing on a branch caused the tree to cry out, trembling in awful, unending misery.

It almost lost the war. So close to giving up and dying. It teetered on the edge. The tree just wanted the pain to stop. A few more attempts from the building crew and the tree would be dead. Cut up into firewood and burned or tossed into a heap, to lay rotting until nothing remained. But fortune smiled on this tree. It held fast. With its final breaths, it grasped at the dim, receding lights of life. Then it ended. The frustrated crew gave up before the tree. Now, healed and once again strong and mighty, the tree stood proud and swayed with every breeze, taking pleasure in every change of day and every raindrop washing its tough, leathery outer skin. The tree knew one day it would fall, but that day was not today and the tree would enjoy every moment until that cursed day arrived. Until that wretched day, the tree would stand proud. And, it would protect its secret. The secret it held inside for uncounted thousands of years. A secret that four young boys would soon expose. The tree did not know who chose it to protect the secret or why, but as the chosen protector, it lived to guard that secret as long as life flowed within it.

The tree smiled at the treehouse and the joyfulness of the young boys. As the summer moon rose, the tree sighed with the evening breeze and swayed softly with the rhythm of the wind. The wind rustled the trees leaves and a low, brief flash of light came from inside the treehouse.