The Story of Frank

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is just a small story about the awkward choices we sometimes make. This is the story of Frank.

Submitted: May 08, 2009

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Submitted: May 08, 2009




Frank, lived a quite life. Of course his name really is not Frank but for the sake of his story, he preferred Frank over his real name, since the sound of two leaves gliding across the forest floor was hard to really write in English. Frank had been alive for over 150 years, old enough to see a vast forest spread out in front of him and before and. Old enough to watch his own young grow and die in his shadow. He remembered his friends and the long conversations they used to have from the mornings till late in the evening. Frank could also remember the days when he began to have other neighbors, he used to love the young man who would sit near where he lived and play his guitar. He could still hear the sweet sound playing through the forest mixing with the sound of the wind and the blowing leaves.

Frank watched as one by one his friends left to other places, mostly against their wills and some of them not caring enough to stay in the changing neighbor hood. Buildings popped up here and there and soon he was surrounded on all sides, with just his small patch of woods left at the edge of town. That was the day he could remember the man coming into the forest, with his spray can marking the trees around him and then even spraying him. Frank at the time thought it was quite rude that the young man vandalized not only his home, but him as well. He loved his home though and he was simply too old to be leaving at his age. The next day another man came back and began chopping down the trees around him with a chain saw. Frank wanted to leave that day, but 150 years of roots were too much to just pull up in one day to leave.

The man finished his work for the day and came back the next. Frank was the one standing where a small patch of trees once stood. The man in his bright orange hat fired his chainsaw up and began to walk towards him reving the motor, and lubricating the chain. Frank was scared, even at 150 years old, he knew he was too young to be dying. Lightning yes, wind, maybe, but not cleaved in two from his very core. Frank looked around for something to help him, anything would do even if it was a distraction. The man came closer as Frank noticed a dead branch in his bow, and he thought just then that it was just what he was looking for.

Carefully he shook his bow, trying to make his motions look like the wind on this calm day. The man stopped and looked up, confused by the motions in the branches. He stopped his chainsaw and looked up with his hand over his eyes, looking for, what Frank could only guess, a small animal springing around his branches. Seeing nothing, the man started the chainsaw back up and began to walk towards Frank again. Frank moved faster, trying desperately to send the branch to the ground. Then just as the man's chainsaw ripped into Frank's bark, the branch snapped as Frank straightened out in pain. The branch toppled awkwardly through his branches, shearing and coming to a point before finding home in the man's chest as he looked up to find the source of the noise. Blood sprayed over the ground, some of it finding home in the fresh gash in Frank's trunk. He could feel the man's blood drying and stopping the flow of his own sap. Shouts of other men came from the other side of the clearing, as they rushed over looking up and back down to the dead man pinned to the ground. Frank exhaled an oxygen filled breath as he relaxed watching the men leave.

For three weeks the men came back, and 6 more men met the ill fate of the first. Frank did not want to kill, and he had learned from the first man not to let them get close, but he did not want to die. Not until he was sure it was his time. People gathered around, and helicopters flew over head as word of Frank's deeds spread throughout the city. No one came again for two weeks, and then finally a man came with a large tank. He had seen tanks like this feeding flowers in people's lawns far in the distance and we rejoiced. Finally the people understood that he did not want to die, and they were treating him with respect. The man sprayed the liquid thick and smelling like sulfur across him, he wondered if this was one of those new fertilizers the young flowers were talking about these days.

Frank relaxed and let the liquid soak into him, sipping the odd tasting fluids. Then the man walked away spraying the liquid behind him as he walked away. Frank looked up for the first time, and noticed the crowd of people for the first time. Some holding their fists in anger and others holding signs saying things like, “Destroy the Cursed Tree” or “We demand revenge for our fallen family members”. Frank did not understand what was happening, why the people did not understand his side of things. How those men attacked him and tried to kill him. The it happened, he watched as the man lit a match and drop it into the pool of liquid in front of him. Cheers erupted from the crowd as a wave of burning heat engulfed Frank. He Shuttered and swayed, but the liquid had already soaked in, the thick diesel fuel burning him down to the core. He thought to himself as he felt his mind slipping, and his body dying out from the flames and the heat, “You know, the chainsaw might not been as bad.” Then the world went back.

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