The Great Oak Tree

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
Short story from creative writing class. Inspired by "Ever So Sweet" by Early November.

Submitted: January 10, 2008

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Submitted: January 10, 2008

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It was near the end of autumn. The skies were full of lonely clouds parting along the blue sky, and just over the hill was a huge oak tree. The tree had just finished its last shedding of its orange and yellow leaves that danced through the winds. The tire swing lightly flowed through the breeze and on the other side of the tree were two small pillars of four tires each. The sky was slowly turning pink and peach. As the sun began to set into the horizon of the hill just over the tree, and on the top branch was Lover, parted from his reason for existing.
Lover stared off into the bright sunset as it was chased away by the stars for its slumber from this side of the world onto the next. Lost in its natural beauty, Lover could remember how things used to be. How it felt with her. The taste of another’s sweet lips compressed perfectly onto his, the missing puzzle piece. Her cherry rubbed face cupped in his hands like it was meant to be. The friction of hips as they rolled down the hill. The symphony of laughter and heavy breathing. The sneaking out all night, only to fall asleep on the tires leaning on the oak tree. There was no doubt that it was ever so sweet.
There were those early New Year’s nights, when the snow placed its blanket onto the ground. The air was dry and one inhale could freeze anyone’s lungs. No one would be out past sunset. But there they were. It was crazy but there they were. They would hold hands to the great oak tree and would brush off the snow from the tires and sit there for hours, wrapped in each other’s warmth. Their minds free of all worries, drowning into their laughter, or in a cliché they would drown staring into each other‘s eyes. Whether their hands were trembling because they were freezing on a 10-degree winter night, or the thought of maybe they finally found a friend in each other, it didn’t matter. Nothing ever did. Under this great oak tree, she named him Lover.
Time began to shed as the great oak tree regained its rich green color and birds caressed the air in beautiful songs. The wild flowers began to brighten up the meadows; where they took their adventures rolling down the hill. They would reminisce and talk about their cheesy memories held in moments of innocence when spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven were the greatest epic journeys. And then his fingertips would guide hers as they began to stroke on guitar strings and with every tremble of each string; their whispers and dreams were put to life in songs that could never die.  And when evening came, the oak tree would be full of starlight and mist would flow in the air as the lovers hid in the branches to watch the stars caress the sky. They would talk or sleep till the sun chased the stars away and reflect onto the morning dew, which softly reflected into their waking eyes.
Summer had ice cream dripping on converse shoes as they laugh and not once, no matter how much sweat dripped between their cheeks and neck, did they part. Their hands were glued together. They took small, yet large adventures through peak-a-boo’s behind the great oak tree. Eyes covered by lover’s hands, surprises of chocolates and moonlit waltzing around the oak tree. One night, when the summer rain poured, they would slowly become of apart of it.
She would dance in her white dress that she told him it was her “wedding” gown. Twirling till her skirt grew heavy with water and her hair just past her shoulders would drip in a grungy, beautiful to him. Love admired her as he tiptoed up from behind. She could feel his smile grew as he started breathing in her hair.  
“Will you meet me where we can start off new?” he whispered as he embraced her close to him and his hands pressed lightly around, exploring the curves he couldn’t help but adore.
She started a symphony of giggles and happy sighs, and with every giggle, his smile grew. She turned her head and looked up to him.
“To watch the world from heights greater than this oak tree.” Her whole body turned toward him as her eyes never left his.
“Onto the stars.” he cupped her face as she turned facing him. Her face grew calm.
“I’ll wait for you there.” she whispered as he leaned toward her. The drops of water with a scent of the oak leaves landed over them. Hands wandering, hearts racing and Lover would get lost in her hair and then down her spine, caressing her soft, smooth skin as they faded away into the tall grass.
The September sky was captured in self-portraits on Polaroids of them. They would burry themselves in pillows of colorful leaves and watch each leaf slowly flow down to become their secret hide away. Wrapped in picnic blankets with food untouched, they played thoughtless card games of War.  And when the stars once again lit the sky and reflected lightly onto the half naked branches, they slowly glided their way back over the hills. They would look back to the sweet oak tree, his hand lightly squeezing her hand. The last of dandelion seeds would dance around them and her hair flowed with the breeze. He watched her smile while drowning in his hoodie for warmth and her dimples slowly forming onto her face, which slowly began to lose its color. She leaned her head onto his shoulder when she felt drowsy.
“I’ll fly away and return to you with the greatest blanket of stars a galaxy could offer.”
Lover put his arm around her. They slowly wandered through the tall grass. He looked down at her stained converses. His hand pulled her close as they dragged there feet.
“I live to let you shine” he whispered as his arms embraced her.
They would stay in the fields of tall grass and he would stroke guitar strings with melodies of songs from Gregory And The Hawk and The Early November. When he sang, she would fall asleep dreaming of their many adventures knowing one day, like them, she would only hope she was more than just a memory to Lover.
As Lover gazed upon the stars, he admired each star in the glistening midnight with a little smirk as if they all were eyes smiling back at him. He zipped up his hoodie she once wore. Slowly making down the path of branches, to the pillar of tires where he strummed his guitar in slow tempo, lullaby melodies, singing lyrics from sheet music that decorated his converses. And when the songs began to fade, watching the tall grass glide with the wind, he sat by what was left of her. Covered in flowers, ribbons and letters, he laid his sheet music by her tombstone.
“Wait for me like you promised.”
His bare feet sunk into the mud as he stood up. He dragged his feet away from her under the great oak tree.


© Copyright 2017 Gretti. All rights reserved.

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