Angela Raines Writing & More

Another Story Tree Story by Angela Raines The smell was what I noticed first, a combination of smoke and pine. Then I heard the cry. It sounded like a young child or lost kitten. Fearing the worst, my heart beating frantically, I rushed to the spot where I believed the sound originated. It seemed to be from our meeting place. Frantically looking around I saw no one. I saw no fire. There wasn't even a burnt piece of wood. Not willing to trust my own senses I started looking under rocks, dead brush, trash anything that could be hiding a beginnings or end of a fire. I scanned the horizon. I saw, heard and smelled nothing. Still I could feel the fear and dread. It seemed to over take my mind. I calmed myself. There was nothing I could see. The sense of dread I was feeling made no sense. I climbed up the rock face to get a better view from higher up. There were some steep areas, but the foot and hand holds were there. In my haste I scraped my hands and forearms, but

As I sat down at the base of the tree, I took a deep breath and prepared to hear what the tree had to say. I leaned back against the trunk and then I heard the trees voice in my head. “Since you reacted the way you did last time, I have decided to just tell you this story.” “They're your stories, I'm willing to hear them however you wish to share.” I heard the tree take a deep breath and then in a quiet voice started the story. “She always arrived from the East. When I first saw her she was so young. There was a spring in her step and a smile in her eyes. The tune she hummed was sad but fun. The sun created pearls in her hair which was the color of autumn leaves. Her curls bounced with each step.” As the tree spoke I could see a young girl, maybe three years old walking toward me. I knew it was what the tree was seeing and I silently thanked him for allowing a least part of what he saw come through to me. The trees voice continued. “The grass barely noticed her

"If you are ready I shall tell what I have seen and heard over the years.” the tree said. “I am ready.” I leaned back against the trunk and closed my eyes ready to hear what the tree had to say. The tree sighed and then I saw a woman in my mind. She was covered in armor with sword in hand. As I took this all in I heard her voice and the story of her dance with death. It had been a fierce three days of battle. The field was covered with corpses, their body parts strewn out over the field like the broken shards of pottery they resembled. I had managed to stay alive until this last day when victory was no longer ours. Now, it was time for my own dance with death. Were the old stories true? Did one Dance with Death to decide whether you would go or stay, where you would reside? I fervently hoped so as I drew my last labored breath. The first day of fighting we were victorious in every engagement. The young warriors were ecstatic. They celebrated, cheered and drank t