One day, when i was a tree and you were a slug who was afraid of the rain…

It just came to me that i haven’t actually posted the actual story to my blog… i just keep mentioning it, and naturally you must be like what is she even talking about?! So…. HERE IT IS!

Enjoy…. and please let me know what you think of it (i REALLY want to know what people think of my writing skills, as i want to know whether to leave the writing to the pros and just use my own talents to add to those stories or to continue adding my own written stories into this world rather than just the glimpses grasped at in my art).



One day, when I was a tree and you were a slug who was afraid of the rain…


One day, when I was a tree; standing tall and alone at the edge of The Great Forest, and you were a giant grey slug, it began to rain. You slowly slimed your way up my thick trunk, carefully edging up to my branches, up to where the leaves would protect you from the dripping water that you feared so irrationally.

“Oh great and mighty tree,” you called out from the dense covering of leaves, “Please save me from the rain, allow me to shelter in your beautiful curved branches.”

I didn’t say anything. An immense ecstasy was building up from deep within me, and a wave of laughter broke forth from my core; it was so intense and rolling it dislodged the little you from the tip of my branch. You fell with the rain down onto the lonely earthen floor.

The next rainy day the same journey was played out before me. I let you slime up my body, caressing my bark with the length of your body, striving to reach the safety of my leaves. You begged me to let you stay using tantalising flattery but I just laughed you back to my feet, only achieving my own pleasure.

On the fifth rainy day it changed. Just as the great laugh was building up inside me a stormy black crow swooped out from the night and grasped you within its mouth. The crow landed on my wet branch, resting its wings as it swallowed you in one mouthful. The crow did not ask me if he could shelter on my branches. He simply expected it. I missed your beautiful words, your gentle trail as you embraced my body, the playful murmurs you whispered on our journey, the joy you filled me with, a joy you never took a part of. You always came back. I did not laugh at the crow, he gave me no satisfaction. I flicked him from my branch, but he did not fall to my feet. His sharp beak bit into my skin, his talons clawed at my arms, scarring the bark. He tore off my leaves and broke my branches. I was helpless as they fell to the ground. And then he stopped. And flew off into the night. I was left bleeding, and broken and all alone. In that moment, and for the rest of my life I mourned you.



Chloe out.


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