The Window – a short story

There is a window opposite my bed, a big one. It’s curved and gives m a little more space, although it is already a big room. I can sit and watch the tree, the leaves that fall and change. At the moment it is Autumn and every thing is turning orange and brown. I know that if I go out into the street I’ll be able to crunch them underfoot, but for the time being I just want to watch.

This year the council came along in their high-vis jackets and bad coffee to trim the trees. They didn’t trim them. They murdered them. Sure they have bounced back a little, but the trunks are so wide I can’t get my arms around them and now with this new haircut that make them look like lollies on sticks. I wonder if the trees are aware?

I read that the roots of trees nearby can touch and they can talk to each other, like if there is an evil caterpillar eating one… Then all the other trees pump more nasty tasting stuff into the leaves. Not sure if it would work with these trees. I think they are ash, and I’m not sure if they get caterpillars. I wonder sometimes if, as the council started to cut the first tree, it didn’t scream down this connection. The next tree would have supported the first but then that one would have screamed as it felt the chainsaw. At what point do you think they realised what was happening and the others realised they were next? There must be twenty trees down our road. Did the twentieth tree curse it’s own roots? What is it like to not be able to run?

So, I sit on my bed and wait for the leaves to turn and I wonder if trees feel pain. When I cut my hand it can hurt for a few days, what about a limb? They call branches limbs. Is a branch like a limb? 

I hope they can’t feel. But I have a feeling they can. They have to turn to face the sun, not the tree but the leaves. They move as the sun moves. It is slow but I’ve seen it. I bet they feel the warmth. I bet they feel the leaves change colour and fall to the ground. Maybe in the winter they sleep. It would be nice, as if they were bears. Sleep till the sun warms them.


2 thoughts on “The Window – a short story

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s