Tree-A short Story

By Carlos Ayala

Woe is me, but never fault; for I have grown the tree and found a way up but not down. I scoff at the tree for its brittle structure and inability to support me. I feel the tree tricked me into its embrace. Now at the top, I am restricted by too much fear to escape.  The rain it pours yet the tree fails to produce the leaves to shelter. I curse the rain but to no avail for I know it’s the tree. The wind it howls through the brittle twigs, I curse again and again yet not let up the wind. Swaying from side to side at times at three hundred sixty degrees; I cling to life holding on to the smallest limb of the tree. Alas the time has come and I feel weary enough to forego my fear. I braced my mind for the mere thought of death and clenched my teeth tight enough to crack. I told myself it was a leap of faith that I was just going to have to make. If I didn’t like the results, they would be better than doing nothing. Time passes on and I try convincing myself again; just a quick leap and it’s over no more letting the tree win. The rain came down and the black cloud covered my head, I said “to hell with this shit, I’d rather be dead!”

So with a final saying I overcame my fear and took the leap. I came crashing to the ground on my elbows and knees. I took a look around and realized I could breathe, I could hear I could see! Never more thankful to be alive with glee! I saw a witness and I asked him “Did you see?” I was emphatic and ecstatic at my accomplishment and feat. And the stranger just responded: “Really dude, it wasn’t that big of a deal, the tree was only 6 feet. “

ALL THINGS HORRIBLE.

By: Carlos Ayala

 

Woe to the enemy, the enemy itself lies within. Parallel distances, lead to the same destination. We have seen evil and tyranny in many, and love and acceptance from a few. The views we have politically and intellectually expressed have became the chains of our own enslavement. We have fallen to the irreverent. As childish as a belief in an omnipotent being that controls our fate with the push of a button.  We sing our songs of arrogance. Our knowledge is truth stretched far. We have bled for the ideals of those who will abandon them later. We listen when they rabble on top of soap boxes, singing parables of our lives. Just to make us feel a connection, that was never there. We were lost inside the mythology of wicked men, we were doomed to their destiny. We carry the blood stained banners of history with indoctrinated pride. We are destitute and forever in debt to the diluted spoils of war. For which we are told to sacrifice our lives, in the name of unfulfilled promises. Freedom exists purely as state of mind. What is the meaning of freedom? Does the meaning change to perception? Is there a cost for freedom? And if the cost is your life, where is the freedom in that? We are surely free to perish. If we had any freedom. Death is the only freedom they can not take away from us. For those intellects with minds to change the world. Ask yourself, should we redefine freedom or simply change how it is obtained?