Categories > Original > Drama
A stark land of leafless trees and merciless wind. There was no movement save for when the naked branches were tossed about. The ground was dry, not having seen rain for almost two weeks, and free of any weeds or grass. The wind howled as it rushed between the crooked trunks, giving the scene an eery feel. Nothing dared interrupt its symphony as there were no birds to sing. After all, few animals could survive in this derelict landscape and those who managed lived lives of solitude, perhaps never seeing another of their kind. None dared to even enter this abandoned part of the city. It was said to be haunted by the ghosts of those who died there. How they died - only a small number knew. The victims were said to be lured into the forest by the wind’s beautiful song and were, by some unknown force, persuaded to hang themselves from one of the trees. All of these so-called “suicides” were attempted on the same tree, which residents of the city named “The Hanging Tree”.
Nobody ever understood why so few animals lived in those woods and why Spring never seemed to touch the area. It was permanently shrouded under black clouds that refused to rain upon the lifeless scene.
The only trace of colour, shining through the monochrome landscape, was a bouquet of daffodils tied to the trunk of The Hanging Tree. The heads of the once beautiful flowers were now drooping, exhausted by the lack of sunlight, the petals fading to become almost white.
The wind blew once more and The Hanging Tree shivered as if in excitement or anticipation. The trees around it shied away like started mice but returned to their original position once the breeze had passed through.
A woman of about twenty staggered, almost drunkenly, bare-foot over the dusty ground, her long black hair hiding her face from view. She stopped, lifted her hands and parted the curtain to look up at The Hanging Tree. She smiled to herself, pearly white teeth glistening from in-between her thin, pink lips. Her skin was made to look paler by the shade of her hair and clothes. She wore on her a black dressing gown that seemed to drown her in ruffles of thick, warm fur.
As she tilted her head back to see the topmost branches, the smile remained on her face. It was apparent she was not crazy in the way she moved and looked about herself, nor was she scared by the wind that howled all around her.
She started forwards towards the tree, stumbling but regaining her balance almost at once. Laying a hand on its rough, gnarled trunk, she lifted her foot from the ground and placed it on a small stump that poked out from the trunk where once a branch had grown.
The woman made her way carefully but quickly to the top of the tree. There, she perched on one of the thicker, stronger branches and huddled into her knees. Not once did she shiver, despite the bitterly cold wind, but her face grew paler by each passing minute.
She reached into the pocket of her gown and pulled from it a rope, already tied so it had a noose at one end.
Slowly she attached it to the branch she was perched on and slipped the noose over her head.
Time seemed to slow as the woman allowed herself to fall forward.
The Hanging Tree had claimed another life.
Nobody ever understood why so few animals lived in those woods and why Spring never seemed to touch the area. It was permanently shrouded under black clouds that refused to rain upon the lifeless scene.
The only trace of colour, shining through the monochrome landscape, was a bouquet of daffodils tied to the trunk of The Hanging Tree. The heads of the once beautiful flowers were now drooping, exhausted by the lack of sunlight, the petals fading to become almost white.
The wind blew once more and The Hanging Tree shivered as if in excitement or anticipation. The trees around it shied away like started mice but returned to their original position once the breeze had passed through.
A woman of about twenty staggered, almost drunkenly, bare-foot over the dusty ground, her long black hair hiding her face from view. She stopped, lifted her hands and parted the curtain to look up at The Hanging Tree. She smiled to herself, pearly white teeth glistening from in-between her thin, pink lips. Her skin was made to look paler by the shade of her hair and clothes. She wore on her a black dressing gown that seemed to drown her in ruffles of thick, warm fur.
As she tilted her head back to see the topmost branches, the smile remained on her face. It was apparent she was not crazy in the way she moved and looked about herself, nor was she scared by the wind that howled all around her.
She started forwards towards the tree, stumbling but regaining her balance almost at once. Laying a hand on its rough, gnarled trunk, she lifted her foot from the ground and placed it on a small stump that poked out from the trunk where once a branch had grown.
The woman made her way carefully but quickly to the top of the tree. There, she perched on one of the thicker, stronger branches and huddled into her knees. Not once did she shiver, despite the bitterly cold wind, but her face grew paler by each passing minute.
She reached into the pocket of her gown and pulled from it a rope, already tied so it had a noose at one end.
Slowly she attached it to the branch she was perched on and slipped the noose over her head.
Time seemed to slow as the woman allowed herself to fall forward.
The Hanging Tree had claimed another life.
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