| General Fiction posted June 26, 2022 |
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Abusing natural things may have a consequence.
Slingshot
by HarryT
Pulling back his slingshot, Jason aimed and fired a rock at the hickory tree. A loud groan shredded the air as the projectile ripped off a chunk of bark. Suddenly, a limb swung down, plucked the slingshot from his hand; two branches scooped Jason under his arms and squeezed him tight.
“What the heck!”
More limbs descended, enveloping Jason in a leafy shroud. Air oozed from his lungs as twigs and leaves invaded his nose and climbed down his throat as a large limb lifted him and thrust him against the tree trunk. Volcanic terror erupted as Jason felt himself sucked deeper and deeper into the tree's cellulose fibers. His heart pumped sap, arms became branches, and legs fused into the trunk. A large burl appeared, looking much like a face. Graveyard silence fell over the yard.
Mom's calls for dinner echoed through the empty yard.
“I’ll get that darn kid,” Dad said. However, he couldn’t find him. He waited and then called the police. They searched for a week, but to no avail.
A year after his son disappeared, Dad sat in the old hickory's shade. He liked to sit there on Saturday afternoons and read. He didn’t know why, but it made him feel closer to Jason. A gust of wind rustled the dark, pointed leaves. Dad glanced up, cocked his head. He thought he heard, “Dad, look up, I’m here.” His eyes scanned high into the tree. He noticed a burl looking much like a boy’s face and branches like extended arms. He shook his head, smiled and shrugged, thinking perhaps he had been reading too many Stephen King novels.
And the moral of the story is do not abuse Mother Nature because there may be consequences.
Write A Modern Fable writing prompt entry
Pulling back his slingshot, Jason aimed and fired a rock at the hickory tree. A loud groan shredded the air as the projectile ripped off a chunk of bark. Suddenly, a limb swung down, plucked the slingshot from his hand; two branches scooped Jason under his arms and squeezed him tight.
“What the heck!”
More limbs descended, enveloping Jason in a leafy shroud. Air oozed from his lungs as twigs and leaves invaded his nose and climbed down his throat as a large limb lifted him and thrust him against the tree trunk. Volcanic terror erupted as Jason felt himself sucked deeper and deeper into the tree's cellulose fibers. His heart pumped sap, arms became branches, and legs fused into the trunk. A large burl appeared, looking much like a face. Graveyard silence fell over the yard.
Mom's calls for dinner echoed through the empty yard.
“I’ll get that darn kid,” Dad said. However, he couldn’t find him. He waited and then called the police. They searched for a week, but to no avail.
A year after his son disappeared, Dad sat in the old hickory's shade. He liked to sit there on Saturday afternoons and read. He didn’t know why, but it made him feel closer to Jason. A gust of wind rustled the dark, pointed leaves. Dad glanced up, cocked his head. He thought he heard, “Dad, look up, I’m here.” His eyes scanned high into the tree. He noticed a burl looking much like a boy’s face and branches like extended arms. He shook his head, smiled and shrugged, thinking perhaps he had been reading too many Stephen King novels.
And the moral of the story is do not abuse Mother Nature because there may be consequences.
“What the heck!”
More limbs descended, enveloping Jason in a leafy shroud. Air oozed from his lungs as twigs and leaves invaded his nose and climbed down his throat as a large limb lifted him and thrust him against the tree trunk. Volcanic terror erupted as Jason felt himself sucked deeper and deeper into the tree's cellulose fibers. His heart pumped sap, arms became branches, and legs fused into the trunk. A large burl appeared, looking much like a face. Graveyard silence fell over the yard.
Mom's calls for dinner echoed through the empty yard.
“I’ll get that darn kid,” Dad said. However, he couldn’t find him. He waited and then called the police. They searched for a week, but to no avail.
A year after his son disappeared, Dad sat in the old hickory's shade. He liked to sit there on Saturday afternoons and read. He didn’t know why, but it made him feel closer to Jason. A gust of wind rustled the dark, pointed leaves. Dad glanced up, cocked his head. He thought he heard, “Dad, look up, I’m here.” His eyes scanned high into the tree. He noticed a burl looking much like a boy’s face and branches like extended arms. He shook his head, smiled and shrugged, thinking perhaps he had been reading too many Stephen King novels.
And the moral of the story is do not abuse Mother Nature because there may be consequences.
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Writing Prompt Write a short fable-like story where the last sentence starts with: "And the moral of the story is". This can be on any subject, true or fictional, and can be in any voice, as long as the moral is stated in the last line. A new twist on an old fable is also allowed. Be creative and have fun! Maximum word count: 300 |
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