Love Me and the Tree

The old oak tree stood at the edge of the meadow, its branches twisting toward the sky like outstretched arms. It had been there for as long as anyone in the village could remember. The children called it the "Love Tree" because of the countless initials carved into its bark—testaments of fleeting romances and unspoken promises. Some believed it had magic, that if you carved your name into it and whispered a wish, love would find its way to you.

Elara never believed in such things. Love, to her, was as fragile as the petals of a dying rose—beautiful but doomed. She had learned that the hard way. Yet, despite her skepticism, she found herself standing beneath the great oak, her fingers tracing the rough carvings of names she did not know.

She sighed, leaning against the bark. "Love me," she whispered, not to anyone in particular, but to the wind, the sky, the earth.

The tree shuddered. It could have been the breeze, but something in the air felt different, charged with an energy she couldn’t explain.

A voice, deep and warm, echoed from behind her. "Careful what you wish for."

Elara spun around. A young man stood there, half-hidden in the shadows of the branches. His eyes were dark, filled with a sadness that mirrored her own. He was tall, with unruly hair that curled at the ends, and his clothes were simple but oddly out of place, like they belonged to another time.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Someone who once stood where you are now," he said, stepping closer. "And made the same wish."

Elara frowned. "You wished for love?"

He nodded. "A long time ago. But love isn't as simple as a carved name on a tree. It has a price."

She felt a chill run down her spine. "What do you mean?"

He hesitated before speaking. "This tree grants love, but it takes something in return. The deeper your wish, the more it demands. Some people give their happiness, some their time... and some give their hearts."

Elara swallowed. "That sounds like a fairy tale."

The young man smiled, but it was laced with sorrow. "Maybe it is. Or maybe it’s a warning."

She studied him for a moment. "Did you carve your name here?"

He glanced at the tree. "Yes. And I found love. But I lost myself."

"Lost yourself?"

"I don’t exist outside this meadow anymore," he said. "The tree took me, bound me to it. I became its guardian, forever watching others come and go, making wishes they don’t understand."

Elara took a step back, the reality of his words sinking in. "Then why are you warning me?"

He looked at her, something unreadable in his gaze. "Because you still have a choice."

She glanced at the tree again, its ancient bark lined with stories of love and loss. Perhaps it truly was magic, but magic always came with a price. And love—real love—was never something you could simply wish into existence.

She reached into her pocket, pulling out the small knife she had brought to carve her name. But instead of pressing it into the bark, she dropped it onto the grass.

"I think I'll find love on my own," she said softly.

The young man smiled, the sorrow in his eyes lifting just a little. "Wise choice."

Elara turned to leave, but before she did, she glanced back at him. "Will I see you again?"

He gave her a small, almost wistful smile. "If you ever return to the meadow, maybe."

She nodded and walked away, leaving behind the tree, the whispers of the past, and the boy who had once wished for love. As she stepped out of the meadow, she felt lighter, as if she had just avoided a fate she couldn’t fully understand.

And behind her, the tree stood silent, waiting for the next soul to whisper, "Love me."