A Lonely Tree

The last tree. That’s what I am. Well, I’m not quite a tree yet, but someday I will be. I’m only four years old, it’ll be another several years before I’m considered mature. Not that it matters. There’s no one around to care. All I can see for miles is flat, dry land. The sun has scorched the Earth, leaving most of it barren and empty. I’ve lost all of my friends and family to the humans. They came through with their machines and their factories and they left nothing behind. Nothing but me, that is. Now I’m here, alone, left to survey the damage the humans have caused. When I go to sleep, I dream they come back for me. I dream every night that they rip up my roots and chop me into hundreds of pieces to be used for various useless purposes.

I used to have animal friends that would come and visit me. They would scurry up my small trunk and congratulate me on any new leaves. I provided what little shade I had to offer, and they provided comfort and love. When the rest of the trees went away, so did they. A drip of water slides down one of my leaves. I feel myself wilting, ready to give in to death. When I’m dead, nothing will matter. That sounds a lot better than feeling the loneliness and emptiness bottled up inside of me. I hear thunder in the distance. Rain is coming. I like the rain. It’s cool and satisfying and fills my roots up with nutrients. The wind starts to pick up, jostling me around a bit. I relax, letting it pull me every which way. It’s much easier than resisting. Water begins dripping down from the sky above. It’s not everyday that it rains, but I always enjoy it when it does. I listen to the wind whistling around me and the occasional clap of thunder. I watch lightning light up the sky. I’m glad I’m not mature yet. Lightning can kill a tree just like that. But as painful as it was to get struck, it was much more painful to be torn limb from limb by the merciless humans.

The rain slows to a steady drizzle. I suck up the rain through my roots, enjoying the nourishment it gives me. Suddenly I hear voices. Excitement grips me as I spot a herd of zebras headed my way. I stand up straighter. It’s been a while since I’ve had visitors. The zebras make their way towards me.

“Finally, a tree. I haven’t seen any for ages,” one of the zebras exclaims as she gallops towards me.

“Are you the last of your kind, tree?” one of the older male zebras asks me.

“Yes. I’m the only survivor,” I whisper sadly. The zebras sip at the water pooled up in my leaves. Some use my small trunk to scratch their backs.

“Do you mind if I-have a few of your leaves?” the female zebra asks nervously.

“Oh, sure! There’s plenty there!” I say excitedly, glad to be of use. She munches on a few of my leaves and some of the others join her. I giggle as their tongues brush against my twigs, tickling me.

“Where are you headed?” I ask.

“To wherever there’s more food. It seems all of the animals that once lived here had the same idea. There’s not much left,” the older male replies as he observes the land surrounding us.

“Tell me about it. I’ve been so lonely. You’re the first living things I’ve seen in ages,” I murmur.

“And I’m sorry to leave you, but we have our survival to worry about. Good luck, tree.'' I watch the zebras head off to the west. The loneliness doesn’t take long to settle back in. I find myself wilting again. I no longer have the energy to stand up straight. I sigh as I try to get some rest. I’ll need it if I’m going to survive.

Days pass. Some of the days are sadder than others. I wish I was like one of my leaves, able to fly around and see the world. Instead, I’m stuck here in one spot, unable to move, unable to cry, and unable to interact with anything. More days pass. A tornado blows past. I fight to remain rooted but it proves difficult. I almost think to give in, but I can’t. I’ve made it so far. I can’t give up now. I go to sleep when the storm is over, overcome with tiredness and emotion.

I look around. I know I heard something. I peer around at the land. There’s a gentle roar and it sounds as though it’s getting closer. Perhaps it’s another storm, but that would be odd given there isn’t a storm in sight. There it is. Some sort of human vehicle. Anxiety grips me. I’m stuck here, at the mercy of these oncoming humans. I can’t escape. I try to think comforting thoughts. Maybe they won’t see me. Maybe they won’t be bothered to stop. No. They keep coming towards me. They are pointing at me now. I wish now that I had let myself get carried away by the tornado. I’m panicking now. I don’t know what to do. The humans pull the vehicle up beside me and get out. The roar of the vehicle dies down to a gentle hum. There’s a female and a male. They slowly approach me.

“I don’t believe it. There’s one left,” the female murmurs as she kneels down beside me. I’m confused. She seems...peaceful? She rubs her hand up and down my bark and observes some of my leaves.

“Can we take it back? Is it healthy?” the male asks. I panic again. Take me where? Somewhere to kill me?

“It is!” the female exclaims as she observes my stature. She leans in close.

“We’re going to take you to a new home where you can grow and thrive with your brothers and sisters. You’re one of the only ones left, you know. You’ve got the fate of the world in your hands, or should I say your branches,” she whispers to me. Relief settles in. I’m not the only one left.

“Are you talking to it?” the male asks, his eyebrows raised. The female shakes her head and stands up to face him.

“We found what we came for, we’ll have to go back and get tools to dig it up.”

“How will we find it again?” the male asks. The female turns to look at me and pulls a heart-shaped locket from around her neck and clasps it around my trunk.

“There’s a tracker in there since we didn’t know what would happen after the eruption,” the female explains to the male. He nods and they get back in the vehicle. The vehicle roars to life and they drive away. I feel giddy with excitement. They’ll be back for me thanks to this little locket.

I hope.