Excerpt
The Trees Swallow People: Part 21
It was dark on Easter Sunday. So dark I would have gone back to sleep had Diva not started barking, wanting to go out for a wee. I grumbled, swearing, getting dressed since I was sleeping in the nip with the warming nights, slipping into a pair of slip-ons and shuffling through the house and to the door. It was only when I opened the front door, with Diva shooting out, parading in a circle, and then piddling on the gravel, that I realised it was still as dark as night during the day. Street lamps still shone in the shadow of the great behemoth, spanning and stretching across the blue sky, eclipsing us in a paradoxical night. The houses were all abandoned as their doors hung open, the last remaining residents standing on the street, gawking up at the mass of fir reaching from horizon to horizon; from East to West. The rippling sea of branches shuddered and moved with a breath of a giant, threatening to give out from its own weight. There was no taper, no convergence of vanishing point; you wouldn't be able to tell if it was one straight body or if it' grew in diameter as it went. It was the mega-tree growing in the centre of the paddock.
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