Fable
The Pear Tree
The courtyard was buzzing with life as Eren sat at his window. His room was high up, and he had a clear view of everybody going about their business, unaware that they were being watched. There was Lottie sitting at the fountain, singing to a girl as she braided her long hair, and on the other side of the fountain, a multitude of doves ate a handful of breadcrumbs as a young man painted a picture of them. Eren recognized him. It was his friend, Solomon, who was trying to get into a prestigious art school. Across from them, an acquaintance named Jonas did stretches before running laps around the courtyard to prepare for an upcoming race. There were others – some familiar and others foreign – that made up the vibrant collection of people in the beautiful courtyard, and with the diverse group came an array of hobbies that Eren loved to observe before running errands in the neighboring town.
By Patricia L.4 years ago in Fiction
A very old story
My grandma used to tell us a story when we were kids. My siblings, my cousins, and I would sit in a semicircle and listen to her soft and deep voice as she would narrate a story that was passed on to her and her siblings from her grandmother. A story as old as Nature herself, she would claim. We didn’t know how old that was, but we imagined it was something like grandma’s age multiplied by one hundred —or something like that. What did we know? It didn’t matter. We liked listening to her telling it.
By Natalia Perez Wahlberg4 years ago in Fiction
Naming the Serpent
The creature slithered down to her, its scales gliding over the rough branches of the Forbidden Tree, tongue flicking in and out with a teasing rhythm at the heavy pears loading the branches. Tear shaped leaves scattered sunlight across its curved back, scales sparkling like the diamonds her Father had shown her. Every movement the creature made was a picture of mountains at sunset, every sway an iris blooming to face the dawn.
By Jordan Marshall4 years ago in Fiction
my favorite neighbor
I can see why he chose to live in the pear tree. The intricate veins of its leaves, the way the sun shines through them to warm your body as you rest on a branch, the sweet taste of its speckled fruit, the deep roots that promise security and stability. It’s the most beautiful spot in the neighborhood.
By Mara Marques 4 years ago in Fiction
Indoor gardening
On the south side of the house, in the petty part of the yard, there is a small garden. The garden grows cucumbers, mugwort, lavender, carrots, tomatoes, and marigolds. The Peartree grows in that same plot too. In the springtime, the bed gets made again and the earthy smell gets trapped and rescued under the nail beds of Henry. Kate watches him from the study, as Henry takes the seeds from the packet and plunges them into the dirt, covers it, and presses his hands on the top of the soil almost like kneading dough. And then moves to the next, Kate is unsure if he plans out a pattern prior to the planting or if he simply moves without thought. She often feels like she is watching something secret like she’s watching him change his clothes or something. It feels intimate, but it’s gardening, she reassured herself, surely this is fine. Kate’s condition didn’t allow her much time outside. Her mother told her that the fresh air was only suitable in small doses, however, when she did have outings it was invigorating, and thought that her passing out was simply a sign of that. The pear tree was always a peculiar tree to her, the trunk so rough and squat, and this one was particularly pear-shaped in its foliage, the white blossoms would aromate the space, and she would crack the window just a touch brings her face down to the sill and inhale deeply, once her mother walked in and Kate was able to pretend she was tying her shoe, not sniffing the magnificent smell that wafted over in the warming midday sun. She often imagined that smell wrapping around her like a gauzy white cloak or blanket like the one that she had had as a baby, the waffled texture bringing weight to the blanket that was otherwise not there at all. She felt safe and bigger than she was somehow.
By Claire Hunter4 years ago in Fiction
If Only Pear Could Talk
A big beautiful spreading pear proudly stood in the middle of the family backyard. It was not the only fruit tree there, there were also apple, mulberry and tart cherry trees. It was not the oldest in the family’s little orchard, that would be the two mulberries, but the pear tree was the biggest and obviously the most valuable as it sat right in the center, providing shade for a big part of the backyard. It had been planted by the patriarch of the family, a father of two girls at the time, in 1951, to celebrate finishing the construction of the main house on his little farm. In more than 40 years of its existence, the pear tree saw a lot of the family life and the way the village changed.
By Lana V Lynx4 years ago in Fiction
A peacock, a weasel, and a pear tree
The peacock Peacock was molting. It was his first molt and and he wasn’t taking it very well. He was very proud of his feathers. He thought of himself as the most handsome creature in the garden. He loved to strut around Julia’s Perennial Tea House impressing guests when they came to buy peonies and drink tea. But now he was afraid. At any moment he could lose another feather and it was only a matter of time until his rump looked bare and his fan of color was gone. He could see the trend, but he didn’t want anyone else to know what he was going through. Each time a feather fell out he surreptitiously took it in his beak and relocated it to a hiding place. And when he showed off his fan of color he was coy, not opening the fan all the way, so that what feathers he still had made a solid band of color, even if it was a narrower band of green and blue than it used to be. He hoped it looked intentional, as if he were in too much of a hurry, going someplace important, to open his fan all the way.
By Alice Eckles4 years ago in Fiction
The Magic Pear Tree
In a very secluded forest there was a magical pear tree. Trees are known to live for extremely long periods of time undisturbed and the magic pear tree was no exception. The magical energy of the tree was so strong the fruit it bore yearlong was practically glowing a golden color. One day a group of explorers stumbled upon the tree and partook of it’s fruit. When they did the spirit of the tree spoke and amazingly addressed each of the explorers by their name without being told. As they stared with their mouths agape in disbelief the tree told them they may have one wish but to keep the tree a secret.
By Christopher “CJ” Herring4 years ago in Fiction
