Tree

They loved their garden, it was their pride, but now it was dying.

The grass was brown and the border flowers had faded and crumbled into dust.

Their beautiful garden was now a desert wasteland.

They watered it every day, they put lawn feed and nutrients down, they had even left it unmown in "No Mow May" but to no avail.

The only thing that still lived was the old willow tree in the corner, that seemed to be unaffected by whatever was killing the garden.

They could not afford professional experts to help them with their issues. They lived on a detached plot so there were no neighbours within a mile of them, but when they looked and asked, no one else was having a problem with their garden's dying.

Old Man Willow knew the score. All his life he had spread his roots out under the garden and whenever water fell, it was his. He would never die of thirst because he had planned the ultimate arboreal heist to ensure that he would thrive at the expense of the grass and borders.

Old Man Willow smiled and laughed at the distraught humans who thought he belonged to them.