Old Growth

He had been walking for days, the food and the water had run out long ago... He was the last of his tribe, the last of the hunting party that had set out across the great ice bridge in pursuit of the mammoth herds.

They had ventured far from their homeland...so far... living had been good for a time, when the meat was plentiful... But as the last mammoth fell to spear and arrow the realization set in... there was nothing behind them to sustain the journey home, the only way was forward into an uncertain future and a nostalgia for the times of feasting.

His tribesmen had succumbed one by one, not in any heroic fashion but to exhaustion and to the elements. Had they been more diligent they might have noticed that other than the sought after mammoths, nothing else inhabited this barren plane, no vegetation or small game, no means to support life at all.

Ice gave way to the desolate shores of a vast dessert that stretched from horizon to horizon. They persevered for weeks on nothing more than dried meat and waterskins and when they ran out they carried on with nothing at all. There was no choice but to continue.

Every death weighed heavier on their burdened hearts... Had they resolved sooner to eat the dead and drink their blood they may have lasted longer, but it would have merely prolonged the inevitable...and they had not yet known true hunger.

One man remained now, without either a strip of dried meat nor a drop of fluid to slicks his swollen tongue but even so, he walked onwards. Fear of his tribal lineage dying with him spurred him onwards when he longed for nothing more than to join his compatriots in death and to let the sands claim him.

He prayed to the gods for forgiveness, to forgive their hubris in embarking on such a fool hardy journey, for the greed that had drove them and lead them astray. He fell to his knees and head cast skyward implored the heavens for salvation or death. No answer came however and he hung his head, defeated.

He was going to die, he knew it, could feel it. The realization brought with it an animalistic urgency, his eyes darted about furiously, searching for whatever force may be present to bargain with for his life but there was nothing but sun scorched sand for as far as the eye could see and his cries fell upon deaf ears.

Just as he had lost all hope and his parched scream died in his throat with a strangled gurgle… he saw it.

There before him, not but a hundred feet from him, how could he miss it? There was a tree like he had never seen before. It was a dark green arrow that pointed to the heavens, needle like leaves covered its fan like branches... it was the most majestic thing he had ever seen and a tear rolled down his cheek as he tried to make sense of it.

The great green monolith presided over the desert, as out of place as the man himself in the endless plain of sand but far more strange as the tree appeared to have sprouted from the lifeless soil itself.

The man stumbled up close, collapsing in the shade of the great green tree. He stared up into the branches of it, unable to grasp the reality of its existence here in the desert, almost unwilling to trust his eyes and to hope that his prayers for salvation had been answered.

Though whether or not this aberration WOULD save him was not apparent upon inspection. There was no water to be found around the trees trunk and no fruit to be found in its branches. His heart sank realizing that despite this miracle of a tree and the soothing shade he now found himself in, he was still doomed to expire upon the desert sand, alone.

He reached out to touch one of the waxy green fronds of the tree, marveling at it and twisting it between his fingers.

Held correctly one could touch the smooth green needles but if not careful one might … ow!

A needle pricked his finger eliciting a shot of pain through his arm and then… visions, sounds, a feeling like his head was too full and might split like a rotting fruit.

The first thing he noticed was the drums. The rhythmic pounding of a war party but unlike any he had ever heard before. Despite its Alien timbre he recognized that it signaled an approach...

The needle remained in his finger as the world around him shifted and changed. The world was still there, the sand and sky and tree were there but overlaid by swirling shapes and colors not known to the waking world. It was if he had been pushed into a dream without having fully gone asleep. Shapes spiraled and careened around him, collapsing into one another, appearing far away then encroaching on him to close for comfort. He coward away from these apparitions, closing his eyes but finding they were inside him as well performing their feral dance on the back of his eyelids.

internally he called out for whoever was listening to cease these visions, he begged with every ounce of being and promised anything and everything in his power to make it stop! Then mercifully, it did.

His world went black despite his eyes being open… or not open. Infact he marveled at how he could not feel his body around him at all, he was but a conscience adrift in the void.

He did not fret, for any release from the chaotic world he had left was a blessed place, he relaxed and found contentment in being nothing at all for awhile.

Questions began prodding him for attention, as they often do when blissful ignorance has run its course and the future cries out to be attended to.

Was he dead? All evidence would suggest so. Of course he knew he had been dying but had never thought it to happen so suddenly… so unremarkably… that is besides being overcome with an unfamiliar and terrifying world before crossing over.

No one had spoken of that particular detail in relation to death before. He had always believed the stories the tribe had spoken as they hovered about the sick and dying, speaking softly.

The dying would spend their final moments in the days of their youth, surrounded by familiar faces of friends and family long past, carried into the afterlife reminiscing on the deeds of their entire life, whether they be noble or… otherwise.

Perhaps he had been deemed …otherwise. Perhaps THAT death was reserved for cannibals such as him, reserved for those that had survived only by the sacrifices of his friends and family until he alone was left, no noble act left undone to redeem him.

That thought angered him. What choice had been left to him? He had not murdered them! Only when they asked for a merciful death had he obliged! And despite his ravenous hunger he had not fallen upon the warm corpse with barred teeth and ripped at it like an animal. He had shown the same respect to them that he afforded a kill from a hunt, with reverence.

How much different was THAT from a mammoth or a deer? His people held all life sacred… but life must be sustained. What greater power would endow man with the need to consume and then punish him for it? A Cruel one, not one worthy of worship in his estimation. Satisfied that he had wrestled with god and won he continued floating on through the emptiness, self assured in his actions.

Then something occurred to him that humbled his thrice sized ego; he wasn’t being punished now, something had released him from that terror storm of altered reality and given him solace here. His ego cowed he projected his remorse to whichever force or deity had aided him, and to his surprise came a reply.

An entity called to him, not quite in words but having the impression of a greeting being spoken through water, garbled, and its speaker timid and unsure if the words it used would be understood by its recipient.

“Hello!” The man projected back at the entity. “im here! You heard me! Thank you"

The man felt the entity project reassurance to him, as if it had nodded graciously and said I help lots of people out of nightmares, don’t worry about it.

The man beamed at this benevolent force. “where are we?” He asked “this place is so peaceful compared to… the other place"

The entity considered this, as if considering what words to use or which the man might understand.

“You are with me"

the words no longer came across garbled but were clear in the mans mind as if placed there.

“yes… but where are we? And who are you?”

Moments dragged on an eternity and the man feared he had offended the being but another wave of reassurance washed over him and he realized it was simply contemplating.

Sudden images in the void startled him, they were projected into his mind mixed with feelings and sounds and senses that could not be described.

It was almost overwhelming but the entity encouraged him.

“its alright, concentrate”

The man reigned in his anxiety and forced himself to concentrate, all senses coming into alignment. The image of the tree resolved in his mind, standing lone and proud amid the desert, it emanated the same reassuring feelings the entity did.

“This is you?” the man asked and felt an affirmative in reply

“How did you get here?”

A Barrage of information hit him, words and information so unfamiliar and dense that it paralyzed him. The entity stopped the Barrage abruptly followed by what could only be called an embarrassed apology.

Images appeared again but more sedately, the concepts simplified for its audience. The image of a bird plunging down to earth from the night sky, a seed clutched in its talons and flames trailing the tips of its wings. The bird hit the ground with a mighty crash, burying itself completely in the sands so that it could not be seen.

The passing of time could be recognized in the vision as the sun chased the moon in ever frantic arcs and the sprouting of a small green tree could be seen in the crater of the great bird.

Judging by how slowly the tree grew in relation to the rising and setting sun it had been here for a very very long time. Prompting a question.

“How? How were you able to grow in the desert?”

The words that responded, real words this time, startled and held the man spell bound.

“From the blood of the one that brought me here, of course”

The meaning of the words troubled the man but they were spoken without malice or threat, as if it had been the only way for this being to survive and it was not ashamed, it had done what it needed to survive, as he had done.

His sudden feelings of kinship with the being were mirrored back to him, it knew what he had done, knew everything about him and didn’t judge him for it.

Another question prodded for answers

“but im dead aren’t I? How else could I be here with you?”

The entity paused again, choosing its words carefully.

“not quite”

The entity seemed hesitant to tell him something.

“you body will die soon, but your spirit may live on, if you wish"

It was the mans turn to be tentative.

“I don’t understand”

The entity poured on more reassurance as it made it’s offer.

“You may surrender your body unto the sand, allow me to draw sustenance from it and In return I will join with you. Your spirit will live on for eternity, with me"

The man was unsure, his thoughts grew frantic and yearned for the tales of the afterlife his tribe had spoken of. To be surrounded by friends and family for eternity, not with this strange being alone in the desert.

2 sets of Images were forced into his mind each vying for attention and he realized he was being given a choice;

In one he saw himself spat back into consciousness, shaking and afraid. His mind ruined by the visions that had transpired as he died slowly over days without any comfort or relief but the agonized death that awaited.

In the other vision he could see himself lying down in the sand, sinking below were no doubt the roots of the tree wrapped about his lifeless form and drank of him. He then saw more trees appear in the desert, spreading out in uniformed ranks as they beat the desert back towards the horizon. Despite the monotony of the desert he did recognize the spots in which his tribesmen had fallen, their bones to lay scattered amid the sands for all time, or perhaps not. The now vast forest of trees grew to encompass their resting places and with each one incorporated into the forest a feeling of being reunited accompanied them.

The entity spoke once more.

“The choice is yours”