Julie's Oak

3pm and the sun shone fragmented marigolds through the glazed stain glass window. It was the 14th of February, and it was Julie’s birthday (Again).
The year since her previous birthday had passed so rapidly that I was completely unaware of the significant amount of time we’d missed. For my Sweet Julie was buried twice six feet under. And now she lay below the freshly pitched oak. Cherrybrook was no longer existent. All that remained were burnt-out timber skeletons.
The ghostly eve was none but ashes, black as a dead mans heart and wispy as a sultry summer storm. One year since that eve where the thunderous thump blistered peoples’ ear drums and the immediate and rapidly growing plutonic mushroom engulfed the clouds, the sky, the birds and the bees. Beauty was no more.
What remained of the tormented town was nothing but a road; a road as black as death. And death did it portray. Simultaneously, as the fatal fungus fell from up above, did skinless corpses drift around the town, attempting to excavate their loved ones.
What kind of a man can shoot a nightingale from its perch and then cause it continual suffering by dousing it in sweet bourbon and setting it alight, to die a slow and painful death? No one... could ever be this cruel. Yet people merely expressing their “condolences” for the plague brought forth in Cherrybrook by one ill possum.
Not even possum magic could cure this dreaded plague, caused by such a simple, timid creature with beauty like none other. No vegemite sandwiches could make this captured town visible once again. It is nothing but sunburnt dust.
As I write from my hand-crafted bench I dream of what there once was whilst gazing out the window in awe of the last remaining plant in Cherrybrook; Julies oak. The one that sprouted from her lifeless veins and bloomed form her blackened blood.
She went into town to get a loaf of bread. There was to be a birthday celebration with vegemite on toast for tea; my favourite, not hers. As I sat patiently waiting for my loveable, nurturing wife to return, I made myself a tea and sat staring out the window taking one sip at a time. As I lapped up the tea upon my arid tongue, I stared into its abyss, only briefly noticing before the clouds gave way to a man-made thunder, that I saw the shape of a mushroom hidden in the sugar. BOOM. Down in the usually sweetly nestled valley, a thick and daunting cloud cover enveloped the entire township. At that moment I knew only of one thing; Julie was no more.
One year on and Julie’s oak, had sprouted from her heart like magic. And as I buried what came from the cup of sugar, of which was so sweet and came a horrid death unto many, I noticed a possum up in the tree. I smiled and went back inside for lunch; a vegemite sandwich.

FOLLOW US


25

Write4Fun.net was established in 1997, and since then we have successfully completed numerous short story and poetry competitions and publications.
We receive an overwhelming positive feedback each year from the teachers, parents and students who have involvement in these competitions and publications, and we will continue to strive to attain this level of excellence with each competition we hold.

KEEP IN TOUCH

Stay informed about the latest competitions, competition winners and latest news!