The Tree

Emma didn’t go down that street anymore.

In fact, she hadn’t gone down it in years. The last time had been with a policeman and her mom. The time before that had been with Linette.

She remembered that day so well.

“Don’t you hear it?” Linette said to her. “The tree knows my name.”

“I don’t hear anything,” Emma replied. Well, she heard cars and people in the cafe and such, but she couldn’t hear the tree.

“It wants me to put my hand in there,” Linette said, pointing to the oddly shaped cavity in the trunk.

Emma tugged at Linette. “Let’s go,” she said. “This is creepy.”

But Linette ran back. “I’ll catch up with you,” she said.

Emma never saw her again.

Emma repeated that story umpteen times to her parents, Linette’s parents, and the policeman. She showed them the tree.

They shook their heads and looked at her with sad expressions.

Poor confused little thing, she could hear them thinking.

Now, she could hear the tree calling. It did know her name. She was blocks away, but somehow she knew.

She knew it was the tree.

Emma, Emma, the tree called. Come see me.

“No!” she said aloud.

Emma, Emma, the tree called.

Emma found herself walking toward the street, then down the street, then approaching the tree.

She had forgotten the way the cavity in the tree looked like a yawn.

Put your hand inside, the tree said.

Timidly, Emma reached her hand toward the hollow.

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This is my submission for the Unicorn Challenge. It’s a simple challenge: write no more than 250 words and use the photo as a prompt.