{"id":3745,"date":"2023-11-27T20:52:49","date_gmt":"2023-11-28T00:52:49","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/?page_id=3745"},"modified":"2023-11-27T20:52:49","modified_gmt":"2023-11-28T00:52:49","slug":"silky-oak","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/fiction-archive\/silky-oak\/","title":{"rendered":"Silky Oak"},"content":{"rendered":"

Silky Oak<\/strong><\/h2>\n

Rowan MacDonald<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I glance over my shoulder, heart racing.\u00a0 They\u2019re still in hot pursuit.\u00a0 I shouldn\u2019t have robbed the bank.\u00a0 I dart to my left, hope to evade them, yet there are too many.\u00a0 My foot stumbles over tree roots, and I collapse to the ground, eat a mouthful of dirt.\u00a0 Cold, silver handcuffs wrap around my wrists.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGotcha!\u201d they laugh.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThink I grazed my knee,\u201d I moan.\u00a0 \u201cGet Mom!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She walks over and shakes her head.\u00a0 \u201cCops and robbers again?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTree root got me,\u201d I sigh.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat will teach you to get ahead of yourself,\u201d she smiles.\u00a0 \u201cPerhaps a life of crime isn\u2019t for you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I vow to stay on the straight and narrow, and never get ahead of myself again.<\/span><\/p>\n

***<\/b><\/p>\n

When Silky Oak isn\u2019t giving life lessons, she\u2019s my reference for all things tall.\u00a0 The landmark of our street, a beacon of safety, the sign we are home.<\/span><\/p>\n

She watches us each day; green, fur-like leaves reaching out, begging for new adventures.\u00a0 The taller I grow, the less imposing she seems, yet she remains a constant in the ever-changing landscape of our lives.\u00a0 There on my first day of school, and there when our home breaks apart.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Arguments echo through walls.\u00a0 Someone moves out, another person moves in.\u00a0 Silky Oak remains.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

When it gets too much, I escape outside and run towards my friend.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGet back here!\u201d a man yells, waving his fist.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I shield my body with her trunk, hide from anger billowing down the street.\u00a0 I press my face into the grey bark, its furrowed patterns etched against my cheek. A refuge in turbulent times.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

***<\/b><\/p>\n

Storms rage all around.\u00a0 Silky Oak fights a battle of her own.\u00a0 Branches lie in mangled heaps; leaves scattered across roads.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I watch helplessly as the chainsaw man removes sections, eliminating the canopy.\u00a0 I want to protect her like she has done for me, but it\u2019s hopeless.\u00a0 I stand in silence, out of respect for a wounded friend, and bow my head as body parts are driven away.<\/span><\/p>\n

***<\/b><\/p>\n

A golden-orange tinge fills my vision; a sign of new beginnings, a chance for renewal.\u00a0 Silky Oak is changed, yet flourishing; wounded, yet triumphant.\u00a0 I walk home from school each day, place my hand on her, until I\u2019m no longer walking by myself, and have a companion by my side.\u00a0 We hold hands, and once again, the tree bears witness to my racing heart.<\/span><\/p>\n

We sit beneath her branches, sunlight flickering through leaves.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI made you this,\u201d I say.<\/span><\/p>\n

She opens a container, reveals a cupcake, decorated with a heart made of icing.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s so sweet!\u201d she says, leaning towards me.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Silky Oak holds us within her roots, present for another of life\u2019s moments.\u00a0 As my heart thumps, I\u2019m convinced I feel something similar radiating through the furrowed bark.<\/span><\/p>\n

Our lips meet awkwardly, and for a split second, Silky Oak and the universe cease to exist.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI like it here,\u201d she says.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMe too,\u201d I smile.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"BlackRowan MacDonald<\/strong>\u00a0(he\/him)\u00a0<\/i>is a writer and musician from Hobart, Tasmania. His words have previously appeared in a variety of journals, including most recently: Sans. PRESS, Paper Dragon, The Ocotillo Review, The Ignatian Literary Magazine, Defunct Magazine\u00a0<\/i>and\u00a0OPEN: Journal of Arts and Letters. <\/i>His work has also been adapted into short film by New Form Digital. When not writing, he enjoys spending time with his dog, Rosie, sipping cups of tea and reading the words of others.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Silky Oak Rowan MacDonald   I glance over my shoulder, heart racing.\u00a0 They\u2019re still in hot pursuit.\u00a0 I shouldn\u2019t have robbed the bank.\u00a0 I dart to my left, hope to Continue Reading →<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":6622,"featured_media":0,"parent":1301,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/3745"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/6622"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3745"}],"version-history":[{"count":11,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/3745\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4555,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/3745\/revisions\/4555"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1301"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3745"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}