The Last Branch

Hi! This is Alexis.

I wrote this for a short story contest but unfortunately, this piece did not win. But here it is! Hope you like it.

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The Last Branch

The ancestors cut down the trees that shaded Mother from the sun. She was blinded by sunlight and could not open her eyes. One by one, the trees became part of their houses. They sat, slept, and ate on it. When it broke, they used it as firewood. It brought so much convenience at the cost of the Mother’s vision.

When she was left with just one tree, she used its last leaves to make a beautiful green robe that covered her eyes. It had the majesty of the forest and all the shades of the earth.

For years, Mother remained in the middle of a bare patch of land. Until a young girl came to visit.

This girl always felt ugly. All the children said it. Her father never mentioned she was beautiful and since she never had a mother, no one comforted her.

She thought that the Mother of the forest was her mother. In her loneliness, she imagined that somewhere out there, there’s a mother for everyone.

‘Did you know that you can talk to Mother?’ The other children said. She ran down to ask permission from her father.

‘Can I go see Mother?’ She muttered so he could not hear her properly.

Her father nodded without even looking at her. She knew that he didn’t understand what she meant. She had no time to repeat the question and ran straight from her house to the barren land.

‘Mother?’ The girl’s voice echoed.

‘Yes?’ Mother’s voice was calm.

‘I’m,’ the girl hesitated, ‘your daughter.’

Mother did not respond.

‘They said you have the wisdom of the ages, of all ages. I have a -’

‘Child, did you know that this used to be the middle of the forest? The only thing they did not cut off is this. ‘ She pointed to the last branch attached to her.

‘Can I do something about that? If you could tell me something maybe I could help you. Just take one look, Mother. Just one look.’

‘I cannot. The sun blinds me. The trees are no more. ‘

‘Should I bring back the trees?’ The girl volunteered.

‘Can you?’

‘I will try.’

So the girl went there every day. She took that last portion of the tree from Mother’s side and planted it around her. Her sadness and diligence helped the trees grow faster. She cut down another portion from the growing one and planted it in the next spot. Soon enough, she had enough trees. She worked in silence while Mother dreamt of the forest.

It was one exhausting day after the next. After months of working hard, her father woke her up in excitement. They went to the village square where people gathered. In the middle were the trees she worked so hard to grow.

‘That’s for my chair. That’s for my bed! The leaves are for paper!’ The villagers said in excitement.

She ran immediately to the barren land.

‘Who goes there?’

‘I can try again Mother. I can work on it again!’

‘It was the last one, my child,’ she said. But what is it that you seek? Let me try to open my eyes one last time.’

She hesitated. But asked anyway. ‘Am I ugly as they say I am?’

Mother still could not see because of the bright light. ‘No child, from the little I could see, you are beautiful.’

Short Story Snippets

Hi!
I’m working on a short story about a carnival set in PH 2041. Here’s a snippet. Actually I’m done with it because I submitted it as an output for one of my comprehensive exams. But I guess, I’m editing it and might submit it somewhere. I’m not entirely sure. But here it goes!

When Timpi manned the gambling booths, he was unsure how much of the night’s earnings he could slide into his pocket. Huni caught a small glimpse of the box a few nights ago and gave him a suspicious look so he had to be more discreet about his ‘earnings’. If things weren’t so unpredictable he would slip a couple of coins a day, enough to get unnoticed. Two 50-peso coins couldn’t even buy him a cigarette stick in this economy. Maybe 2 pieces of hard candy. He tried to calculate a negligible absence, the balance between useful for him and unnoticed for Alpas. If only they made half the size of a cigarette so it would cost half as much and maybe lessen his chance of ending up in hell for he stole such a small amount that Satan wouldn’t even want him there. 

The gambling table was slippery from the gunk that accumulated from the decades worth of games. He cleaned it twice a week, scrubbed it hard that some of the paint faded. He had to trace them back with paint markers, it did not look decent. But it was enough for the gamblers, aesthetics was never an issue for them anyway. 

Timpi couldn’t resist. It was just not like him. It is not like he needed the money. He had everything within the confines of the land. Shelter – a decent sized room in a concrete structure. Alpas almost legally adopted him a decade ago but he still went on and stole from his foster father. He needed a cigarette to be sane and get through the week before the announcement. 

He couldn’t even remember that last time he held paper money. Maybe he hasn’t. It doesn’t matter because he would have no use for it anyway. Timpi was secure that he was going to stay. So when Aruga and Huni suggested that they randomly draw the ones who get to stay, he was furious.   

“It should be a fair fight,” he said. 

“Not everyone makes enough money for the land. We need the ones who are good to stay.” 

 “Are you saying, you make enough?” Huni said. 

“I guess you’re only saying that because you hold the money, unlike the rest of us who had to depend on whatever Alpas thinks we deserve.”  

“Physically holding money is not always earning money, Timpi.” Aruga added. 

“It’s just supposed to slip through your fingers rather than straight to the box.” 

 Huni finally spoke, “unless he slides it into his pockets, then…”  

Timpi couldn’t hold his temper. He was about to hit Aruga when the dog started barking. Aruga signaled Tahol to sit. 

“Watch your beast,” said Huni. “It might just cost you your spot.” 

Tahol whimpered. Aruga walked away and it followed him away from them.

In Acrylic

Maybe the woman abandoned this child. I decided to scratch that thought. The child is loved. There were just unavoidable circumstances. I changed the narrative in case the professor thinks it’s autobiographical.

I looked at it. Sleeping, maybe a bit too sad, or too happy. Its facial expression doesn’t change but it seems to give off this energy of desperation. Like I wanted it to be happy, so I kept adjusting the air conditioning unit. Take it to that sublime temperature. Sometimes I overdid it. I found that it works, imagining slices of hope. Maybe the room wasn’t well lit enough for it to see ‘anything’ that’s why it chose to close its eyes.

It communicates. Despite what everyone says, I’m sure it can. Even though it was enclosed in an acrylic box it wasn’t ready for burial. The space could sustain an organism: just enough nutrients for the harvest.