I’m currently on the road and writing this in a hotel. As always, I wish I could read more of the other stories but I should be able to pretty soon in the future.
The gnarled old oak tree on the hill loved Jenny. He loved watching her spread her picnic blanket in his shade.
“I’ll dress up for Halloween,” he said, and propped a goat’s skull in the crook of his branches.
But no one saw or cared, even Jenny who was at a party.
His heartwood was wounded deeply, and tearing up roots long planted, he rampaged through the town.
They caught him, cut him down, chopped him up. “Trees go bad,” they said.
But Jenny didn’t dance around the fire they made and her heart ached, although she didn’t know why.