The glowing ball of red mingled with amber, like coals, rose in the sky slowly, out of the hills. The crimson glow it cast over the lands was like spilt blood, after a bloody war on the battlefield, or after an executioner had finished his tasks, Looking at the dawn and the animals that would soon stir into life, a sense of nostalgia overcame me. These things which I had grown accustomed to, was now going to be taken away from me.

I noted the sight of a man step out of the trees. He strode towards me. The man who had given me life. And also the man, who would take away that very gift. The animals in the forest would not witness my demise though.

This man had found me in the barn when he was a child. I was small then, a mere seed in the garden of life. He, as an inquisitive boy began to nurture me, giving me the essence of life. As he blossomed from a young boy into a strong, broad-shouldered man, with muscles rippling through his body, so did I. Whenever he needed some peace and quiet especially when his mind was troubled, I gave him support and company. Sometimes I would try to soothe him with my music.

During his growing up process, he started to require the things or abilities I possessed. He gave me the essence of life, and I rewarded him with the gifts Nature had bestowed upon me. And as the years passed, he began to require more, not only for his own, but also for the people around him. In the later years, he came lesser to enjoy my company or for solitude and peace. He simply took even more of the fruits of my labour. The first betrayal came when he and his group of friends gathered and took them all. Still, I persevered, hoping that one day, he would appreciate and acknowledge this old friend again.

He had reached me now. The music of the leaves rustling in the forest, failed to sooth him anymore. I was weary, unable to bear any materials for him to build those wooden swords like I used to give, in his childhood. The favonian breezes caressed me for the last time.

I looked at the man, whom I had supported and considered my friend, who would carry out the final betrayal. I registered this memory and shut my eyes. I could hear the motion of the axe against the wind, as he swung his axe. The agonising pain shot through every capillary, but more anguish tore in me!

As I was fading away from this man's mind; not even a distant memory for him, I knew that the friendly ties between us, a woodcutter and a tree would never again be forged. Those were things of the past. I long knew those salad days were gone, yet I could not stand this betrayal.

The last thing I noted, was the first of the sun's rays breaking out.

Author’s Note: How was it? Did you guess it all halfway through? It all started when my English teacher wanted us to write a paragraph with the title “The Final Betrayal” and I started to describe all the killing of the tree. After she heard it, she said “Sounds like some murder film with a psycho in it.” My friends laughed till they almost wept. Then, inspiration struck me to write this piece.

Read it again, and you can spot the clues. “Fruits of my labour”; the “music” that the tree provides is actually the rustling of the leaves; Nature’s very own music; “essence of life” is actually water. British spelling used. Leave a review please! Thank you!