The Yule Log

It was just yesterday when the destructive storm struck down one of my neighbours with lightening. With the massive blow, all of us around her moved away.

Well, maybe not exactly move, we can't really move. I've been living in this forest ever since I was a little seed. And never have I had to lean away like I did yesterday. At bird's view, it kind of looks like an UFO crash landing, the circular pit with all things around trying to crawl away, but unsuccessful.

I know how she felt when she was struck. We were raised and planted for the Christmas Yule log program. It is most prestigious if one can be cut down and used on that show. She was so close, her age was perfect and moisture level was to the tee, she would have been a great Yule log.

As depressing as her death was, I believe that I am next to the throne. I am at the tender age of 83 and being an oak, I'd be the star this year.

Some may think, "but you get burned and then you're over!" Well, that's true, but I can't think of it that way. I've heard people talking about the Yule log, it brings them joy every season. It's almost a North American symbol!

"I feel all warm inside when I watch it," I hear beings say sometimes. And it touches me that I can bring warmth and joy by simply being cut down and burned. It might seem like martyring, and really, you can call it all you want, but I want to be the star. I want to create the crackle and fire that adorns the television every Christmas eve.

Of course, I'm only a slight percentage of the population. Many disagree with me. They think that humans are selfish and greedy. Only thinking about themselves and their festive cheer.

"Why should we sacrifice ourselves for the sake of their enjoyment?" bellows the maple next to me occasionally, "I frankly think fondly of those fake fireplaces, gas fireplaces I believe,"

I shake my head silently, they just don't understand! It's not the same. We create authenticity. People these days forget what was great, and only look toward what will be great. Like good old axes! What happened to those? Back then, lumberjacks had to fight for a log of wood, now, it's simply an electric chainsaw hacking away at our trunks. At least if they used all their strength to cut me down, I would give them my appraisal for trying.

Technology, bah humbug!

I am a scrooge for technology, sure it made transportation easier, of course it made communication more accessible, but it's also caused pollution and weapons to name a few. Honestly, I prefer the agricultural days, where everyone farmed and kids went outside to play. When talking to someone required face-to-face interaction. It's a shame I wasn't planted to witness those glorious years. I had to bear the 21st century.

Oh well, at least the television is here so that I can whisk all the beings away to Christmas dreamland. I don't remember when we started calling people beings. It was definitely before I was even a seedling. Although, I heard they were called that because of their nature. We trees know our life path. We get planted, we grow, we stand for decades, and we rot and die. Sure humans are born, they grow, get sick, and then they die, but their lives are so much more complicated. Why are they even living? We trees think it is because they are only being themselves. They were born to live as humans, so they are being humans.

Anyway, enough of my underdeveloped philosophy, its almost chopping time. I have to spruce up my leaves and stretch my branches to look appealing.

I stand proudly as I hear a chatter of lumberjacks hiking into the forest. I guess it really isn't a forest, it's more like a farm, but when one's lived here all their lives, one cannot see the rest of the world. Although I have heard from birds that our 'forest' is nothing compared to others outside the moldy brown fence.

I see three fairly large men with red toques and heavy pleated buttons up scanning the forest. Each time their eyes cross my trunk I suck in my front side and stand tall, and each time they leave me, I sigh in sorrow; my branches droop visibly.

At last, I see one man's finger pointing to my lean brown body and I sway a bit in excitement.

"They picked me!" A feel others shake their branches in mourn while some tap my leaves in congratulations. This is even better than discovering my seed has mated with another! This is the happiest day of my life and, I apologize in advance, I am so happy that tree got struck down from lightening, otherwise, I'd have to wait another year or two!

I feel my bottom slowly losing life, the animals that dwelled inside my holes either quickly left or died with my decaying body. I feel like I'm being reincarnated into something more worthy of my life on earth. The lumberjacks yell in conclusion as I fall mightily onto the ground.

My life has been fulfilled.

The heat warms my core as I feel the camera rolling. The crackle that I make is the soundtrack of my life. Each snap represents the birth of a new leaf, and as I slowly melt away into dust, my ashes float across the studio room, and into the warm lives of others across the nation. I bet they are all sitting in front of the television screen, singing Christmas carols and drinking hot cocoa. I can almost feel their joy and cheer as the last of me burns with passion.

That folks, is what Christmas is all about.

Joey.

I was watching the yule log program when this idea just popped into my head, and I had the greatest urge to write it. Having not written for a long time, I hope this is up to par. Please, I welcome all constructive criticism, because no story is ever perfect.

Anyway, I wish you all a Merry Christmas, or, more generally, a Happy Holiday!

Until next time, bye!

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