The Pine Tree,

by J. W. Cassandra

My short story entitled "The Pine Tree" is one of the pieces in my anthology "Masquerade of the Cycle of Existence." It tells about a shapely little pine tree that admired the Christmas trees... He goes a long way to understand the rules of life... His dream is to become a Christmas tree one day. And he feels his dreams and daydreams to be more important than the rules: he screams silently in agony when he is cut down, and the miracle that he can share with a family and in which he himself can be a part as a Christmas tree attired in glittering, miracle-bringing ornaments floats before his eyes. He is the only one who hears the angels singing while the family celebrates. His memories are the treasures gilding his dying, and which still do not make him forget man's betrayal...

The tiny seed dreamt: "When I become a real, huge pine tree, I will attract admirers! My slender, titanic trunk, my evergreen branches, my beautiful green branch will attract everyone's gaze..."

And then the little seedling evolved into a small tree, then a small pine tree. The truly sky-high, slender pine, in the shadow of which he was hidden, encouraged him: "Do not let the laying siege to the celestial heaven float before your eyes! You might stay in the woods. You may be one of the brotherhood of trees that make up Earth's lungs. It is also possible that you will be chosen as a Christmas tree one beautiful day..."

"Christmas tree? What is that like?"

"A joyful, light-celebrating, loving, miracle-waiting, and miracle-bringing holiday, the center of which is the Christmas tree: with its sparkling and glittering ornaments, it steals the heavenly miracle into people's hearts, and with its tiny lanterns, it smuggles light and celebration into hearts in the darkest depths of the all-encompassing darkness. So that they can rejoice and that they remember that hope is always alive, as is love, which foments the world and is the nanny of billions of its life forms..."

"And what if I am not selected?"

"Then you can be one of the creators of clean air that is vital to the creatures! That is a great, noble task, as well."

But the little pine wanted to be a Christmas tree. And while in every darkness-bringer December he waited with anguish finally to be chosen, he had no idea of the sad reality: what has a beginning, it has an end in any case. And one beautiful day, he was chosen: an axe was held on his trunk, he screamed silently during each of the axe strikes, but if he had screamed loudly, one would not have heard him, for whose heart is hard, his ears are deaf, his eyes are blind... And they cut down the little tree, which only now had hope that someone would choose it as a Christmas tree. Heartbroken, he stalked the man who approached him in the pine depot: maybe, he could take him... But the days passed, people one after the other chose different trees for themselves, and so he had been grieving in the depot. While a foot stopped in front of him on the morning of the feast, and the man pointed him out promptly: "This shapely little tree, please!"

Then he arrived at an apartment, where the man carved the bottom of his trunk into a heavy stay-plate, which had hurt him a lot, but the joy of becoming a Christmas tree made him forget the anguish. And the man set him in the heavy stay-plate. Then came the young adults, who put pieces of Christmas fondant wrapped into shining wrappings, small burners, beautiful, sparkling-glittering golden, yellow, red, green, snow-covered blue, sparkling spheres on their branches, twisted sparklers to their ends, and then released boas on his covered branches: like a king dressed in a cloak, the little tree towered above the family, the whiteness of the peak of snow on its peak decoration was sparkling, and he almost fainted in his happiness, when they put the gift packages for the children under him, and then lit the sparklers. They just were sparkling around, really, like so many little stars scattered on the ground! And a tinkling sound of a little Christmas bell was heard, and the whole brood of children ran in making a joyful noise, and then they sang all the beautiful Christmas carols, and angels sang to them from the heights, which they could not hear, but the Christmas tree delighted in their voices.

And the joy persisted, although the pieces of Christmas fondant ran low: the glamour of the ornaments of the beautiful Christmas tree became more and more worn, and one day the hands that had previously decorated him were now depriving him of his ornaments: they took off the colorful, shiny spheres, the boas, the burners, only the empty wrappings of the Christmas fondant were swinging on it. And one of the kids - maybe accidentally, maybe intentionally - even kicked him. Then there was a debate about his fate: whether to can, to dump, or only throw him out on the street... Finally, the man who picked him, grabbed him, took him down to the street, and leaned him against the edge of the concrete pavement: who cares what happens to him...

And the Christmas tree, deprived of its ornaments, leaned obliquely on the curved concrete border, covering his head in the withering scent of his dying, to hide at least it from prying eyes... But there were no, and there are no prying eyes: the dying, once beautiful, happy, miracle-bringing Christmas tree cares for no one. And he keeps wondering why it should be celebrated at all, if the time of happiness, of miracle, of love is so ephemeral. However, Christmas lasts only a few days! But the creatures live here every day, they need the sustaining love every day, just like the air! Then why is it a must to execute the innocent pines, which are tiny but essential cells of the planet's lungs? Who is it, who makes the decision: it is valuable, it is worthless? What right can one have to judge? What useful does one create during their ephemeral lives? What is the use of waiting for a miracle if one then forgets the miracle? What if they do not experience it every day in their creative, value-creating work? And what awaits him and countless of his companions in distress?

However, people do not answer his questions, showering. And it is not even death that hurts, but the betrayal! Because those who rejoiced in the light of the Christmas tree now pass by as if he never existed. Because in pursuit of their momentary joys, they forget all about those who allow them to enjoy these pleasures, even by sacrificing themselves.

And the little pine, who for a short time could steal into the heart of a family miracle, light, happiness, and love as a Christmas tree, now thrown away as garbage, left to his fate, drowning in gasoline fumes, is dying in infinite indifference, abandoned for good. His dying is gilded only by his memories: once he was a Christmas tree that stole happiness into the hearts during the time of celebrating light, and of pure, heavenly love.

10. Jan., 2022, by J. W. Cassandra

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