text: The starry bright night skies painted across the hillocks loomed forebodingly. A sudden shrill crowing pierced the silent atmosphere. Within seconds the dusty old grandfather clock decided to start working. Letting out a loud ominous strike at the stroke of midnight. A presage of all that was to come. The inhabitants of the house, a elderly farmer and his wife, began to stir. She put her hand gently upon his shoulder as a gesture to see what all the hubbub was about. He patted her reassuringly before dropping his feet down towards his night slippers. Still sleepy, he staggered down the narrow hallway and into the living room. The pendulum of the clock was still swaying. The kindly old man opened the glass door and began to examine the mechanics. Nothing seemed functional. Puzzled he scratched his head, searching desperately for a rational explanation. His answer, or what he had presumed as an explanation, came when a rumbling shook the house violently. With a sigh he turns back towards the hallway and makes his way into the master bedroom. She stared at him with peering eyes. He rubs her cheek gently before kissing it softly. Older Man/Farmer: Go back to sleep honey. There's a nasty storm coming. I'll stay awake and keep vigil of the news and wake you if something was to arise. Which I assure it won't. Either way, I got you. You are safe with me. She smiled softly and lay her head on the pillow. The man tucked her in and sat for awhile until she fell asleep. Then proceeded to the kitchen to get himself a cup of coffee. Shakily he reached up into the cupboard to grab a cup for his instant coffee. The lightening flashed vividly. Followed by a huge grumble of thunder. This startled him greatly. He fumbled the cup in his hands trying his darndest to not drop it. Older Man/Farmer: For Pete sakes... With a huge sigh of relief he was able to recover the cup safely. He turns on the faucet. Distractedly, he began looking out the kitchen window towards the elder tree as his cup overflowed. Older Man/Farmer; Dagnabit! Come on, Walter, get it together! After emptying the excess water he placed the cup into microwave and pressed the start button. Still curious about the grandfather clock he moseyed on over into the living room and began to shake it. It clanked. Not at all like the sound that he had heard. This pendulum was dull. Too dull, in fact, to make that new symbol like sound. The microwave then began beeping. He grabbed an oven mitt and removed the cup of water. Slowly he added a few scoops of instant coffee before giving it a stir with his spoon. He rinsed the spoon off and placed it back into the dish drainer. His wife didn't have to know. For the longest moment he sipped his coffee staring out at that old tree as the lightening flashed in the background. The began to pick up tremendously. Yet, there weren't any severe storm warnings. The wind howled angrily. Then came the loud thumps of large hail. He tossed his coffee aside and rushed to his wife's side. He scooped her up from the bed side and began running for the shelter. The wife was completely unaware of what was happening as she was being woke from a deep slumber. Older Woman/Farmer's Wife: Walter! Walter! What on earth is going on? Older Man/Farmer: There's a tornado coming. She buried her head into his chest fearfully. Once outside the wind was so strong it was practically blowing them over. A loud, angry shrill of wind pierced the atmosphere. Looming off in the near distance was the tornado. He managed to rush to the cellar beneath the tree. He opened the doors and ushered his wife in then closed the door. You could hear her yelling his name. He hobbled over to the clothes line and ripped the tattered rope from the posts. Glancing over his shoulder he could catch a glimpse of the massive dark cloud barreling towards them. He knew there wasn't enough time for himself so he started wrapping the rope around the cellar knobs repeatedly with tears in his eyes. He could hear the desperation in his wife's voice as she pounded on the wooden doors and pleaded. Older Woman/Farmer's Wife: Walter! Walter! Please, don't do this! He held onto the doors as they shook uncontrollably. A limb then smacked him across his face. Grasping the branch with a elongated plume of red berries he place it to his chest and began to pray. Older Man/Farmer: To the elders of the Earth and Heavens, please, keep my wife safe. Watch over her. Please. Debris began flying all around. He crouched desperately into a fetal possesion. Clinging to both the door knobs and the elderberry branch. The winds whipped him around violently flinging him into the tree fracturing his spine. As his head thrashed back and forth rigorously against the tree trunk causing severe head trauma. Once the storm had come passed the woman shook the doors furiously trying to escape. Desperate to rush to her lover's side. She fiddled with an old coat hanger then began to tediously undo the matter knot. She burst free only to be met with a grimm scene. The house was demolished. All that left was a slab. The rare tree that Walter beloved was uprooted. Debris littered the yard and there underneath a sheet of tin was Walters body. He lay there almost perfectly. Still holding the elderberry branch across his chest. The newly widowed woman wept many tears as she lay her head upon his chest. A sudden burst of wind blew the branch catching her attention. She removed the berries from the branch he held and place it down into the hole where the tree once stood. Crawling on her knees she gathered up mounds of dirt to fill in the hole. Then watered it with her tears. Not just of sorrow, but of thankfulness....thankfulness to the forty-three years of amazing memories that they had shared together. As she lay on top of her deceased husband sobbing a neighbor was making his way across the field of debris. The look of complete and utter shock bestowed upon his face when he reached the widow. He pulled her from the body and tried to console her. He walked her passed the newly planted patch of land. Neighbor: I'm terribly sorry for your loss. That damned tree was cursed. I'm so glad to be rid of it. Stupid ecologist, or whatever they are tried to say I couldn't remove that tree because it was endangered and the authorities would be involved. So, I did the next best thing and moved way out yonder. It's such a tragedy. This was a wonderful community full of wonderful people. I swear to you, mam, it was that gosh darn tree! The forlorn woman sniffled and sobbed, but had a puzzled look upon her face. She paused a minute with great hesitation before responding to him. Elderly Farmer's Widow: My husband absolutely adored that old tree. I do not blame the tree for it was the tornado that had taken my husband. May I ask why it is that you are so taken aback by said tree? What harm has it done upon you personally? The man took off his cap and held it to his chest before waving it towards a nearby tombstone that stood in a once family owned cemetery. Neighbor: My daughter, Maggie, she killed herself. I found her face had cerise patches, and they were on her hands as well. She lay right there. Against that tree. She had consumed multiple handfuls of elderberry seeds. We were told they weren't poisonous. Them berries would just give you a major stomach ache if you ate too much during the morning hours. She died holding onto a branch from that very tree. The elderly woman stood putting her hand across her mouth and she began to tremble. The coincidence were unsettling, but she was trying her best to not let some superstitious curse take hold of her mind. A loud shrill echoed through the silence. The coroner arrived and began placing the farmer's body into a bag before whisking him away. There were multiple ambulances and EMTs attending to injured people. You could hear the chaos buzzing through the air, from the roaring of the sirens to the screams of children, and even those who were grieving. The elderly woman refused medical care. Her only concern was drudging through the rubble for her and her late husband's belongings. It was like something came over her. A wave of anger shrouded her as she shredded her hands ragged looking for their things. Bloody and bruised she screamed in emotional agony. She was becoming frantic, and people were taking notice. A kindly tree-trimmer stopped what he was doing, and put down his chainsaw. Tree-Trimmer: M'am, what is your name? Elderly Woman/Widow: Sue. My name is Sue. I can't find it. I need to find it! Tree-trimmer: Okay, Sue, my name is Tom. What exactly are you looking for? Maybe I can help you. Elderly Woman/Widow/Sue: My photo album. It's all I have left. It has to be here. I already lost my husband, my house, my car... I can't lose that! With a nod Tom, the tree-trimmer, began searching for her beloved album, but after tireless searching it was nowhere to be found. The woman was absolutely devastated. The man comforted her as best he could. He picked up his chainsaw and begin to resume cutting limbs. Then there was something that stopped him dead in his tracks. A picture of his late father. He burst into tears. Sobbing while holding the photograph in disbelief. Sue, whom was still franticly searching, when she heard a loud cry that caused her to stop, and see where the crying was coming from. She noticed that the young man, Tom the tree-trimmer, was sitting on a log that was cut from the elder tree crying. She walked over to have a seat next to him. Tom the tree-trimmer: My father loved this tree. I hadn't noticed that it was this very one. I was only twelve. My dad wanted to build me a tree house. There was an accident. He died still clinging onto a branch from this very tree. I never did find the photo he kept in his right front pocket. The tree-trimmer handed the woman a photo a young father holding his infant son. It was old, tattered, and slightly stained with tree sap. The woman gasped and briefly told the man of her story and that of her neighbors. Both of them were in sheer disbelief, but what happened next was astonishing. He began to fumble in a hollowed out hole in the tree. Tom the tree-trimmer: What other secrets are you hiding, Mr. Tree? He grabbed ahold of large object with smooth ridges. It was Sue's photo album, and stuck to the bottom was a ring. The ring belonged to her neighbor's late daughter. They both decided to take the ring back to the rightful owner. He broke down in tears, and decided to put the curse theory to rest. Together they carved, crafted, and painted an ornate bench. Then they had a metal plack with all three names attached in the benches center. It read: In loving memory of the three wisdoms of the tree. Leaf Wisdom/of change ever lasting: Laura Michele Birch. Branch Wisdom/of growth ever reaching: Walter Alan Conkrite. Root Wisdom/of endurance ever deepening: George Robert Stanton.