text: T. Colby Owen 2/12/2021 After living in the city all your life, you have had enough. You decided to move to a remote location in the forest. You're not used to the woods but you find it very peaceful. Today, you decide to explore the surrounding area a little better. As you walk through the forest, you are confronted by a bobcat, not even 15 feet away. At first petrified, you soon regain control of your limbs and sprint for your life. As you run one of your shoes falls off. You kick the other one off. After having to run through a river, you look back to check and find nothing giving chase. You decide to lose your socks, seeing as they’ve gotten wet. It’s late at night, you're wet, and you're cold, when suddenly you see a small building in the forest. Upon closer inspection, you find that the entire building is covered in the most beautiful flowers you have ever seen. Deep magentas and vibrant purples, snow whites, and sun yellows. You approach a flower and take a deep breath, taking in a smell akin to cinnamon and vanilla. You approach the door, but reconsider for a fraction of a second. You decide nothing can go wrong, and you cross over. Once on the other side, you're hit with an aroma like no other. Peaches and sugar, vanilla and cinnamon, and yet, you can’t pinpoint the smell. It’s otherworldly. Divine, even. You pause for a moment and look around, and to your surprise, you find yourself outside in a seemingly never ending field of flowers, magnitudes more gorgeous than the flowers on the outside. You realize that you can see the sun in the sky, and you can already feel your clothes drying out. You feel the soft dirt between your toes, a relief from the rocky, inconsistent forest floor. You look back through the door, and see the forest you were in. Curiously, there’s no wall surrounding the door, but you would've been more surprised if there were. You listen, and you find it quieter than the heaviest snow you’ve ever been in. You look forward and see something in the distance. Unable to make it out, you decide to try and get closer. Along the way you find that lots of little rivers twist and wind around the landscape. You find that you're thirsty, so you decide to take a drink. Although tasting no different than regular water, the coolness and the freshness is unchecked by the laws of nature. You look down and watch in awe as the scratches you got from running through the forest heal in mere seconds. You look towards the object and find you see a tree. It’s only about 150 feet away, and the water has completely restored your stamina so you decide to sprint. When you reach the tree, you find that it’s actually on a small island surrounded by a pond, but clear enough to see the bottom is at least 20 feet down. Upon closer inspection of the tree, you find you see the most colorful assortment of fruit you’ve ever seen. Thinking with your stomach, you swim across the pond, a good 40 second endeavor, and crawl up on the beach. You step in something soft but unconventional. You look down and see a thick moss. A little sceptical at first, being a city person and all, but after taking a second to adjust you find it much more pleasurable than even the softest grass. You wiggle your toes, and decide it’s ok. You approach the tree, and reach out for the lowest hanging fruit. You can’t reach it, but the branch bows down and lets you take it, giving a sort of life to the tree. You instinctively say thank you, to no response. You're not surprised. You look at the fruit in your hands, and see a deep red. You wanna say “Apple,” but from looking and feeling it you can tell it's much juicier than an apple. It’s also a near perfect sphere. You decide to throw away any expectations and bite into it. You’re met with a satisfying crunch, but at the same time a juiciness with a consistency much like honey. Unsurprisingly it also tastes like honey, but not the honey you get in supermarkets, the honey that makes you think, “This is the elixir of life. it must be!” You take a few more bites and contemplate grabbing another fruit, but decide it would be disrespectful to the tree so you finish it. Next you choose a very light purple fruit. It takes some effort to get to but you assume it’s worth it. You forget to examine it and take a bite, you reel back in surprise when it’s fluffy. It tastes like cotton candy, which kind of makes sense. What doesn’t make sense is that it also melts like cotton candy. You ask yourself, “Why does it melt?” but then you remember your journey in and stop worrying about it. You climb higher and higher, trying new fruits of all different colors, shapes, sizes, and tastes, each one immeasurably better than the last. When you finally reach the very top, you find what looks like a small walnut, not bigger than a segment of your thumb. It’s brown and odorless, and hard as a rock. You try biting into it, to no avail. You absentmindedly slip it in your pocket and start climbing down. When you get back to the pond, you take a drink and look at your reflection. In the reflection, to your horror, you see flames behind you. You feel the heat on your back and instinctively dive in, swimming to the other side of the pond. You look back to see the tree ablaze. You watch for a while, before turning back to the door. On the way back you notice all the flowers are wilted, the water black, and the earth sharp rocks. You go through the door and look back, but the building is no longer there. You walk back home, sad that the door disappeared but happy that you walked through. Before you go to bed, you remember the odd fruit you plucked at the top of the tree. You examine it for a minute, before putting it on the nightstand and falling asleep. You come to a realization in your sleep, and the next morning you wake and instantly exclaim, “It’s a seed!” You run outside as fast your still sore feet can carry you, dig a hole that feels deep enough, drop the seed in, cover it back up, put a fence around it as best you can, and water it. Years later but not past your prime, after having tended to it every day with the utmost care, you look out and see a small stock and a single leaf. Knowing you will never get to taste that divine fruit again, you finish watering it, content to nurture a gift for your children, and your children’s children. End.