There are many of my kin I admire; those whose death made history. The Great Cedar who was cut down and shaped into a cross. My great uncle that supported the Roman soldier named Sebastian while arrows pinned him tighter to his bark. Others, nameless, whose bones formed ships that discovered the Americas and the Orient.
Will my death, like theirs, mean anything? Will I be turned into necklaces, icons in silver and gold?
A woman is hugging my midriff, praying that my roots hold against the monstrous cyclone approaching fast. My prayers join hers, as I stand and wait.
Rochelle from Friday Fictioneers chose a wonderful picture for us this week by Indira. I hope you like my story and if you wish to read other inspired stories featuring mystical foliage, scattered ashes, ancient barks and magical leaves, be sure to visit this page here.