by Ben Loory
And then one day it decides to move.
I’m going to walk, says the tree, and it does.
It lifts its roots up out of the ground. And then it shakes them off, one by one, and heads off across the countryside.
At first, the going is rather hard, but then the tree gets the hang of it.
What are you doing? the other trees say.
I’m going to see the world, says the tree.
The tree walks and walks for miles and miles. It sees many interesting things—a well, a bucket, an old barn, a rusted sign.
It finds a road, and follows it a great distance.
Finally the tree comes up over a hill and sees a town spread out before it.
A town! thinks the tree. This must be a town!
And it hurries down the road toward the buildings.
When it gets to the town, the people come out to greet it.
A walking tree! they all say. A walking tree!
Everyone seems so excited to see it; the tree is very, very happy.
Hello everybody! the tree says, and waves its limbs around.
The people laugh and dance with it.
Let’s have a celebration! they say.
So the tree goes with the people down to the park that lies in the center of town, and everyone laughs and dances and sings, and tells stories deep into the night.
But when the tree awakens in the morning, it finds itself alone. And surrounding it is a tall iron fence.
What is this? says the tree.
It cranes over the top to get a better look. There is something on the front of the fence. The something is a metal block-lettered sign.
THE WALKING TREE, it says.
The tree paces back and forth in the enclosure. It tries the iron fence, but it’s too strong.
How did this happen? the tree says aloud.
But there is no response.
The tree doesn’t know what to do. Every day people come and stare at it. It talks to them, asks them why it’s been imprisoned, but no one pays any attention.
Look, all the people tell their children, look, it’s the walking tree.
And everyone acts like the tree’s not even there—except as something to see.
Finally, the tree just gives up. It goes to the center of the enclosure. It slides its roots down into the ground, and then it closes its eyes.
And it sleeps, and it sleeps, and it sleeps, and it sleeps.
And then it sleeps some more.
The years go by. The fence starts to rust. Fewer people come by to see the tree.
It’s not walking, all the children say.
It doesn’t do it very often, say the parents.
Eventually, the people in the town forget that the tree ever even could walk.
“The Walking Tree” is just a name, they say. That’s just what they call it.
And finally, the people in the town stop coming to see the tree at all. It just sits there quietly by itself, surrounded by the tall iron fence. Even the sign that used to hang there that said THE WALKING TREE is gone. It rusted away and fell to the ground, and was buried and has been long forgotten.
And then, after many, many years, the mayor of the town makes a decision.
That rusted old fence should be taken down, he says. It’s unsightly, and there for no reason.
And so the fence is taken down, and dragged away and destroyed, and only the tree stands in the park.
And now the tree opens its eyes.
Ah, says the tree, now’s my chance!
And it goes to take its roots out of the ground.
But when it does, it suddenly finds it can’t move them—can’t budge them at all.
What? says the tree, and pulls and pulls. But its roots won’t move an inch.
They’ve grown so deep, they’re sunk in fast.
The tree frowns and looks around.
And that’s when the tree suddenly sees that the town is completely gone. In fact, the land itself is gone!
And then the tree looks down.
There below—way, way, way below—the tree can see the town. It’s so far below, it’s just a spot.
The tree, you see, has grown.
The tree has matured and become muscular and strong. Its bark is thick and healthy. Its leaves are many, wide, and green; it towers high into the sky.
The tree has become magnificent. Straight and proud and tall.
And now it can’t even see the town—that spot might have been a rock, after all.
Off to the side, the tree sees a river, and beside that a little hill. And behind that, a group of little mountains; a little vale, a little dell.
And beyond that, the tree can see the coast, and beyond that the ocean wide. And scattered throughout, a million islands, and more land on the other side.
The tree can see the whole wide world; every inch, every mile. The tree looks around; it stretches out.
Hello, say the passing clouds.
The tree smiles back, and then looks up, and overhead, it sees the sun. And it reaches up and touches it.
While below, little people run.
THE SEA MONSTER
THE MEN OF THE ISLAND ARE OUT HUNTING SEA MONSTERS when one of them falls overboard. The others search for him all night long, but there is no trace, no sign of him, nothing.
Eventually, in the morning, they give up and head home.
Sorrow hangs over them as they row.
Upon arrival, however, the men are surprised to find their vanished comrade walking the streets of the town. When questioned, he claims to have never gone on the expedition.
I felt sick, he says, so I stayed home.
The men of the town can only stare at him. They were there, with him, on the boat. They saw him fall into the cold, dark water. They heard him cry as he fell.
They watch him now as he tells his story. He tells it again and again. Yet no matter how many times the men hear it, they know that it cannot be true.
But then—on the other hand—this they also know: the man could not have swum home. Not from that distance, not at night, not in waters that cold.
It simply could not have happened.
Either way.
Either way, it just isn’t possible.
And so, in the end, there is nothing to do. One by one, the men return to their homes. They try to turn their backs on the mystery the man presents, and go back to the world that makes sense.
But from that day on, no one trusts the man. The eyes of the town turn upon him. He can’t go anywhere without knowing he’s being watched, can’t say anything without feeling he’s doubted.
And, in time, the man rebels.
In time, the man becomes angry.
I just didn’t want to go on that ridiculous hunt! he says. Why is that so hard to understand?
The man begins to drink, then drinks more and more. One night in a tavern there’s a fight. Two men have been staring at him for too long.
One of them pulls a knife.
The man is found guilty of first-degree murder and is quickly sentenced to be hanged.
I acted in self-defense, he says. You all know I’m a peaceful man!
But no one in the courtroom even looks at him; no one cares what he says. The jury files out through the back door. The judge turns away from the bench.
The sentence is carried out in the town square, one year to the day after the hunt.
The entire town stands in attendance.
The hanging does not go well.
The man’s neck does not snap when the platform drops. Instead, he writhes at the end of the rope until suffocation finally takes him.
The people of the town watch it all.
They stand there silently and do not turn away until the man’s lifeless body comes to rest.
Well, that’s that, they say to one another. Guess that puts an end to that.
But that night, the people do not sleep well. They do not sleep well at all. In their minds, they see the sea—the
cold, dark sea—and in the sea, they see monsters. The monsters are rising; they are coming forth. They are climbing, crawling, sliding up the sand. They are moving over the island, toward the town, moving through the streets of the town. They are moving around and under and over and through all the houses of the town, licking and smelling and touching and feeling and tasting the sleeping people of the town. They are laughing their hard, shrill sea monster laughs, and waving their prehensile hooked limbs.
And then all the monsters are in the town square, and they are raising up the hanged man.
In the morning, the townspeople rise as one and walk to the square and stand looking.
There, from the gallows, a body is still hanging.
But the body is not that of the man.
By the stroke of noon, the ships are embarking. The bowsprits point the way. The nets have been patched, and the harpoons are sharpened.
This time, the men are shackled in place.
THE MAN AND THE MOOSE
A MOOSE IS STANDING IN THE FOREST WHEN HE SUDDENLY hears a noise. He looks up and sees a plane flying overhead. As he watches, a man jumps out. A parachute bursts open and the man floats safely down.
The moose goes over and looks at him.
Hello, says the man, gathering in his parachute.
Hello, says the moose. What are you doing?
Oh nothing, says the man. Nothing much. I just jump out of planes every now and then.
The moose looks up at the sky.
Is it fun? he says.
Oh yes, says the man. Have you never done it?
Me? says the moose. Oh, no.
Well come along with me, says the man. We’ll go back to town and get you all suited up, and then off we’ll go. What do you say?
I don’t know, says the moose. Isn’t it dangerous?
Dangerous? says the man. No, not at all! Well, a little, but hey, isn’t everything?
I guess, says the moose. When you put it that way.
And after a while, he starts to nod.
All right, he says. Okay.
Great! says the man. You’re gonna love it!
And he claps the moose on the back and the two of them start off.
When they get to the edge of the city, the moose suddenly stops.
What about the people? he says.
What about ’em? says the man.
Well, says the moose, I’m not saying that I’m afraid of them, understand. But they’re always out in the woods looking at me. It makes me nervous. I don’t know what they want.
Hmm, says the man. I doubt they want anything. But okay, here’s what we’ll do.
He takes an extra T-shirt and a hat out of his bag.
Put these on, nobody’ll recognize you, he says.
The moose looks at the offered disguise for a moment.
All right, he says, and puts it on.
The man and the moose wander into town. The moose is very, very nervous.
Hey Tom! someone says, and a group of people come over. How’d your jump go today? And who’s that?
The man turns and looks at the moose.
This is my friend Lawrence, he says. He just came in from the coast.
The moose shakes hands all around.
Quite a grip you got there, Lawrence, says one of the men.
Are you bringing Lawrence to the party? says another.
Shoot, says the man, looking at the moose, I completely forgot about that. You mind coming along to this thing tonight? It’s sort of a shindig for my most recent jump.
Sure, says the moose, feeling self-conscious. Sure, that’ll be fine.
That night the man and the moose go to the party. It is at The Explorers Club. There are a number of long tables arranged in a square. The man and the moose are in the place of honor.
The moose is having a wonderful time. The food is really very good. Different people make different speeches, and the moose finds the waitress quite fascinating.
But then, suddenly, something draws his attention: heads—animal heads. They’re lining the walls, all around the top. Lions, zebras, deer, elk . . . and moose.
Fear grips the moose’s heart.
Killers, he thinks, looking around the room.
What is it? says the man, sensing trouble.
The moose turns and looks at him in horror.
You’re trying to kill me, he says, his voice a whisper. You brought me here to kill me!
What? says the man. Why would I do that? I don’t understand.
But the moose is too scared to explain. He stumbles backward to his feet. He points a hoof at the abomination on the wall.
The man sees it. Then his eyes go wide.
My God! he says. I just didn’t think!
He reaches out to reassure the moose.
But his hand grabs the T-shirt and it rips and falls off, and then, to make matters worse, the moose’s hat tumbles to the floor.
Everybody turns.
A moose! they cry. Get him! Get him! Get the guns!
The moose takes off. He galumphs out of the ballroom, knocking people over left and right. He barrels through the doors and off down the hall.
The members of The Explorers Club are striking the glass on the gun cases.
Hurry! they are yelling. It’s a big one! The biggest!
The moose careens out into the street. He’s weaving in and out of cars. There’s honking and screaming. The moose has never been so terrified.
Wait! Wait! cries a voice.
The moose looks back. It’s the man, running after him.
I’m sorry, yells the man. I didn’t think! I’m so stupid! I’ll make it up to you! I’ll get you out of this! I swear!
Are you kidding? yells the moose. Why should I trust you?
Just then, gunfire erupts. It’s The Explorers Club, hot on their trail. Bullets whiz past—close, closer.
I can take you to the plane! says the man. It’s your only chance!
The moose thinks.
Another bullet whizzes by.
All right, the moose yells, climb on!
The man jumps on and the two of them charge through the streets.
Turn left! yells the man, and the moose turns.
Up ahead is the airfield. Behind, the men with guns—getting closer with every passing second.
There’s the plane! the man hollers, and the two dive on board. The man guns it and the plane taxis toward the runway.
Behind them, The Explorers Club lines up in a row.
Fire! says the leader. Fire more!
The plane is hit in ten thousand places, but still it manages to lift off. Behind, it trails a cloud of smoke and fire that is terrifying to behold.
We’re not going to make it! the man yells to the moose. We’re going to have to jump!
He turns and looks for the parachutes, but there is only one.
You take it, says the man, pushing it to the moose.
But the moose just stares at it in silence.
No, you, says the moose. I don’t even know how to use it. Besides, I wouldn’t have gotten this far without you.
The man thinks for a moment.
We go together, he finally says. It might work, it might not, who knows.
He straps the parachute around them both and edges the moose toward the door.
On the count of three, the man says.
And the moose jumps.
The man and the moose plummet through the air.
Is that the forest? the moose calls. Down there?
Yes! says the man. Isn’t it pretty?
It is! says the moose. I can see why you like doing this!
At this point, the ground is coming up pretty fast.
All right, says the man. Moment of truth!
The two grip the pull-cord tightly together.
I hope we can be friends, says the moose.
THE END OF IT ALL
A MAN AND A WOMAN FALL IN LOVE AND ARE MARRIED, and are happy in every single way.
&n
bsp; Then one day a flying saucer lands in their backyard, and a door opens, and an alien comes out.
I’m going to have to take one of you away, it says.
What? say the man and woman. Why?
I don’t know, says the alien. That’s just how it is.
And in the end, the woman gets taken away.
The man, of course, is extremely upset. He goes to the United Nations.
An alien stole my wife! he says. You have to do something!
We’re sorry, says the UN, we don’t deal with aliens.
The man goes to see the folks over at NASA.
We can barely get to the moon, NASA says. You’d be better off trying to build a ship on your own.
Okay, says the man.
He goes to the bookstore.
The man has never really been to the bookstore. He finds lots of interesting books there: science, and technology, computers, and how to build things.
He buys them all and goes home and reads.
After some time, the man thinks he’s ready. He builds a spaceship in his backyard. The first one doesn’t start, and the second one explodes, but the third one runs perfectly, like a dream.