lemonade. Dad always sent out a fresh pitcher for me on hot days.
The man that told me to stay away from the tree was very wise. At the time, I thought he was an imperialist swine determined to keep me from saving the tree. The Gumji Gumji was slated to be destroyed that day. The details were hazy. I assumed it was being torn down for medicinal purposes, I had watched Medicine Man when I was a kid. Lucky for the Gumji Gumji, I was quick on my feet.
I pushed through the crowd gathered around the tree, taking the chains I'd brought with me out of my backpack. I chained myself to the tree. I expected the crowd to try to stop me but they all stayed far away.
I didn't freak out when the branches of the tree wrapped around me. I was a bit dehydrated at the time, and assumed I was hallucinating. I did freak out when a giant hole opened up in the trunk. I continued to freak out as the branches pushed me inside the tree.
I now sit in the soft center of the Gumji Gumji being slowly absorbed. It turns out that Gumji Gumji does not mean “Tree of Love”, it means “Eater of Man”. Apparently it's a rough translation.
This hurts like hell. And it's slow. And there's no fucking lemonade.
About the Author
Libby Heily is a playwright, screenwriter, short fiction writer and is working on her first novel. She is thrilled you took the time to read this collection of her short fiction. She publishes flash fiction on her blog every Friday.
Please feel free to visit Libby any time. She loves the company.
My blog: https://libbyheily.blogspot.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/LibbyHeily
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends