I’ve been an author for many, many years now. I have my hands in two novel series, various novellas, and a slew of short stories. And while most of my stories take place in the same universe, there are a few that do not. But in each of these fictional universes, there is a tree. An oak tree. It wasn’t planned that way…
The Oak Tree
There’s an oak tree, somewhere out there at the intersection of multiple realities and various dimensions. It sits, unhindered by time. Unhindered by man. It sits on the lines of creation, soaking in God’s dust, breathing in God’s air. It is not supposed to be there, but then again, it has been there since before beginning was a mark of time.
Nobody really knows where this tree came from. Nobody knows where it draws its water, or who prunes its branches. To different people in different times, the tree has a slightly varying appearance. And to each person, to each group of persons, the tree represents something different.
Sometimes it is a friend, comforting a young woman when the love of her life has fled only to leave her in the darkness. The tree remains with her, shielding her with its branches, even though the darkness is attempting to take it away as well.
Sometimes the tree is an omen of the end of things, a symbol of what once was to remind of what has been lost. A glimpse of past innocence.
Sometimes the tree is the place where justice succumbs to evil, where lust takes hold and devours a once-noble knight. The tree will not stop he who sins. It simply observes.
And yet, through it all, the tree never really changes. It stands, observing our worlds, our realities, interacting with them as it sees fit. It is but a mere oak tree, until you realize its roots spread throughout all possibilities.