The Old Oak Tree (Part 1)

The boy stood at the base of the old oak tree, fingers flexing at his sides. His eyes traced the twisted trunk that rose like a dark tower into the misty morning sky. He knew this tree. Every curve, every knot. This was where he felt most himself, where nothing could reach him but the wind and the branches.

He reached out, his hand brushing against the rough bark. It was damp from the night’s dew, cool and gritty under his fingertips. He loved the way the texture changed as his hand moved, rough patches, smooth stretches, and those deep grooves where moss had gathered over the years.

With a deep breath, he placed his foot on the first sturdy knot, feeling the coolness of the wood against his sole. His toes gripped the uneven surface as he shifted his weight, feeling the muscles in his legs stretch. The ache was almost immediate, but it was a familiar ache, one he welcomed. He moved slowly at first, savoring each step. His hands followed, gripping higher on the trunk, feeling the oak’s texture shifting as he climbed. Every move was deliberate, a rhythm he knew by heart. Up. Up. Always higher.

The tree creaked softly in response, a slow groan that made his heart beat faster. He paused for a moment, fingers resting against the rough surface. His skin prickled at the quiet, the faint sounds below swallowed by the leaves and branches. The boy moved again, not rushing, but not lingering either. There was no hurry, no reason to be anywhere but here, surrounded by the tree’s steady song.

He climbed higher, pulling himself upward, the strain in his arms and legs now mixing with the excitement building in his chest. The branches above him reached out like fingers, brushing his head and shoulders as he passed. Some were thick and sturdy, others thin and brittle. He learned to navigate them long ago, brushing the smaller twigs aside, careful not to let the leaves drag too harshly against his skin.

He found a wide branch about halfway up, one thick enough to sit on. He paused here, letting his legs hang off the side for a moment, the air cool against his skin. The view here was good, he could see the treetops stretching out before him, but it wasn’t enough. Not yet. He wanted to go higher, to feel the pulse of the sky itself.