Stormpirate
Sailing the stormy seas..
- Joined
- Sep 8, 2006
- Messages
- 158
Part two:
------------------------
But seeing that massive, moving tree, the roots gripping the soil to propel it forward, and how easily it moved around the other tree trunks, almost without making a sound or disturbing the trees around it, shocked me into a kind of numb stupor. I had a clear shot of the tree as it passed behind and between two others; the roots shot into the ground several feet ahead of it, and it used those anchoring roots to pull itself along. Rage emanated from that tree. I barely registered Ethan running past me, carrying one of the buckets of petroleum.
A roaring sound came from that moving mass, and I heard Paul shout in alarm. Not knowing what else to do, I took a few steps in the direction of the tree, at the same time wondering what I was doing. I heard Paul and Ethan shouting at each other, trying to coordinate the capture. I caught more movement, this time off to my left, and my heart stopped to see another tree, this one with long strips of scarred bark marring its trunk. It moved in much the same way as the first, pulling itself along by its roots. I stood helplessly, wringing my hands. The canopy of tree leaves above me shook hard as the fight between Paul, Ethan, and the first tree raged on. Making up my mind, I dashed back to the truck. There was the other bucket of petroleum, along with another coil of rope and several axes. I grabbed the rope and slung it around my shoulder, and seized the bucket and an axe. I had no idea what I was doing. Several plans tried to take form in my mind as I ran back to the woody area, but nothing seemed sane enough. But what was I kidding. None of this was sane.
A scene from a nightmare greeted me as I ran under the trees. Both trees had converged on Paul and Ethan, and Paul was pinned under the roots of the first tree. Ethan was frantically trying to fight off the second tree and free his friend; panic etched deep lines into his face. He saw me run up and motioned me away. “Get back!” he yelled. “It’s too dangerous. You’ll have to call for back up!”
I shook my head. “You’ll be dead by the time they arrive.” I tossed down the bucket and the rope. Paul was the one in immediate danger; the tree had wrapped its roots around Paul’s legs and was…eating him. Paul’s feet had disappeared inside the tree. He pulled and beat at the roots, trying to find enough leverage to free himself. I ran to him with the axe and started chopping at the tree, at any spot that I could find. The tree screamed and reared back, but did not release Paul. Panic took over at that moment. A flurry of woodchips exploded from the tree. All I could think was, what the hell was I doing? I was fighting a tree that was trying to eat someone. What had happened to normality? I kept chopping at the tree, at the roots that held fast to Paul’s legs. Though my axe blows cut deep, the tree just shook them off. Where was a gas powered chainsaw when you needed one?
I finally hit a soft spot, near the base of the tree. It seemed to have had enough, and backed up enough to allow Paul to escape. As he pulled his legs free, I noticed that he’d lost one of his boots. I frantically searched the ground, fixated on finding his boot. How could a man fight a man-eating tree while wearing only one boot?
I became aware of Paul calling my name. I snapped out of my mania enough to respond. He was lying on the ground, his lower legs a bloody mess, his jeans shredded. “Help Ethan!” he called, wincing and gritting his teeth against the pain. I turned to where I’d last seen Ethan. “Oh, ****,” I breathed. Both trees had converged on Ethan. He was pinned up against three other, regular trees, and had nowhere to go. A bucket of petroleum sat just out of reach of his hands. Branches poked at him, and I could see blood on his face and hands from where I stood, as he fought off the attack.
Acting on instinct and raw panic alone, I grabbed the bucket of petroleum I’d brought with me and ran towards the trees. As I ran, I heard a high pitched whistling sound following me. I looked around in dread, thinking something else was alive and attacking me, until I realized that it was me; I was screaming. I slipped and skidded on the grass and pine needles strewn about the ground and fell to one knee. My knee grazed a rock, and I gasped in pain before pushing myself back up and hobbling towards Ethan. I passed by the other bucket and snatched it up. A few feet away from the trees, I swung one of the buckets and smacked it into the truck of the nearest tree. The huge monstrosity didn’t even pause. I set one of the buckets down and looked in the other one. There wasn’t a shovel or spade or cup resting in the yellowish jelly. The two trees had pinned Ethan even further against the normal trees; if I didn’t act soon, they would crush him. Taking only a second to acknowledge how disgusting the stuff would be, I thrust my hand into the jelly, pulled out a huge, jiggling handful, and smeared it on the tree nearest me. I barely ducked out of the way in time to miss a huge branch, covered with leaves, swat at me as if I were a bothersome gnat. As it were, some of the smaller twigs grazed my cheek, and I hissed in pain. I darted in again, my hand full of cold jelly, and smeared it on the other tree’s trunk. I felt splinters go into my hand as I rubbed against the deep scars. Again and again, I smeared the petroleum on the tree trunks, and again and again I had to duck and sidestep branches that swept down to knock me aside. I wore thin gloves of blood from the numerous cuts. Finally, after what seemed an interminable time, the trees backed off from Ethan, seeing me as the new threat. No longer was I the bothersome gnat; now I was the biting fly, and they meant to kill me.
------------------------
But seeing that massive, moving tree, the roots gripping the soil to propel it forward, and how easily it moved around the other tree trunks, almost without making a sound or disturbing the trees around it, shocked me into a kind of numb stupor. I had a clear shot of the tree as it passed behind and between two others; the roots shot into the ground several feet ahead of it, and it used those anchoring roots to pull itself along. Rage emanated from that tree. I barely registered Ethan running past me, carrying one of the buckets of petroleum.
A roaring sound came from that moving mass, and I heard Paul shout in alarm. Not knowing what else to do, I took a few steps in the direction of the tree, at the same time wondering what I was doing. I heard Paul and Ethan shouting at each other, trying to coordinate the capture. I caught more movement, this time off to my left, and my heart stopped to see another tree, this one with long strips of scarred bark marring its trunk. It moved in much the same way as the first, pulling itself along by its roots. I stood helplessly, wringing my hands. The canopy of tree leaves above me shook hard as the fight between Paul, Ethan, and the first tree raged on. Making up my mind, I dashed back to the truck. There was the other bucket of petroleum, along with another coil of rope and several axes. I grabbed the rope and slung it around my shoulder, and seized the bucket and an axe. I had no idea what I was doing. Several plans tried to take form in my mind as I ran back to the woody area, but nothing seemed sane enough. But what was I kidding. None of this was sane.
A scene from a nightmare greeted me as I ran under the trees. Both trees had converged on Paul and Ethan, and Paul was pinned under the roots of the first tree. Ethan was frantically trying to fight off the second tree and free his friend; panic etched deep lines into his face. He saw me run up and motioned me away. “Get back!” he yelled. “It’s too dangerous. You’ll have to call for back up!”
I shook my head. “You’ll be dead by the time they arrive.” I tossed down the bucket and the rope. Paul was the one in immediate danger; the tree had wrapped its roots around Paul’s legs and was…eating him. Paul’s feet had disappeared inside the tree. He pulled and beat at the roots, trying to find enough leverage to free himself. I ran to him with the axe and started chopping at the tree, at any spot that I could find. The tree screamed and reared back, but did not release Paul. Panic took over at that moment. A flurry of woodchips exploded from the tree. All I could think was, what the hell was I doing? I was fighting a tree that was trying to eat someone. What had happened to normality? I kept chopping at the tree, at the roots that held fast to Paul’s legs. Though my axe blows cut deep, the tree just shook them off. Where was a gas powered chainsaw when you needed one?
I finally hit a soft spot, near the base of the tree. It seemed to have had enough, and backed up enough to allow Paul to escape. As he pulled his legs free, I noticed that he’d lost one of his boots. I frantically searched the ground, fixated on finding his boot. How could a man fight a man-eating tree while wearing only one boot?
I became aware of Paul calling my name. I snapped out of my mania enough to respond. He was lying on the ground, his lower legs a bloody mess, his jeans shredded. “Help Ethan!” he called, wincing and gritting his teeth against the pain. I turned to where I’d last seen Ethan. “Oh, ****,” I breathed. Both trees had converged on Ethan. He was pinned up against three other, regular trees, and had nowhere to go. A bucket of petroleum sat just out of reach of his hands. Branches poked at him, and I could see blood on his face and hands from where I stood, as he fought off the attack.
Acting on instinct and raw panic alone, I grabbed the bucket of petroleum I’d brought with me and ran towards the trees. As I ran, I heard a high pitched whistling sound following me. I looked around in dread, thinking something else was alive and attacking me, until I realized that it was me; I was screaming. I slipped and skidded on the grass and pine needles strewn about the ground and fell to one knee. My knee grazed a rock, and I gasped in pain before pushing myself back up and hobbling towards Ethan. I passed by the other bucket and snatched it up. A few feet away from the trees, I swung one of the buckets and smacked it into the truck of the nearest tree. The huge monstrosity didn’t even pause. I set one of the buckets down and looked in the other one. There wasn’t a shovel or spade or cup resting in the yellowish jelly. The two trees had pinned Ethan even further against the normal trees; if I didn’t act soon, they would crush him. Taking only a second to acknowledge how disgusting the stuff would be, I thrust my hand into the jelly, pulled out a huge, jiggling handful, and smeared it on the tree nearest me. I barely ducked out of the way in time to miss a huge branch, covered with leaves, swat at me as if I were a bothersome gnat. As it were, some of the smaller twigs grazed my cheek, and I hissed in pain. I darted in again, my hand full of cold jelly, and smeared it on the other tree’s trunk. I felt splinters go into my hand as I rubbed against the deep scars. Again and again, I smeared the petroleum on the tree trunks, and again and again I had to duck and sidestep branches that swept down to knock me aside. I wore thin gloves of blood from the numerous cuts. Finally, after what seemed an interminable time, the trees backed off from Ethan, seeing me as the new threat. No longer was I the bothersome gnat; now I was the biting fly, and they meant to kill me.
