Benn Flore An actual Christmas story Smashwords Edition Copyright © 2011 Benn Flore Smashwords Edition License Notes This book is for personal use. This e-book may not be resold or given away. Should you wish to share with others, then buy for each a copy of his/her own. Should you wish to read this book through someone else offering it to you, go to Smashwords.com to purchase a copy of your own. We thank you very much for the respect shown for the copyright of the author. Published by Florad Publishing ISDN 978-94-91599-10-1 An actual Christmas story "How long this dense forest has been here, is what I would like to know," said the old oak. "Whose is it? I have been here now, what would it be, sixty years. Surrounded by species and various scum that has come here carried by the wind. Who was here first? Methinks I am the oldest by rights. And there is something very different ... what is that mechanical hum that I hear down there? " Not far from him was a lot of overgrown beech. Surely the same age, but fit for its age. "Hello, we beech also have our rights. My father was here long before my time . And without a doubt my grandfather was too, and the father of my grandfather. We beech are supposedly archtrees of this great forest." "Oh you, with your smooth bark," growled the oak. "No arguing boys," squeaked a slender poplar, "there is room enough for everyone." The beech grimaced. "Weakling. You cannot choose. Your poplars sway with all winds." Then he cocked his head. "Indeed I do not know what that hum down there is either." The birch, a misfit in its white bark, felt offended: "Pooh, room for everyone? You can talk. You are big and powerful. Your grow branches all the way up into the sky. Do you not realize that you steal away the light from the little ones? " "You should not complain, freeloader," said the oak. "You catch all the rain that drips from our leaves. Anyway, why would you want broad daylight, with your pure white skin? Be happy that we watch over you. You do not know what is good for you." Two slender Alders, close together, tried not to get involved in the verbal attack. "Shut up," whispered the male, "otherwise they will soon start on us." The chestnut turned up with a niggling question: "Could anyone say how this forest ever came about? I mean, were we planted in the beginning or did we just happen to grow? Not that I have anything to complain about, though I prefer us chestnuts to keep to ourselves. Beech and oak though, well, so be it. But who shall call a halt to the wild growth?” He looked sideways, outraged. "We get more and more problems with pine trees." "It all started with a small seed," Madam poplar said certainly, "But who might ever have planted it and why, is a mystery." A small bonsai tried to say something, but was laughed away, "Vain creature." "Who makes sure that we get our daily dose of sunlight and gives us water at the right time? There must be a tree somewhere with invisible leaves, behind the blue sky, that watches over us. I am convinced. But now for something completely different. That hum that you are talking about is getting closer. An annoying sound. It gnaws at my roots." "A heavenly tree." The branches of the beech shook with laughter, "If such a thing actually existed, why would such a monstrosity have been planted over there in the corner? A thing with needles like that instead of branches. How that thing ever came to live in the forest and why is a mystery to me . With its sharp needles and pointed head. It is not at home here in our climate." The whole forest laughed spitefully. "Shut up," whispered the nervous male alder again,"or later they will start on us," "It is a freak," agreed the chestnut, it’s heavy branches drooping threateningly. "It might know more of this strange hum." The poplars rustled in a dignified manner. "Well. As long as it does not misbehave with its needles and knows how to adapt it is welcome. Provided it gets leaves next year, although it is not as good looking as me, of course. Behold, how my leaves shine in the sun. But never mind, now the hum is really too loud. Highly irritating. I fear I may pass out." Suddenly the oak started shaking. And the chestnut. Just like the beech. "What's happening down there?" cried all three vexed in unison. The beech saw it first, "That sound! They are sawing at my feet!" "My foundations are shifting," the chestnut tree moaned. "They are tampering with my roots," the oak shouted out. It was too late. The poplar sank first with much clamour to the ground. The two alders fell into each others arms and tried as long as possible to keep standing without roots. "We are struck down," groaned the forest. "Here is another marked one," The last trees still standing heard a strong male voice say, "Beautiful wood. Powerfully tall. Oak, chestnut and beech. They burn like hell. A small poplar though, gives very little . " Had the great trees that caught the wind remained standing, then they might have been able to learn something about forest management. "Look, a beautiful fir tree," they would have heard a pure voice say, "which we did not notice, but we will dig her out, with rootball and all. Thus will she keep living. We will plant her in the middle of the square, hung with glittering jewels as big as balls, and bright lights, so that every passerby can respectfully see her standing. " The Christmas tree has radiated throughout the world as a symbol of eternal life ever since the day power and bravado ended as firewood.