A Tree Without Roots Novels & Stories

Maintaining a good distance from the artwork of a tree. The Sacred tree stood magnetically in a field of black soil. It had a large width, to the extent that it's take more then ten grown up's to successfully circle around it. And a hight of a giant. Towering into the skies. It looks dry. Lacking fruits and leaves which in place was human head. Dangling on different stems. A total.coun of more then twenty. "This is....." Luna gulped at the bad vibe that surrounded the tree. "Very scary." Daphne nodded. Borrowing into her embrace. "Why are they people's head on the tree?"

I was not against nature but…. This forest needed to be wiped out. I yelled a powerful scream and diced the roots at its feet which held it in its place. A tree’s strength came from its roots. The tree spread its branches towards my sword, to stop it. But I created another sword with the light emerging out of me.

“Let’s say there is a diseased tree. Would you rather destroy the roots and its branches until there is nothing left or the roots alone?” Taking the glass from him, I wondered where this was going. “The root and its branches. Destroying everything until there is nothing left.” “The council begs to differ. Only the roots, they believe, must be destroyed. The branches must be left alone.” “Won’t the branches be useless if left alone? They would only rotten and affect other trees.” “Exactly. You are brilliant.” “Sometimes, destroying everything is the key to building something new.” “And what has this got to do with Morgan?”

In seven days, everyone who passes by will be reminded: trust has roots, and those who uproot it will hang from the same branch. The Red Tree stands in the center of the square like a guard who never takes a day off. Its bark is cracked, revealing dull red lines that give it its name—they say because its sap resembles blood that has long merged with the earth. Children used to play beneath it, drawing with flat stones on its protruding roots. Today, they hold their parents’ hands tighter.

“How are you drawing me like this?” “You belong to me, Callie. There is no escape…” The sound carried dark undertones, whispers behind hidden screams of pain. “There are no safe places…” My body stopped near a great tree whose thick green roots seemed to pulse with a sinister energy, as though they were draining the vitality of the surrounding earth and channeling it directly into the imposing tree ahead. This tree dominated the landscape, its roots spreading like ravenous tentacles.

The overbearing root ruthlessly apart tore the vast land of Nine Heavens Tribe apart as though a whip had struck from Heaven. Since the whip missed him, the tree roots emerged continuously. “Alex, be careful! There are roots on the left! There are roots on the right too... So many! So many roots have appeared! Ah! There... There are nine of them!” Shado, who was in Alex’s arms, was facing the sky and just happened to see the nine enormous tree roots above her. The entwined roots had countless tinier roots that intertwined with each other, forming an inescapable net so that there was nowhere to escape.

The crack left a space below about three meters wide. However, that is not the case. The problem is when tree roots stick out of nowhere and crawl on the ground. It looked around for Zeno's army and when it found it, the root immediately wrapped itself around its target. It crushes bones in seconds. Cia chuckles seeing some of his troops die. So, he focused his energy on his feet and immediately kicked his feet on the ground. The roots sticking out to the surface of the ground immediately ran aimlessly, as if they were being chased by something. Nahas, it's useless to run if safety is not guaranteed. The roots dry up and turn to ashes.

Their breaths were no doubt held, waiting for the day where he would drink the blood of the ones around him. Though he would be considered arrogant to admit it, he was sure about himself. He had an undying trust in his abilities to keep his sanity, in his willingness to stay grounded. He lifted his eyes to glance at the issue at hand. There were over a hundred trees on the mountain, and none of them had a touch of green on. Their appearances gave off the idea that they were probably too old and unable to make any more leaves or fruits. The trees were buried in the rocky earth, maybe their inability to produce anything was as a result of the nature of the earth they were buried in.

Their distance is too close but their joint weight backs them in keeping their body upright. Then it dawns on them. As the moist grassy lump of soil continues to rattle, the Well of Truth and Knowledge stretches by its diameter until something surreal sprouts out from inside it. It's a stout, pale, single trunk, non-leafy tree foreign to their sight which was once lilacy in color and blossoming with life.

Now she was helping rebuild the place. Life was strange that way. Then he looked back at the painting. The roots. The branches. The growth. The legacy. Everything the painting represented. Everything he had spent his life trying to create. Not a building. Not a gallery. A place where people could grow. A place where they could become more than they believed possible. And for the first time, he realised something that brought him unexpected comfort. The tree would survive without the gardener. The roots were deep enough now. Strong enough.