Eating From Our Roots Novels & Stories

“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?”

Despite the eerie atmosphere, the roots presented a potential means of escape. The roots, now rigid and bony, protruded from the ground like a macabre ladder leading upward. A silent understanding passed among us as we recognized this as the only way to escape the valley; a climb guided by the cold embrace of the dead roots. Dead, eerie looking trees. Although the roots looked skeletal and lifeless, they provided a sturdy grip as we ascended. The air shifted, the ominous heat dissipating as we climbed, leaving the molten abyss behind but not forgotten. The heat still clung to us. The sweat still dripping.

It’s life growing while the world tries to pull the ground out from under my feet. I’m sitting on Marco’s cabin couch, wrapped in a thick blanket, while Rosa moves around the small kitchen with a calm only she seems to have. There’s something about the way she chops vegetables, stirs a pot, tastes the broth, that feels grounding. As if the simple act of preparing food is her way of saying that, no matter how chaotic things get, some things are still solid. — You need to eat a little — she says, without pressure. — Even if it’s just the broth.

"That's the way some truths come. Not by consensus. But by fatigue." Elira continued, "We quit arguing if it was fair. We simply observed that it always returned." --- 3:05 PM — Sector T, Root-Vault Listening Station Subterranean, microphones had been placed close to the growth roots of test seedlings. Playback speakers fed low murmurs—frequency echoes and root-responsive pulses. A technician gestured towards the readout. "This one's responding more when we feed it annotated speech rhythms instead of musical ones." Caelan scowled. "You think it's recognizing?"

The pressure beneath us intensified until the air itself felt compressed. Kaelith stepped closer to the edge of the clearing, studying the movement. “It’s not random. It’s selective.” “Selective how?” I asked. He pointed downward. “The roots aren’t all rising equally.” I followed his gaze. He was right. Some roots were dissolving into the darkness below. Others were being pulled upward intact. And some—only some—were resisting the pull entirely, trembling violently as though refusing to be taken. The entity saw it too. Its breath hitched.

"I swear, without any bread or pasta, a person might just die. Roasting meat endlessly to eat is so greasy..." "Just grab some grass and chew on it to get rid of the greasy taste," Rafael suggested, reaching down to pull up a handful of wild grass. It was edible, and this time of year, it was tender. "Eat it. Quickly." "It's bitter. I'm not eating it," Dylan refused, declining Rafael's offer. Rafael didn't mind and ate it himself. Even the roots were edible, and the tender leaves, though slightly bitter, were just what he needed to cut the grease. It was surprisingly tasty.

It was a treasure that couldn't be found in the modern world. “ Eldest Brother, come here!” I called out, walking towards a group of cassava plants. “ What's this? Can these leaves be eaten?” he asked, following me. “ Older brother, you should dig into the roots because it's a root crop. Only that part can be eaten.” “ Ah, so something like this exists! But how come the villagers haven't touched it?” It was evident that this part of the land hadn't been tampered with by human activities.

Rhea's Pov My eyes darted to the plate, then back to her face. I swallowed, keeping my voice light, “What’s in them?” She seemed delighted at the question, as though waiting for me to ask, “Oh, nothing strange. A bit of sun-leaf for clarity, ground moonseed for strength, and crushed honey root to sweeten the taste. All natural and healing. We eat them often here.” I tilted my head, as though pondering carefully. Every ingredient she listed was harmless, “That sounds wonderful.” I said slowly, allowing cheerfulness to coat my words, “I’m open to trying new things so why not?”

Asap! but it wasn't. He just stared at the tree in silence, he wanted to climb but he wasn't sure if the leaves are edible so he stopped and walked away from the tree then he saw a plant, he recognized it and ran towards the plant, it was from a holy basil plant and he knew it's leaves were edible so he started eating them hungrily. He ate as if there would be no tomorrow. When he finished eating, he burped and continued walking in search for water. He was thankful for the plant and he had regain enough energy that would last him for days but he knew he had to find an animal to eat, he couldn't depend and survive on plants because plants contains cellulose that Human organs can't digest, on