The Giving Tree Book Novels & Stories

"Don't act like we haven't witnessed each other's orgasms. But no, I am not giving you an orgasm, I am handing you a book that is guranteed to make you orgasm. It's dark, so fucking dark, but I creamed at least once every chapter while reading this book, sis." I finally look down at the book she is handing me. The cover is dark, and it has a tree on it, if the title is anything of importance, it is an oak tree. "Enter the Black Oak?" I look up at her, a quizzical eyebrow raised. "How can a tree make you orgasm?"

The Phoenix Tree spoke calmly, "Haha, there’s no need to worry so much, young one. Just focus on fulfilling your purpose." As the tree finished speaking, a few leaves gently trembled and drifted into the void. Adrian’s eyes lit up at the sight, and he eagerly reached out to claim them all. But the Phoenix Tree’s voice returned, warning, "Greed is endless, boy. Do you think you can take all these leaves? Do you believe each is filled with my precious essence?"

The book was opened, walking with the breeze sending my hair dancing behind me. The sounds got louder, my head picking up sure I was so near to my tree. My face fell along with the book I was carrying as I ran with my heart as if to break. My beautiful tree, my lovely tree. They had cut it, they cut it. The tears filled my eyes, as if they cut a part of my soul. Why? Why? They cut it so short, kneeling on the tree trunk, just one clean cut. My hand came to my chest as my tear fell on the tree. I shook my head, wiping away my tears.

So much so that it made me tear up. “Is everything okay?” She closed her book and sat up. I shook my head. “It’s fine. Any way you can tone down the power?” Chuckling, Mom shook her head. “It’s not me. It’s the tree. He’s a transplant from the Fey Realm and likes to show the earth how superior he is. Did you want to go to another room?”

One new leaf unfurled on the great tree. Its shape was unmistakable. A tiny lantern. Growing beside countless others. And somewhere, in a quiet home far away, a child opened a book for the very first time— never knowing that, at that very moment... a single golden petal had found its way to their window. 🌳✨📖

I am not a key for a machine. They jumped under the leaves of the giant trees. A golden beam hit the ground inches behind Junes heel. The grass behind her turned into gold instantly. Inside the forest the air was different. The trees were breathing. The leaves moved,. It was not because of the wind. They leaned toward June as she ran past them. The vines on the ground moved back to give her a path. The forest was grown from her fathers DNA. The forest knew her. It loved her. "The trees are protecting us " Patience gasped. She leaned against a tree trunk that was pulsing with a light.

Jaden walked into my bathroom, then he looked through the window. “A mother and children used as metaphor could only mean a tree. Yes he’s talking about the tree at the back of this building” I darted off to the tree, I saw the Kitchen head walking close to that tree. I ran but she picked the book. “Now handover the book to me” I ordered in a tensed voice. “Here you go ma’am” She gave me the book and continued walking. I sighed out of relief. I quickly ran and got petrol. Soaking the book in it, I used a lamp to light the book. It burned, I saw black shadows disappearing into thin air.

she asked, looking at me. “Yes I know the Golden forest," I answered. “Good but do you know what's done in it?" she asked. "Dreams come true,” I said. "What kinds of dreams?” she asked and I found that a little weird. "All,” I said while she shook her head. "No come let me show you,” she said, leading me to this tree. She began to tell me that it was a tree that could rewrite bonds. If I were not sure about Zion or still having feelings for Claus

It would sit on a shelf where the sun could find it in the afternoon, where dust would gather kindly, like memory, and where a child—curious, untaught—might open it one day not because they were told to, but because the world whispered them toward it. And if they asked, "Was she real?"—someone might answer: "She was. She walked. And we are here because of it." Back in the Mountains—Nya's Final Offering She found the tree just past a glade where mist clung to ferns like forgotten lullabies. It was tall. Not ancient. Not new. Somewhere in between. She approached it slowly, running her hand across the bark. It pulsed under her touch—not with flame, but with story.

It was a picture book of the story Little Red Riding Hood. “What happened in the story?” I asked him. He pointed at the book. “This is a tree po, tita Crimson.” “Mhm-hmm, and then?” I urged him to continue while brushing his hair softly. “And then, Daddy and I picked apples from the tree.” Maikling tugon niya. I bit my lower lip and let out a soft chuckle. “Really? You were in the story too? What about tita, nand'yan din ba ako?” Tanong ko na ikinatango niya nang paulit-ulit. He flipped the pages, seems like he's trying to find something on the book.