The Giving Tree Novels & Stories

The trees started waving again and Theo and I turned the mechanism, slowly making the door open. Oh, ancient trees, reaching for the sky, Whispering secrets as the wind blows by. Your roots run deep, your branches spread wide, Guardians of wisdom, standing side by side. Oh, guardians of the ancient trees, Protectors of all that nature sees. With gradient symbols, their message shows, Balancing harmony as life flows. Finally, the door was fully open and the mechanism stopped. Theo and I massaged the pain throbs off our hands as Sarah tapped the tree and it responded to it.

She shrugs her shoulders and continues eating as if she didn’t have a tiny fireball in the hand a moment ago. “That pretty cool. I have the earth element” “Wait you do since when” I shrug my shoulders since this morning I was planning on telling you this afternoon. I walk up to the tree and knock three times I touch the tree and the tree glows under my palm i thank the tree spirit I turn my palm over where a small seedling is protruding out of my palm very much like Jacqueline’s dancing fireball. “Oh wow that’s cool” I transfer the seedling from my palm back to the earth and pour some bottled water on it I send the remaining earth energy coursing through me back to the earth around the seedl

It wasn't until my first month of college that I found out the entire pack had been calling me a leech behind my back. The nickname came from Sienna Blackwood—Lucas's partner. To every wolf in Silvermoon, I was just some weakling squatting on pack land. They saw me use Lucas's pass, saw the tiny cabin at the edge of his territory, and filled in the blanks themselves. I went to find Lucas, thinking he'd defend me like he used to when we were pups. But he just waved a hand, didn't even look up from whatever he was doing, and said, "It's just a nickname, Elena. Sienna's joking around. You're being too sensitive." Then he added, "Besides, you're always around me. You use my pass, you live a sto

Then a voice echoed. Soft. Ancient. "WELCOME." The group froze. Immediately. Then the tree moved. Not the branches. Not the leaves. The trunk. A face slowly emerged from the bark. Eyes opened. Ancient eyes. Older than kingdoms. Older than crowns. Older than memory. Then the tree smiled. Then: "THE HEIRS HAVE RETURNED." The clearing trembled. Then Darius slowly lifted his hammer. Then: "Trees aren't supposed to talk."

I jolted awake in bed, sweat soaking the sheets, while the pain of being knocked to the ground by my mother still seemed to linger in every limb. I slowed my breathing and forced myself to calm down. The memories of my family blaming me and of my mother killing me with her car replayed again and again in my mind. Then the notification sound from my phone snapped me out of my thoughts. “Charlotte, the firm has taken on a defense case for a plaintiff. The partners assigned you as her lawyer.”

Then I raised my eyes to meet his expectant gaze and spoke. "Geston, let me tell you a story." He froze, clearly not understanding why I would suddenly say that. Ignoring his confusion, I continued. "Long ago, there was a very, very young girl. One winter, the snow fell heavily. She went to a fair with her parents, but the crowd was so thick that she got separated from them. "She stood alone in the bustling street. It was freezing. Snowflakes landed on her face, and she couldn't find her way home. All she could do was cry. She felt as if the whole world had abandoned her.

The decorative tree had been designed to resemble an enormous oak, its trunk wrapped in textured foam over a structural steel frame strong enough to support its own weight. "They’re looking for a ladder now!" Dani called as she returned to the room. "Hold off on that." Cyprus' calm voice sliced through the chaos. Without another word, he unfastened the cuffs of his dress shirt and rolled the sleeves neatly to his forearms. Lovette stared at him. "Mr. Blackwell..." He didn't look away from the tree. "The child's name?" "H-Hazel." He held out his phone without taking his eyes off the little girl. "Take this."

She had her own sky to stand beneath. Back at the quiet of her cabin, that night. Ella sank onto her bed with a deep, weary sigh. Her muscles ached all over her body, her fingers were raw, but her spirit—though bruised—felt steadier than it had been in the past days. She opened her sketchbook again. This time, all she drew was a single tree. Its branches reached high and wide, but its roots were all that mattered: they were thick, sprawling deep into the ground, anchoring it against any storm that pass through.

She smiled, but it was a mirror’s smile, not her own. Esi reached out to stop her. The child whispered: “You’re new here.” Her voice shifted mid-sentence — changing pitch, age, even accent. Tano pulled Esi back. “She’s already been rewritten.” --- At the center of the village stood a Tree of Paper — bark made of woven scrolls, roots made of black thread. The wind didn’t rustle it. It read itself. Constantly. Pages rising and falling like breath. Esi stepped close. One page fluttered loose and hovered in the air before her eyes.

I spat out, hoping to set things straight with the kid. "Now, give me the ring." I ordered and stretched out my hand, not willing to stand here and argue with an immature child. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the gold band which had the letter A inscribed on it. I took it off him and slid it down my finger, careful not to lose it again.