The Giving Tree Novels & Stories

Ariana opened her eyes. And there it was. A tree. Tall. Still. Real. Her breath hitched. “I did that.” The girl didn’t respond. Ariana stepped toward it slowly. Relief starting to creep in. “I can fix this,” she whispered. “I can rebuild everything.” She reached out. Her fingers brushing against the bark. It felt real. Solid. Alive. Her chest loosened slightly. “I can bring them back.” The moment she said it— The tree twitched.

After he ate and had some coffee, he headed to Walmart to look for a small tree and some other decorations. ************************* Quinn had never thought of himself as a dragon person, but when he was on the internet, he ran across Treasured OOAKS and found a dragon that called to him. It was silver gray with green eyes and a green tail. The bark-like skin made him think of the willow tree. The tail branched out like the willow tree’s branches. Quinn had to have one for his tree, so he ordered two, one for his place and one for Willow to put in her house.

he rasped. "I’m trying to save you," I cried. He reached for me. "It’s too late." I screamed and fell to the ground, covering my ears. Then silence. When I looked up, a tree stood before me. Huge. Silver bark. Glowing faintly. The Resurrection Tree. A beast stepped out of the dark. Seven feet tall, fur black as night, with glowing red eyes. "Who seeks the bark?" it growled. I stood. "I do. Lily of Greko Pack."

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.

We carry Eli — not drag, carry — out of the noisy, joyful second classroom, past Hope, to the base of the big Tree where Moira is buried and the white vine still blooms. The Tree opens its roots without being asked. A hollow forms, just big enough for a man to lie down. Eli lies down. Jonah crawls in beside him, despite Creek’s soft protest. Silas sits at Eli’s feet, hands on his ankles. The Tree does not take. It shares. Green light runs up Eli’s arms, into his chest. His hair, which had gone white again, darkens a shade. His breathing evens. Loan repaid, the Tree hums through the crown, not to me, to him. Stay.

I asked, my voice trembling with a mix of apprehension and wonder. Elysia gestured toward the majestic tree that stood at the center of the garden. Its branches swayed gently as if beckoning us closer. "Come, my child. The answers you seek lie within the sacred memories of this tree." Intrigued, I followed Elysia toward the tree, the grass beneath my feet soft and cool. As we approached, I noticed the intricate carvings on the tree's trunk, depicting scenes of love, growth, and the passage of time.

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.

I looked around at the little details we’d pieced together—soft blankets, labeled baskets, the tiny rocking elephant in the corner—and let the silence wrap around me like a second skin. I placed the new carving above the nameplate that simply read: LOVE. The tree and the word together, side by side. And I realized then: That’s what we were giving this child. Roots. And something to grow toward.

There was somebody underneath OUR tree. The tree that Nana and Papa called symbol of their love. It will be mine one day... and I will care for OUR tree... Oaktree. The tree was here before Papa brought the land. The government was distributing land at a very low rate on the side of the hill, so Papa seized the opportunity without asking his angry parents. This is a euphemism because it was on the schedule area with few local tribes nearby to communicate. This is how Nana and Papa meet.

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.