Under Oak Tree Novels & Stories

He offered his wide hand, “Let me help you.” “I can help myself.” I stood, and shook off the dirt off my skirt. He just shrugged, “Okay.” He continued and went under the oak. It was only a bit higher than Gabriel, but taller for me that I was able to raise my head high and see its perfect oddity. Its shrunken trunk and all that was connected to it had perfect shade of homey brown and its foliage was thick, but there were spaces that allowed rays of sunshine to pass through it.

The Phoenix Oak Tree was a huge oak tree at the end of our village but it was covered in briars and ferns and bushes. No one would think someone lived there or it was even habitable. But inside was a portal basically the Phoenix had her own world in that tree but she could close it or open with one of her feathers . I hummed a calling we used for her it was a simple tune but Celtic but the words were always a warning sometimes you venture away from your path but there’s always a match made for you

" Serina firmly said while Paul nodded at her, promising that this must happen, at whatever cost that hinders on the way. Then both of them walk out together from the shade of the oak tree. "It was a promise witnessed by this century-old tree." "I doubt that tree is that old." "K-Town had lots of history and myths!" "Yeah, I know...kinda weird on how non-sense some of the myths are." "The tree witnesses us, so you better do it, unless you want to be buried." Thus, the promise at the first of September started at the grass field, below the oak tree were two people that had bonded deeper than tree roots, made a promise unto one another...

Mother Nature does some of her finest work this time of year and I absolutely love the crisp air. Peyton and I continue to walk on into the woods just ways enjoying one another's company and conversation. I step behind a very large and old Oak tree and undress, placing my clothes inside of a hollow log that had probably fallen a very long time ago. You could tell by the many layers of moss that had grown on it over the many years since.

Oak walked with a little gap in between them to avoid holding hands. That night, Oak who usually sleeps at the sight of bed, spend some time lying awake. "I am afraid I am liking Phet too much.", Oak mused to himself and then looked over at the opposite dorm through the window near his bed. " Phet, you don't know what you are doing to me.", he said looking at the empty balcony, save for some clothes put to dry.

Inadvertently, I’d picked a battlefield laden with weapons. And oak was the most powerful wood of all. I kept hold of the broken branch in my hand, hoping that the snapped edge, torn into multiple points, would work as well as a whittled stake. Dragging myself up the slight incline with heaving breaths and fumbling feet, I searched for an oak tree. It was harder in the winter, harder to determine branch from branch that it was to determine leaf from leaf. I couldn’t see one, and had to hope that the branch in my hand would suffice when I heard footsteps behind me. I stilled, quieting my loud breathing. Silently, I slipped the blade out from under my jeans.

"But we must be quick, or else it'll catch up with us. Come on, I'll show you what I found." "What have you found?" asked Okayo, feeling relieved. "The plant Oboo instructed us to fetch?" "Yes. Certainly. Come and see." He held Okayo's hand like a father to a child and walked him a few paces away into a grove. "See. Here it is," he said pointing at a tree-let on the ground. "This small thing on the ground?" asked Okayo in a demeaning tone. "Yes. This is it," replied Okech. Just then the python reappeared. "Pick it. It's your onus to carry it," instructed Okech.

They walked in comfortable silence, the only sound being the rustling of leaves and the soft creaking of tree branches. Meanwhile, under the sprawling oak tree near the soccer field, Tyler's friends huddled closer, their voices barely above a whisper as they planned their next move. The darkness seemed to amplify their intentions, casting long shadows that stretched like grasping fingers. The tree's branches loomed above them, its leaves rustling ominously in the wind.

Then he crouched and unwrapped the larger one. The painting was larger than I had expected. Two feet by three, oil on canvas, the tree in three-quarter view against a particular quality of afternoon sky — the kind of sky that was specific to the San Gabriel Valley, clear and high and pale at the horizon. The tree itself was a California oak, old, its crown spreading in the way of something that had decided long ago to take the space it needed.

I stood up and went to the sink to rinse my cup before putting it away. I went out through the back door that led to my back yard.The view was spectacular. My cottage was perched at the top of a very high hill, and my back yard gave me a breathtaking view of the whole vast forest filled land. Rooted deeply on the edge of the cliff was an ancient oak tree that towered high, over thirty feet and leaning over like it was going to topple but it stood strong. A naturally made hole was embedded into the tree where I could reach it easily.