Under The Oak Tree Amazon Novels & Stories

The trunk snaps in the middle with a loud boom, the top half crashing into the dirt. Then, the air changes. A strange pulse vibrates through the mud. It feels like a heavy heartbeat throwing a wave through the entire forest floor. The water in the creek stops flowing downward. It begins to lift, tiny silver droplets floating up into the air toward the canopy. The ground beneath my paws rumbles. The roots of the giant trees groan, bending and twisting as if they are made of soft wax instead of old wood. The oak tree holding Betty begins to lean, its top branches dipping low toward the ground. She is clinging to the bark, her body shaking violently.

[So as I was saying, those oak trees were capable of predicting the future. Nero gave his master a side glance to check if she had any plans to interrupt him again. It was only when he confirmed that Audrey was already behaving like a good child, did he went on telling his story again. By that time, only the sound of Nero' soft meowing, as well as the sound made by the turning of the pages of the book, could be heard in the library. "MEOW... MEOW... MEOW... MEOW.." [One day, one of the talking oak trees saw that one from my race, the antediluvian cats, will going to bring utter distraction to the world by releasing all the creatures of the dark from their restriction.]

Most striking is the tree's response—its leaves shiver and rustle though no wind stirs them, branches bending subtly toward Maris as if straining to hear her better. I pause at the clearing's edge, unsure whether to interrupt what appears to be a private communion. But as I watch, thin tendrils of golden energy flow from the tree into Maris's palms, spiraling up her arms like living vines before disappearing beneath her skin. The sight is both beautiful and unsettling. Before I can retreat, Maris speaks without turning. "The oak remembers when this land was ocean floor." Her voice carries easily across the clearing. "Its roots touch water that hasn't seen sunlight in ten thousand years."

Wearing a white dress, ending just above my knees, I went out of the house and locked it, so that I can peacefully enjoy my book under the oak tree. That oak tree has always been a special place of mine. It gives me a sense of tranquility whenever I lay my back on its trunk while words flowed from my book towards my brain. I've read that an oak tree is one of the most loved trees in the world. It represents strength, morale, resistance and knowledge. It is also a symbol of honor, nobility and wisdom due to its size and longevity. The sky was bright, but the rays of the sun weren't that harmful even though it's summer already. There were a few clouds up in the never-ending sea of blue. In fro

I go until I’m far above the ground, far enough that looking straight down leaves me feeling dizzy. Don’t look down, don’t look down. I tell myself and look straight ahead. I’ve wrapped my arms around the tree trunk and I’m gripping tight. It’s some kind of oak tree, with large wide branches and a sturdy trunk. It’s thick with leaves in midsummer and they rustle gently in the light wind. Below is the hard baked ground and a little way away, the pool that comes down from the waterfall before the river rushes away through the forest.

I needed to locate a safe haven as soon as possible… I came across an oak tree with a branch that was low enough for me to climb. Without thinking, I hopped onto the limb, landing on my belly. The burn from the bark scraped my skin causing me to wince; I bit my tongue to prevent myself from yelling. Uneven tree husks tugged on the top of my underwear as I rushed to pull myself up any branch strong enough to support my weight. I continued climbing almost to the top of the tree, where any branch higher would surely break. Content with the last branch, I sat down and curled my legs into the fetal position; hiding behind the trunk of the tree as I attempted to lower my chances of getting noticed

About the oak tree in August and the specific quality of the afternoon light coming through the full canopy and the way it falls on the sidewalk below in broken pieces, all warmth and abundance, the tree is at its most generous, giving everything it has. I pick up my charcoal from the cup on the counter. Open my sketchbook. Draw while he talks. The oak tree in August afternoon light, seen through Edmund's eyes on a porch in the Tremé, was rendered in my hand in a penthouse in Manhattan. Three times removed from the original. Still true. We tell our fathers on the same day, not together, but separately. But the same day, which feels right, both of them learn on the same Thursday that somethin

“Well, they’d better be back early, ain’t nothing but wood out here.” Sam shook his head, smiling. Kurt sat on the hard dirt, head buried in his knees. “Nothing special about this mission ain’t that right Kurt?” “Yeah Sam, nothing but trees.” Both men chuckled, looking at the trees surrounding them. The rest of the crew walked in, Winston carrying broken tree parts. “We found a spot capt,” White said, helping Winston to arrange the wood ready to make fire. “Cozy?” “okay actually.” Tyler answered, shrugging her shoulders.

She was not the victim. She was the one holding the pen. She reached out, her hand dripping with silver and gold fluid and grabbed the root of the oak tree. She did not try to block the data; she opened the floodgates letting her grief, anger and memory pour into the tree's network like a virus. "I'm editing the ending Miller " she whispered. The ancient oak tree screamed, the wood splitting down the center, as a gold discharge tore through the bark racing down into the root system like a lightning strike.

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