Under The Oak Tree Novels & Stories

But every year, at the same time, one of her comrades delivered a pack of shortbread cookies. At 60, I taught my final class. Before the bell rang, I looked out toward the hillside. A flourishing willow tree stood there. My son lay beneath it. "Cyrus, Dad misses you." —The End

Their sprawling branches danced gracefully to the tunes of the nocturnal breeze, casting playful, shifting shadows on the ground below, creating a mesmerizing dance of light and darkness. Within the heart of this verdant sanctuary, Silas had pinpointed a location revered by his kind and known intimately only to a handful of werewolves: a serene clearing, protected and encircled by venerable oak trees. These mighty oaks, having braved countless storms and witnessed numerous cycles of life and death, bore the marks of time on their gnarled barks. If one paid close attention, it felt as if these trees whispered sagas of bygone eras, their hushed voices carrying tales of valor, love, and betraya

As we approached the front entrance, I turned to face Rico, "Can we go back to the oak tree again?" "Why? Aren't you hungry?" He asked. "Yes I am but I feel drawn to the tree. I want to say goodnight before I sleep," I answered honestly, despite how weird I sounded. "Okay then, let's go." He said and we walked side by side again to the oak tree. The oak tree stood tall and majestic, its branches reaching out as if embracing the moon above. The air around it felt charged with a certain energy, a quiet strength that resonated deep within me.

I am not worried about getting lost, I know the place like the back of my hand. When I reach the forest, I take in a deep breath and let it out before continuing to walk. It does not take me very long to reach the giant oak tree. It even has my initials that I carved into it the first time I ran here to get away from everyone and everything. The almost full moon sits in the sky and gives the night an eerie feel. I sit right under the tree with my back laid against the trunk. The ground is dirty but I gladly rest my legs on it.

- 24 - Out in the woods, deep in the forest, where the trees get so dense that the undergrowth has never been touched by the rays of the sun, there, beneath the roots of an ancient oak tree, lies a mound covered by a thick layer of dried leaves. Hidden among the ancient roots is a small opening. At first glance, one might think it’s just a small burrow, a lair where bears spend their winter, but looks can be deceiving, particularly when enchantment is at work.

Those woods became our kingdom. I remember the day Ava decided to teach me how to climb the old oak tree that stood in the center of our usual meeting spot. It was massive, its trunk so wide it would take three of us holding hands to circle it. The bark was rough and gray, covered in places with soft green moss that felt like velvet under our fingers.

The time I was wasting. Evans was still out there. I straightened and stepped over the unconscious outlaws, looking around. I noticed it then. A tree. In the center of the clearing, there was a single, enormous oak. The wood underneath was scarred with something that made my stomach turn, and its bark was split. Blood. Not merely splashed. Not merely smeared. **Sculpted.** Three sharp, deep phrases that seemed to have been sunk like inhuman claws into the wood.

But I just shrug it off. “Daddy, what’s that huge tree?” Andre voice draws Carlton’s Attention from me. All eyes trails where he’s pointing at and there’s gigantic tree at a far end of the forest. Even as we are standing up on a wooden bridge it’s still so tall and has its branch sprouting out everywhere. The tree is so magnificent and would really get anyone bedazzled. The oak tree. “That’s the oak tree.” Carlton says and someone squeals beside Andre. Griffin. Then with his eyes widen in amazement he exclaims, “The royal tree of the forest!”

Thorne: It had been five years since the death of his mom and abduction of his mate, and just as he had spent every evening since her funeral, Thorne stood before at the tree planted where his mother was buried, in her honor. The tree, a sturdy silver oak, stands tall and proud, its bark shimmering with a soft, ethereal glow. Despite being only five years old, it has grown remarkably fast, its branches stretching towards the sky like outstretched arms, providing a canopy of shade and comfort. The leaves, a vibrant green, rustle softly in the breeze, releasing a gentle whisper of wisdom and peace.

How many times had they put themselves in danger while I was too focused on war plans and elder meetings to notice? I stayed far enough back that they wouldn't hear me. Close enough to intervene if something went wrong. The trees grew thicker. The light grew dimmer. Shadows stretched long and dark across the forest floor. Still, the children kept running. Finally, they stopped. A massive oak tree loomed ahead. Ancient and gnarled. Its roots twisted up from the ground like frozen snakes. Its branches spread wide, blocking out what little remained of the evening sky. Carl and Karin dropped to their knees beneath it.