Under The Oak Tree -- Read Novels & Stories

The morning air should have been sweet. It should have tasted like the promise of a new life. But as the sun rose over the First Den, the sky took on a dull, metallic sheen. The golden wheat fields were no longer dancing. They stood still, as if they were afraid to move. In the center of the valley, the Great Oak Tree stood tall. Its leaves were a deep, vibrant violet, pulsing with the soft rhythm of Kaima’s heartbeat. She was the wind. She was the soil. Every breath the wolves took was a gift from her.

Mountains and a city. I sat against a huge oak tree in this small clearing, a bottle of water lying on my lap. A withered book sat in my hands. I wasn't sure what the title was, nor did I really care. I read the words greedily, a desperate attempt to escape the world I lived in. The sound of snapping branches ripped me from my thoughts.

[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.]

" 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...

Curiosity got the best of me and I read the torn page in my hand. The paper was old, and yellow-colored from the ages that it’s been sitting in here for, and molded on the edges, but nonetheless, readable. I sat down crossed-legged, not giving a thought that the sun would set any minute and darkness would swallow the light any moment I waste my time satisfying my curiosity. “...under the cold sun, there comes a fair lady falling from the sky. The maiden lay there basking under the heated sun, upon her arrival, the trees made way. A huge gust of wind came waving in arc, cutting everything it touches. The tree…”

I am the same old me". Linking her arm in mine, we walked down the hallway. Then, finally, it was time for the ritual. The air was cool in Briarwood as we made our way to the sacred Oak Tree. Millions of stars were sprinkled over the black velvet sky, some large but most tiny pinpricks. The moon loomed largely, full and yellow, glowing, lighting the way for the wolves who gathered beneath it—their howls echoing through the night.

The sound of soft weeping draws my attention to one of the few remaining trees on the lot, a large, aged oak that at this distance I can see a patch of pale skin contrasting with the tree's wood. I change the course of thoughts of the past with the inopportune curiosity of discovering who is hiding, I look over my shoulder confirming the endless line of associates sucking up to the most important new name within the mafia, with his pet dog beside him feigning pain with the loss. The funereal atmosphere is not strange, the cold wind raises some fallen leaves despite the clear sky at that moment the announcement of the storm lurks around the corners like the darkness in my chest, hidden by the

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

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.

As soon as the car stopped rolling, Dominic gave Leesa a quick thumbs up—the signal they had agreed on that she should proceed as planned. She grabbed the ivory box from her bag and got out of the car. After waiting for a truck to flash by, she hurried across the road and found the spot Dominic had described to her. The old oak tree—almost twice as thick as any of its neighbors—was just barely visible from the highway. Its gnarled branches spread wide in every direction, and Leesa could imagine the huge canopy of shade they would provide when the leaves grew back. She imagined the tree had probably been left standing sometime far back in the past while its neighbors were felled for lumber an