The tree bore a strange resemblance to two knob kneed women finishing a
bicycle race, and the leaves shone and shimmered like no other in the wood,
or in the valley nearby. Because of this almost luminescent, dancing quality,
they were a curiosity to all local inhabitants save one... the person who lived in the strange old tree.
Let us first note that this person, if they could be called such, remained as much a curiosity as their
home - which was built inside, beneath and about the wondrous tree. If you were to stare into the
wizened face or observe the movements of this age old forest dweller, it would be impossible by
most accounts to guess age or sex or even understand their height and girth.
The fine folks of this region could not remember a time when the being had not been a part of this place,
and they all knew him as Mr. Bumblebeard. They referred to him this way because s/he wore no clothes,
and wrapped only in a long and tangled beard, which seemed to grow each day and catch more useful
things in its brambling length. The Mr. was attached as an attempt at civilizing this fey spirit of ambiguous
origin and body.
In the evenings the locals gave the tree a wide berth, because the leaves would quake and shiver, and
eerie music would drift out on the breeze from somewhere in the depths of the house. The sounds were like
a harpsichord played under water, and deep throbbing bass rumblings. Some nights a quiet, dark voice -
like a young woman's - sang queerly and uttered noises which seemed at once forbidding and magnetic.
The songs carried a long way out, even to the valley nearby, and spread gooseflesh over the skin of all those
who heard them. (to be continued...)
© 2009
