It’s far more gruesome than The Giving Tree and I suppose the moral is, too.
I grew up in a village in England just on the border of New Forest. The forest was my playground as a child. We’d play hide and seek between the ancient beeches and oaks—trees so old they’d seen dozens of generations of children duck behind their trunks for centuries before me.
About twenty years ago, I was playing such a game with my twin brother, Thomas, and the Rooney boys. Morning fog had rolled in from nowhere and suddenly I was wanting to be found. I lost my bearings quick. The entire forest suddenly looked the same—skeletal branches, rotting logs, a blanket of crunchy oak leaves that the foggy dew had now softened to silence my steps.
My mum always told me to sit tight if I got lost. That’s the most likely way to be found. I was smart for a ten-year-old, or so I thought. I stopped stumbling and sat myself down, my back braced against a mossy oak trunk. I did what any kid would do to pass the time and I started picking at the carpet of moss. After pulling off one handful in particular, I froze.
Under the moss, there were axe marks in the tree trunk. The wood past the bark where the axe had notched the tree wasn’t fresh and blond. The markings were old. Ancient. And they sent stories spinning into my mind.
There’s a legend in New Forest, one that’s been told for countless centuries. There lies a tree in these woods. One that can grant nearly any wish. If you asked it for gold, jewels or even love, it would happily return these things.
But the tree was a trickster. You see, nothing it gave you was conjured from thin air. If you wished for gold, it was taken from someone else. You may now be wealthy, but a baron might come looking for your head.
Story has it that a man once asked for the crown of King Edward II. His wish was granted, but a fortnight later the English army broke down his door and pulled him apart with horses.
But drunks and foolish men didn’t seem to understand. They took the risk. They asked the tree for wealth, and power and vengeance.
One day a group of villagers ventured into the woods with axes determined to put an end to the circus. They planted their feet, hefted their axes and swung, but it was one of the last things they ever did.
The tree could infect your mind. Sink its teeth into souls. It’s how it stole gold and murdered noblemen. Legend has it, it’s pollen would infect the brains of a host. So, when these men swung their axes, they only got one notch. After that, they swung for each other’s necks.
Nobody dared touch the tree again, but what they did do was make it near impossible to find. They destroyed the trail that led to it. Decades passed, and the tree became legend. Nobody cared enough to find it in an expansive forest. It was a needle in a haystack. And just like that, the tree had fallen into fable until I pulled that moss off its trunk.
I looked up at the tree, fog blew through its branches. “Are you The Taking Tree?” I asked nervously.
There was no response. I let out a sigh of relief and looked back down to the forest, waiting for Thomas or one of the Rooneys to appear. But then, something caught my eye.
The moss on the tree trunk was glowing red. I crab-walked backwards in a panic and stayed staring at the scarlet light. Several seconds passed and I crawled forward and peeled away another sheet of the heavy moss.
There were words glowing on the trunk of the tree. The way the letters shined and glimmered was like the stenciling of The One Ring when Gandalf pulled it from Frodo’s fire.
I stared in disbelief as I read. The words were in older English. Shakespearian.
“I giveth what thee wisheth,” glowed the letters. My heart was pounding in my chest. A nervous excitement rolled through my stomach. This couldn’t be… this couldn’t be…
Oh, but it was. I thought about just running away, but I couldn’t. This was too good of an opportunity. I knew the tree was a trickster, but I was smart too, or so a ten-year-old was liable to think.
I’d have to play it safe. Small asks. Things that if they went missing, no one would care. Or at least things no one important would care…
There was a boy in school a few years older than me, Ralph Wilder. He was a bully and a son of a bitch. He wasn’t a big kid—feeble and bird boned. Apparently, his family was English gentry, and he had been teased out of his private school for jokes about him being inbred.
He always had the nicest things—toys, clothes, games. I stared at the trunk of the tree and before I knew it, I was wishing.
“I want a bicycle. Ralph Wilder has the nicest bike in the village. And it sure would be nice to have one like it.”
The red letters faded before appearing again, “Then thee shalt owenth.”
I heard my name shouted from deep in the foggy forest. I stood and brushed off my legs. “Coming!” I yelled as I jogged away. My head was turned over my shoulder as I watched the letters fade and the trunk return to grey.
The next morning felt like Christmas, with a tinge of anxiety. I snuck from bed before my parents woke up and went to the back. There was nothing in the yard. But then I saw the door to our shed was open a-jar. I walked skeptically toward it and pulled the shed door the rest of the way open.
There, leaning again the wall, was a gorgeous youth three-speed. I had never seen Ralph ride it. I wondered if it even was his. It was still somewhat dark, and I took it for a spin around the block before the sun got any higher.
I realized my wish was almost useless. My parents would be skeptical of where I got the bike, and I ran the threat of getting caught by Ralph or whoever was the owner of this bike if I was riding it around the village. I put it back in the shed and threw a tarp over it. I was going to have to go back to the tree.
This time, I was going to get something I wouldn’t have to worry about taking out in public. I went to The Taking Tree and sat cross-legged.
“Um… thanks for the bike.”
The tree didn’t light up.
“I’m just wondering, it’s nice and all but what about a Playstation 2?” The tree was still unlit and I cleared my throat. “I wish to have a Playstation 2 put in my living room.”
The letters started to shine. “Twill’ be so.”
I nodded once in thanks and went back home. I even primed my parents with a good lie. I told them my friend from school was going to give me his old Playstation and they didn’t ask anymore questions.
Soon, I was stacking up games, and wishes. I sold some of them and the bike. I was quickly pilling cash in my room. I was playing it safe and slow, I thought I had the tree beat.
My brother, Thomas, didn’t ask questions. He was a shy kid, and ever since I’d made my first wish he’d become quieter than usual. Somewhat skeptical of me. Still, he enjoyed playing my video games.
Then I ran into Ralph during breaktime. The tree had been taking nearly everything I’d gotten from him. I’d heard rumors his parents stopped buying him things since they thought he was selling it all. He’d been in a sour mood for weeks.
I held my head high as I passed on the playground one day, and I just couldn’t help giving him a little smirk.
“What’re you smiling about, you little bellend?”
I just smiled wider and kept walking.
“Hey!” Ralph shouted and threw a small stone at my head. “Bugs, I’m talking to you and those buck-teeth.”
I ran my tongue over my teeth self-consciously. I did have a horrendous set. The worst part was that it was the girls who took to teasing me and calling me Bugs Bunny.
“Piss off, Ralph.” I turned and kept walking.
He speed-walked up to me and punched me in the side. A cheap shot. I collapsed on the ground and was soon taking his kicks to the face. A crowd gathered cheering him on and thankfully, before too much damage was done, a teacher yanked him off.
“You’ll get yours! You cockend loser! I’ll—” I had to catch my breath. “I’ll kill you!” I screamed.
“Come and get me, Bugs,” said Ralph, as he was pulled away by the collar.
All the other kids stared at me in disgust and pity. I felt wetness on my cheeks and realized with horror that I was crying. I stood up, brushed the dirt off my knees, and walked right off school grounds.
You can guess exactly where I was headed.
When I reached the tree, I was still crying. It spoke with its letters before I asked a question, the first time it ever did that. “What troubles thee child?”
I wiped the snot from my nose and spat. I was too blinded by rage to even think. I just blurted out.
“Dear tree, I wish for a new set of teeth.”
“Tis done,” shined the letters.
I stormed off, an evil grin stretching my mouth.
When I got home and cooled down, I realized what a horrid mistake I’d made. I didn’t want Ralph’s teeth ripped out of his head, not only that, but the idea of new teeth being somehow put into my mouth was a nightmare.
Someone would have to pull my old ones. The pain… the blood….
After dinner, I ran back to the tree. “I take back my wish!” I shouted. I stayed still and quiet waiting for a response. None came.
“Did you hear me?! I said I take back my wish!”
Then with an evilness I could almost hear, the letters appeared, “Nay taketh backs.”
“No! I’m wishing to take it back. Do you hear me? I command you.”
“Nay. I commandeth thee.” Wrote the tree before fading dark. It was the last thing it said. I shouted for several more minutes, but it never lit up again.
I tried to stay up all night, but it’s something ten-year-olds aren’t very good at. I didn’t even last until midnight. I woke up with a jolt before any of my family did and raced to the bathroom mirror.
I stretched my mouth wide, inspecting my teeth. They were near perfect. I had straight, normal-sized teeth. I started to laugh. Louder and louder until I had to cover my mouth not to wake anyone.
My wish had worked out again. I snuck out of the house before anyone could see me. I wanted to see Ralph get his. I wanted to hear his mumbled screams when he woke in the morning.
I went to his house and hid in the bushes, snickering like the rotten schoolboy I was. But the door opened, and Ralph walked out casually with his school uniform on. He waved to his mum over his shoulder, and I saw his smile shine. It was no different. A pit dropped in my stomach.
Something was wrong.
When Ralph was out of sight I took off towards New Forest. Twenty minutes later, panting and out of breath, I was at the tree.
“What’s the trick?!” I shouted. “What did I have to do to get these?” I pointed at my mouth.
The trunk began to glow, but this time there were no letters, just an arrow pointing up. I snapped my head to look toward the top of the tree, but nothing caught my eye.
I walked forward cautiously and suddenly I froze. I saw a small, limp hand on the other side of the tree. It was stained with dried, brown blood.
The arrow wasn’t pointing up. It was pointing to this. I walked closer. The blood left my face and was replaced by a cold terror that prickled my skin.
There, slumped against the stump of The Taking Tree, was my brother, Thomas. His mouth was slightly open in a toothless smile. In his hands, he held a pliers. He’d bled to death from pulling his own teeth. “No!” I screamed, dropping to my knees. “No, Thomas!”
“Why?!” I screamed at the tree. “It was Ralph. They were supposed to be from Ralph!
The bark began to glow, and the tree revealed its trick.