Bleeding Trees, from The Immortal Wanderer

by Baransel Kutlu

Heavy snow fell as he walked along a hill path. Coming across an orchard standing tall out of a thick field of snow, he continued under the trees, blood red liquid dripping from their bark onto the untouched snow. A red ring sat around the trees marking where they bled. He wiped a drop off the tree onto his finger and put it in his mouth.

Instantly, a shock ran down his tongue. His heartbeat slowed, beating a low thrum in his ear. The trees began to distort around him, their long twisting limbs wrapping around him and pushing him into the snow. He tried screaming but no sound left his mouth. Unable to move, he cried as he sunk under the snow, into the earth. The roots wrapped around his head as he lay in the dark cold soil.

Extract continued by Summer Xu

The darkness smothered him like a giant piece of wet cloth. He could hear his heartbeat –its still beating a sign of hope, perhaps? The soil tasted salty, and slightly bitter. It was the fresh taste of oozing blood. And it even felt like blood: damp, cold, and clinging. Yet somehow, it was surprisingly calming, like he was back to his mother’s womb again. 

Like this was his rebirth. 

He allowed himself to sink deeper into the vague darkness, losing sense of time, space and eventually, of himself. 

Suddenly, the darkness brightened up a bit. He could sense the current of a beautiful pain rising from the tip of his toes, to his limbs, to his scalp… The leaves were sprouting, and roots were sinking deep into the earth… 

He stretched his branches to the vague empty space around him, waiting for the next victim as he slowly adapted to the process of photosynthesis. 

About haringeyunchained

Haringey Unchained is a collective of students aiming to show case the creative talent of Haringey Sixth Form College in Tottenham, London. We think that through the promotion of our creative thoughts, we can educate our community, bringing to the foreground the critical and creative consciousness of a vibrant school in a deprived part of London. We are endeavouring to provide this blog as a platform for our community, giving the space to those whose work otherwise might not be seen or read. Being that the cuffs are off, we are able to express through our photography, art, short fiction and poetry, what’s really on our minds. We are free.

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