The Lilac Girl

Every day she walked through her orchard to listen to the stories told by the trees. It was a gift she was born with. With a soft touch of her hand, she could hear the countless knowledge the trees held just beneath their bark. In their infinite rings of wood, adventurous stories rolled before her eyes like the waves of the sea. 

On days like today, the trees were especially ready to share. The sky was only filled with a few clouds, the air was warm with shimmering sunshine, and a soft breeze danced through the leaves. 

Today the girl wore her favorite outfit. She was dressed in short jean shorts and a lilac purple windbreaker that almost came past her shorts, cream gloves with the fingers worn through and colored brown due to dirt, long, cream colored sweater socks, and tall, black rain boots. On rainy days, she would pull her windbreaker over her head and only make it to the first trees in the orchard. They got the most attention and would often need convincing to tell their stories. Despite this, they loved the lilac girl, as they called her. She had heard their stories thousands of times. 

She continued walking down the orchard. The trees in the middle of the orchard were given less attention. They never begged the lilac girl to ask for their stories, but they always looked at her expectantly. She came to them almost as often as she did the first lines of trees. Today she just walked past them, smiling at her favorites and nodding at the others. 

As she continued down the lines of trees, the trees called to her more often to have her listen to their stories. But today she was on a mission and had no time to stop and give an ear. She simply walked past them and ignored their calls. Her heart ached to hear their stories, but she had to keep moving. 

The lilac girl woke in the middle of the night to a terrible dream. She was walking through her orchard when someone called for help. She quickly ran to help but found the person was calling from the dark depths of the orchard. She rarely ventured to the back, due to the thorns and brush that had overcome the trees and paths. Though she was very good at grooming the trees, she believed the back of the orchard was out of her control. Despite this fact, the lilac girl continued, jumping over fallen branches and trees, stepping over stumps, and being careful to avoid the thorny vines that covered almost everything. She felt the thick darkness press in around her and hoped she found the person soon because she wasn’t sure if she could endure anymore. When she emerged from the dark, thorny wasteland, she found herself back in front of her humble cottage. The sun was shining and she could no longer hear the cries for help. When she turned to go back, she could only see the beginning of the orchard. To help her figure out what was wrong she sat on the ground and started to meditate. When the lilac girl opened her eyes she found a dusty brick-colored fox sitting patiently in front of her. They stared at each other for a long time before the fox stood and run to into the orchard. As the lilac girl watched him run away, she could hear the cries for help once more. She followed the fox with her eyes and watched him stop at the start of the thorny wasteland and wait. The cries continued and after waiting a few minutes more, the lilac girl broke into a run toward the fox. She had a feeling he was waiting to show her to the person who needed help. As soon as she reached him, he ran in front of her, every once in a while checking to see if she was following. They ran almost side by side, running further and further into the darkness of the back orchard. Finally, the fox stopped in front of a sad, old tree. Anyone could know, at just one glance, that the tree was dying. Immediately the lilac girl’s heart broke. She should have come to the back of the orchard more often. She reached out to touch the tree, to help release it from its stories, but her hand crumbled the bark and she fell into a darkness within the tree. She fell further and further, but right before she hit the bottom, she awoke in her bed drenched in sweat and her heart racing. 

She awoke as the sun was peeking over the rolling orchard and quickly decided she could not fall back asleep. She readied herself for the day and made herself a warm cup of chai tea to calm her nerves. She had planned to only do a few trees in the middle of the orchard, but found, waiting outside her door, the brick-red fox. The fox looked at her with steady eyes, then bolted to somewhere the lilac girl could not see. The lilac girl immediately decided to see if the old tree was, truly, in need of help. 

And so she set off on her quest, passing even the most adventurous storytelling trees to help the One, the nightmare still fresh and real in her mind. Even now, walking through the trees just before the thorny wastelands, the lilac girl hesitated. She could still feel the fear bubbling up from her stomach, warning her that it was a terrible idea to continue, that she would surely die. If she died, so would the trees. Despite the great burden that lay on her shoulders, the lilac girl continued.

Once she stepped into the Wastelands, the darkness and cold promptly welcomed her. The thorns and brush seemed to sneer at her and suddenly the lilac girl felt very small. She felt broken and her confidence shattered. She fell to her knees, sucking in air, trying hard to steady her breathing. The thorns dug into her bare legs and told the lilac girl of their hatred for her. Tears escaped her eyes as she tried to block out all the disturbing noise. Focusing only on her breathing, the lilac girl stood and continued onward to the Old One. 

The more and more the lilac girl ventured into the fallen Wastelands, the more the thorns tried to push her away, hurt her, and keep her from continuing. But she would hear none of it. She felt certain her greatest mission was to save the old tree. 

Finally, the lilac girl circled around and came face to face with the One. There the tree stood, broken, covered in thorns, and barely able to say anything. The lilac girl felt its whispered cries and rushed towards it. It was completely covered by thorns and presented no safe space for the lilac girl to place her hand. In utter defiance, the girl placed her hand on the tree and her eyes were opened to the tree’s story. 

The story was long and shed much of its weight on the lilac girl. As the tree continued to tell its daunting tale, the girl drooped low and sat on one of its gargantuan roots. Slowly but surely, the thorns and the brush started to leave the tree. The darkness departed and the girl was left lying on soft moss just beneath the old tree. Her mind slid into sleep and her hand slipped from the newly recovered bark of the Old One. It fell at her side, punctured by the thorns that she had laid upon to access the tree. 

The lilac girl awoke to the music of birds. The sun’s beams glittered through the leaves above her and fell soft on her face. She stood and faced the Old One. It stood tall and looked relieved and alive. The thorns and brush had left its gentle bark and now lay covered in spongy moss, tiny white flowers, and beautiful, graceful mushrooms. The tree was freed from the darkness of its story, which had been affecting all the trees in the Wasteland. 

The lilac girl smiled and spun around to see the newly grown Wastelands. It was green and lively and the trees were, once again, singing their mystical fairytale songs. The fox then emerged and bowed before the lilac girl. He waited patiently as the girl approached him. She laid her punctured hand upon his head and was surprised to see it was almost completely healed by his touch. All that was left were a few scars that the lilac girl figured would always be a small reminder of this great day. 

She walked back to her cottage with the fox by her side and touched every tree she came near. Stories flooded her mind, both good and bad, relieving those trees of the stories that burdened them both temporally and spiritually, except it was different now. Instead of exclusively sharing their stories with the lilac girl, they shared them with the trees next to them and shared those stories with more trees, and so on and so on. 

After that day the lilac girl rested. She laid her head down with three simple words, “I feel alive.” She whispered it to the world for the last time. She had come to the cusp of her power, her gift. She had healed the orchard and felt content as her eyes drifted into an endless sleep.