Magic At Midnight

The tree, had been standing in the town square, for as long as anyone could remember. It was a grand old tree; and although it had been used for nefarious purposes in years gone by, there it stood. And as per usual, the bleeding tree would blossom; full and brilliant crimson in the Spring. There had been tales told about the tree that were truly more legend now, tales to tell the children; before sending them to bed. Tales told around village fires, men with their pipes and tankards, women with their babes in bundles; all of them sporting their toothless grins.

As the story went, there was a witch, but of course, the story begins long before that. The tree, had begun as a symbol of freedom, and liberty, and had been planted right smack dab in the center of town, a physical land mark, of all they had suffered, in order to have their own homes, in their own land, where they could grow their own crops, worship their own God, and keep all they earned. At some point, the tree had gone from standing as a symbol of freedom and liberty, to a source of punishment. Witchcraft, had been found among them, and so the people had taken to hanging those found guilty; of this monstrous crime, from the sturdy limbs of the tree. The tree, remained solid, and strong, but the blossoms seemed to grow less prolific with each passing Spring.

The year came, when a specific young woman was found guilty of witchcraft. She had a way about her, a twinkle in her eyes; and knowledge of herbs and spices. Because she had given a barren woman a tonic, then all at once she conceived, because of this, the girl was accused of witch craft. However, instead of hanging the girl, as per usual, the people of the village tied her to the tree, setting it ablaze. The girl refused to scream; she never made a sound, which infuriated the people that much more. Determined to be good and rid of her, they waited for the fires to dwindle, then went in search of her bones, but no bones remained. Even her silver locket had vanished in the flames.

It is said, that upon a warm Fall day the girls image can still be seen, waiting for loves true kiss to awaken her, but who knows? Some say they've seen her likeness in the bark, but since that day only one slender branch of the tree still blossoms. Maybe it's a reminder, to all onlookers, that the tree is still watching, and still represents justice and liberty.

John Forsythe, had heard this story all his life. John, had been born and raised in this tragic little town and knew all the stories by heart. John, had even taken to drawing what he imagined was the girl in the tree. The girl in the tree....Ha! Who had ever heard of such a thing? The tree, had blossomed as it always did, just the one branch but John was lonely and tired of wondering. Come the Full Corn Moon, this year, John was going to do the unthinkable, the unimaginable, something no one else had ever done. John was going to kiss the tree. John giggled uncontrollably. The thought was so idiotic; and yet utterly fabulous! It was ridiculous to even ponder and so the thought of it made John giggle with both glee and idiocy.

"I am such a fool!"

He shouted at himself in the dark. It was September twenty-eighth; but in a few short hours the clock would chime twelve; in the city bank, and on the last chime John would kiss the tree.

Time moved ever so slowly and John found himself drifting to sleep, his arm over his red rimmed eyes, where he lay semi-conscious on his bed. The half hour chimed, at half past eleven, and it was as if someone had blasted off a cannon. John flew from his bed, slid fluidly into his shoes, and it was down the narrow flight of stairs he went; two by two. Up the street he ran. He was just reaching the courtyard when the vintage bells began to chime, like huge heralds of doom they clanged. ONE, TWO, THREE, he had to hurry. He had to place the kiss right on her lips, if he could find them, as the clock in the tower chimed twelve. That much had always been clear. Breathless, doused with perspiration, and more than a little self conscious, John tripped his way up the rounded hill to the top; where the tree stood, graceful, and elegant, in the moon light of the cloudless sky.

TEN, ELEVEN, he was searching frantically for anything that resembled a face on this tree. He should have been searching for weeks now but people....they would have stared, laughed, maybe even found him to be a lunatic. No more time, it was now or never. Taking hold of the tree, John placed a well aimed kiss right on the spot that looked most like lips. TWELVE!!!

And nothing...a big-fat-NOTHING!!! The people of the town, peering through their shutters, watched the tragic, yet comical scene. They had seen John behaving strange all summer, and now it was clear why. Cautiously they approached him, straight jacket in hand, a sedative syringe in the other. They would get him the treatment he very obviously needed. As the psychiatrist reached out to take John by the arm, the tree began to move, its limbs popping with a wild array of blossoms. The people jumped back, startled, and frightened. What was this? What was happening? The branches became two, long slender, beautiful arms, the roots became her gown. Suddenly, the tree was just a tree, and the girl had been released. Fury burned in her lavender eyes. As she lifted her arm to strike the people, John put his arms around her. It was fully midnight now, and leaning down, he placed a sweet kiss upon her very human lips. The gathering crowd cheered, some still stared silently, in shock, as John and Alyssa headed to the beach and into a new future; all brought to pass because of a kiss at midnight.

The End