The biggest bonus of running this blog is getting to know some of my regular visitors and discovering their marvellous array of interests and hobbies. To say that I am extremely privileged to have such a fantastically talented group visit my blog is an understatement. One of the members of this group, that I fondly call ‘The Whistling Arrows,’ is Mike. We have already heard some of his childhood memories and recently Avalon has made him a Blogger Buddy and featured his many talents on her website at Avalon's Blog.
Mike is not only a brilliant artist and illustrator but also a film maker with his new western movie ‘Circle of Death,’ hopefully released in December. But did you know he also writes short stories?
Here is his latest composition that he sent in a few weeks ago:
The Giant
From deep in Sherwood Forest among fallen leafs something stirs, a small squirrel carries an acorn that through instinct he buries in the forest floor and promptly forgets about it.
Nine hundred years had passed since that day, now from that tiny acorn a magnificent oak, a giant of the forest had grown, majestic, towering above all others in the forest. Beneath its leafy boughs Robin had pledged his love to Marian, minstrels had sang of their love beneath the tree, and Robin's band often took refuge among its branches. The giant oak had given shade, shelter and comfort to generations of people and animals, the stag, the badger, the fox, the birds of the forest and insects of all kinds. Kings and queens had come and gone and many battles had been won and lost, still the tree stood tall.
Surviving lightning strikes, drought, and even fire, it had seen love, life, and death. The rising and setting of the sun thousands of times and it seemed it would go on for ever. But now the giant was old, its magnificent trunk was gnarled and twisted, and its topmost branches were withering and bare of leaf, the great oak was beginning slowly, to die.
The sun rose as it always did, but now, there was a new sound in the forests, an unfamiliar sound, loud, grinding, closer and closer it came and then stopped, the whirring sound of a chainsaw suddenly filled the air sending birds flying in all directions. The razor sharp blade cut deep into the trees aging branches sending them crashing to the forest floor. In the end just the great trunk, stood alone, time and time again the blade broke as it sliced away at the trunk, then finally with a deep grown the massive trunk leaned slowly then crashed to the forest floor with a sound like thunder that echoed through Sherwood Forest.
The Sun streamed down and lit the place where the tree had stood the giant was no more, all that remained were leafs and branches, all fell quiet once more in the forest, then scampering from the giants leafs came a squirrel carrying an acorn which he buried nearby and promptly forgot about.
(Mike Giddens)
I would like to say a special thank you to Maria (Azul Maria) who very kindly allowed me to use one of her atmospheric pictures to accompany Mike’s story. To see more of her stunning photography please click here: Maria's Photographs.
