Cooper - The Resurrection Tree and Other Stories

THE RESURRECTION TREE

AND OTHER STORIES

Tony Cooper

First Digital Edition (26/03/2015)

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/.

Cover by Xos

http://kaosnest.daportfolio.com/

TABLE OF CONTENTS

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THE RESURRECTION TREE

Katy, 5 years old

This is the church, and this is the graveyard.

Katy carefully placed rows of smooth grey and blue pebbles next to a half-buried red brick in the soil. She was squatting under the tree in her back garden, dressed in her best shiny black shoes, heavy black best coat, smart black school skirt and white shirt with black jumper and a grey scarf tucked in at the front.

Her parents were inside the house with the rest of the family. All of them in black. Still squatting, she turned her head, bunches sent messy by her coat collar and scarf, and looked through the glass sliding doors at the people standing around inside.

She had just been to see granny Flo laid to rest as father put it. She had been shushed quiet when she said She wont get much rest in there. as she saw the uncomfortable looking box going in the ground.

She had only met her granny a few times. She had seemed nice enough, but once heard her mother say to her father that she was deliberately holding things up by refusing to go into a home. But shes already at home. she had said, confused. Her parents ignored her, and she forgot about it. Now everyone was inside the house, still looking sad, which was odd as the sun had come out now, so it was nice. Her mother said she could go outside to play, but not to get herself dirty. Her brother was inside with them, made to say hello to everyone, go around with tiny sausages and open-topped pies. Nobody had wanted them from the table, so she guessed it must make them nicer if you go around handing them out instead.

She sighed and looked back down at her scene. The red brick had been there for ever, and couldnt be moved, so that became the church. She didnt have a pointy hat for it. Daddy said it was called the steeple, but that was a silly name as it was clearly a hat like the one bishops had.

She straightened up and started looking around the garden for a hat for the church. Daddy hadnt done much work to the bottom of the garden. The top half, nearest the house, had a narrow concrete patio, a small lawn that Daddy grumbled about mowing and some flower beds on either side. Halfway down on the right, the bed ended under the tree. It was a huge oak, taller than the house. It grew giant acorns in the summer, which her brother tried to knock off by throwing rocks at them, and went dead in the winter, only to come back to life again in the spring. Thats why she called it the Resurrection Tree. Although her mother didnt like hearing her call it that. She said it was disrespectful. Only God could bring people back from the dead. And even then he had only brought one person back. That seemed like a waste to Katy, because people died all the time, so it would be nice if He brought them all back to be with their families again.

The bottom of the garden, past the tree, was overgrown with bushes and long grasses and weeds growing among them. An old barbecue lay on its side in there somewhere, a big rusty bowl on three thick metal legs. More red bricks, like that of Katys church, were scattered around and would twist your ankle if you didnt watch out for them. Katy had memorised where they all were, even in the long grass.

Bushes pulled at her coat as she made her way down the garden and she had to keep tugging herself free from them. She liked it down this end. It always smelled sweet and was cool on hot days. The neighbours trees at the back and on both sides meant no-one could see in, so when she and her brother played here with their toys they could scream and jump around as much as they wanted, until their mother told them to shut up and play where she could see them. Then her father would be told to get it cleared so they could use it properly. She hoped he never would, as it was their secret den.

She was right at the back near the fence now. The collapsed rabbit hutch that had belonged to the previous owners was here, as was the small pile of compost bags, torn open, dark brown soil spilling out into the weeds.

It was there she found it, amongst the grasses, on the dark brown compost soil. A tiny dead bird. She could tell it was a bird from the beak and the few brown feathers still stuck to its wings, but the rest of it was bones. It was on its back, bony wing-arms stretched out, head turned to the side, beak open. It looked like it was sleeping, or waking up with a big yawn.

Katy smiled as she crouched down and picked it up. She walked back through the bushes, the bird cupped in one hand, stroking its bony head with the other, talking to it.

Its OK birdy, Im going to take you to the tree. Hell make you come back so you can fly again. Im not going to put you in a box. That would be silly, you dont live under the ground.

She pushed her way back through the bushes onto the lawn and went straight over to the tree. Carefully, she laid the bird skeleton next to the red brick church, in the crook of two large roots.

By the power of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, fly again!

She flung her arms up and wide, gazing into the snaking branches. After a moment, she looked back down. The bird lay still.

Oh well, Hes only made one come back, and that was a person. I guess Hes not bothered about birds.

She turned back to her graveyard and decided to dig one space out for granny Flo. She should probably bury one of those tiny open-topped pies in there, as there still seemed to be plenty left.

As she stood up to go and get one of the pies, she heard a scraping noise. She froze. There was something scuffling around. Slowly, ever so slowly, she turned her head. Her eyes swivelled as far round as they would go and, through her bunches, she looked down at the ground to see the bony bird struggle to its feet. It wiggled its thin wing bones and fell over one of its feet that was bent all funny. Then it pulled its wings in, shook its head and looked up at her with tiny hollow eyes.

Katy scooped it up and sprinted over to the house, almost colliding with the doors. She screamed Daddy! Daddy! over and over as she pushed the sliding door hard with her forearms, bird cupped tightly inside her hands. Everybody went quiet and looked at her as her father appeared from the middle of the room.

Katy, what

Daddy! Granny Flo doesnt need to be dead! We can put her under the Resurrection Tree and shell come back like the bird!

Her father sighed as he knelt down on one knee. Some others shook their heads. Someone said Poor girl.

Katy, weve talked about this. Your grandmother is with God in Heaven now.

No, shes under the ground! We need to bring her to the garden so she can come back like the bird.

She slowly opened her hands.

Her father pulled his head back and someone said Eww. as she revealed the skeleton.

He was about to tell her off when the bird shook itself and spread out its bony wings. Someone in the room screamed. Her father knocked it out of her hands and into the garden. He jumped out onto the patio and stamped on the bird, over and over and over. Katy yelled at him to stop, screaming that he was killing it again, that he was cruel. Her mother, who hadnt witnessed any of this, came rushing into the living room. Her father told her to take Katy upstairs as the bird, seemingly unhurt, tried to hop away across the lawn towards the safety of the bushes. Her mother called on God and the Lord Jesus as the guests in the house pressed themselves to the walls, talking in low tones, praying and staring at Katy.