Microcosm

This was an unusual tree, which did not follow seasons. It could wilt in spring, or bloom in winter. It had become a tourist attraction over the years, but the tree did not always oblige. At times, It would look like a pretty normal tree, and the onlookers would return disappointed.

The window was a microcosm of the surrounding world. Reflections moved in the stationary squares of glass, and narrated tales of romance, horror, love, devotion, deceit and disappointment. The tree could do nothing about the shifting creatures that lived in the opposite building, but absorbed the tiniest details of their lives. The building was notorious for being haunted, and the residents did not stay there for long.

Their lives could have been larger than those moments that reflected in the glass. They could be human,  or moving images on a television screen or relics from a bygone era. The scenes that flashed could be from the present or past. But, every emotion was real for the Empath Tree, as it manifested those on its own exterior.

I wondered, if the tree was living out a curse, and needed liberation. It had to stop being a microcosm of the universe.

Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner

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