Alan P. Scott - Fictions - 100-word stories

and now a wood

Conifers like kudzu sprout overnight through mall parking lots and "Centre Courts." Even in the Mojave Desert, leaves rustle constantly; the groaning of trunks visibly lengthening lends a bass note. A vengeful Dutch elm, resurgent against all odds, impales a courthouse in the overgrown square of a small Connecticut town.

Soldiers with chainsaws are heroes again, fighting valiantly but in vain. Flocks of spotted owls wheel and jeer overhead.

A few, arboreal again, achieve symbiosis. Their children's children, smaller, longer-armed, chitter at the last true men below, huddling at night without even fire to hold back the looming branches.

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