To live. Is that not what we all want? Branches stretching up to the heavens, consuming the light from the closest star, the tree wanted to live as she had lived for hundreds of years already.
But this was not the same world she had sprouted into. There were things in the sky that weren't birds. There were animals that didn't graze that ran at high speeds on their strange round legs carrying primates in their partially transparent mouths.
The other plants told her these things. They whispered them to her through the chemicals in the soil where their roots touched or came close. The message passed from one to the next, on and on in an unbroken chain.
But they were coming for her. The ones who had chopped down so many of the others to make room for the new world. She had no muscles, fangs or claws and even if she had, the animals that stood in the way of this thing called ‘progress’ never seemed to last long.
She wanted to live but in some ways she was already immortal. Her seeds had spread to places she would never touch with her own roots. Whether the weight of her own body brought her down one day or she was chopped before her time, a part of her survived as long as the seeds of her species still scattered somewhere.
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