Matilda and the Tree
by Lil Buckley
Once upon a time there was a beautiful maiden, and she was but a simple commoner, working as a servant for her father the woodsman. The girl had deep black eyes and beautiful blond hair like that of daisies. The pair were very poor, with little bread and no money for fine clothes. The pair lived alone beside the forest, a forest not many dared to venture into. The girl would go into the small parts of the wood to collect water, day after day as the autumn breeze washed over her. One day while going to collect water, she met a tree. This tree looked like all the other oak trees, but he could talk, and smile like regular people can. “Hello daughter of the woodsman, what is your name?” The girl thought for a moment. “Well, father says I should not talk to strangers...” The tree smiled a tree like smile. “Little woman of flesh and hair, I am a tree! I am not like the bristled thorn bushes, or harmful nettles. A tree cannot hurt you, they are your friends, and you can always trust an autumn tree!” The girl thought for a moment, and to be fair she had never heard of a tree attacking human girls. “I suppose you are right, this forest is dangerous and it is important to be careful.
My name is Matilda! What is your name, tree?” The tree smiled and embraced her with his warm branches. “You may call me, friend.” The two spoke for hours, and Matilda believed she had formed a close bond with a new friend. They would talk together every day as she went to get water. After a few weeks, the pair became inseparable. One day as Matilda came to speak with the tree, the tree gave her a gift. It was a beautiful silver comb. The tree smiled and said to her, “This comb is magical, and when you use it, it lets me know how much our friendship means to me.” The girl smiled happily accepting the comb. but upon closer inspection found that its teeth were made from the world's sharpest needles. Matilda’s smile faded as she looked up to the tree. “My friend, your gift is very kind. But this comb is made from needles, it will hurt my scalp and rip my hair. I cannot accept your gift, dear friend.” The tree's branches went dark and harsh, as the tree's expression shifted. “How dare you? I thought we were friends? I worked very hard to make you this gift, and you just throw it away like it's trash?! The comb will not hurt, I promise you. The comb is just fine to do its job well, it is not bad or dangerous. Hundreds of girls would kill to have a comb like that, do not be ungrateful of my gift! I am but a tree, and cannot give you the finest things in all the land, this is the best I can do and a real friend would appreciate that!”
The girl recoiled in shame, the tree had never yelled at her like this before. She did not wish to upset her friend, not at all. She did not wish to be ungrateful, and the tree was her close and only friend. He would never hurt her, for a tree cannot hurt a human girl. Trees are not like thorns and nettles. And the tree was her friend, he would never want to hurt her. The girl accepted the comb against her better judgement, and went home to go use it. She sat down in her room to comb her hair, only to find the experience incredibly unpleasant. Just as she said it would, the comb's needles cut her scalp and made it writhe in pain. She had only been combing for a few minutes before she stopped and put the comb down. Her head was bleeding red into the top of her blonde hair, and she was crying from the pain of the comb.
The next day she returned to the tree, holding the comb with intent to return it. “My friend, I'm really sorry. But I cannot use this comb. It hurts my scalp and makes it bleed. I'm sorry if I upset you, but I don't want to comb my hair with this.” The tree did not accept the comb, and grew angry. “How dare you try to return my gift!? I made it just for you, because I care about you! Besides, you used the comb wrong! What a foolish thing to do, to not even know how a comb works! You will keep using it until you figure out how to do it properly! This is one of the finest combs in all the land, and because you can't use it right you are acting ungrateful?! Any other girl would know how to use it properly! And would appreciate it for how beautiful it is!” Matilda felt foolish. Maybe the tree was right? Maybe she was just using it wrong? She had never used a comb like it before. And she did know other girls loved beautiful combs like these. She would read about beautiful princesses and their extravagant combs brushing their beautiful hair. She did not wish to be ungrateful, and she trusted her friend. A tree is not like thorns or nettles, trees do not hurt human girls. Everyone knows that.
Matilda went home and once again, combed her hair. And just like before, it was incredibly painful. She tried all manner of ways to comb her hair so that it wouldn't hurt. But after 30 minutes she had to stop. Her scalp was raw and bleeding and her face full of tears. Her blonde hair slowly being stained red from the blood. Matilda returned to the tree once more, upset and hurt by the tree's deceptions. “I know you are not like nettles and thorns, but you have hurt me. You have hurt me with something you made me believe was a gift. I never wish to use it again, or to speak with you! You are not my friend, you are just as bad as the nettles and thorns.” The tree folded its branches in annoyance. “Well, you're being silly, I did not trick or hurt you! I am a tree, I am your friend! You're treating me badly and frankly I'm getting sick of it! If you ever pull a stunt like this again! I shall tell the whole village of the girl who was too stupid to know how to use a comb properly, and ended up cutting her scalp like a buffoon!” Matilda felt her eyes well up with tears, as she ran back home to her room.
She did not want to use the comb again, but what choice did she have? Matilda and her father were poor. If she had the idea of her being a dangerous buffoon go around, she would never be able to find work. Matilda, full of tears, knew she had to listen to the tree’s demands. She combed her hair with the needled comb for who knows how long. It could have been hours that felt like days. By the time she had finished, her beautiful blonde hair had been fully stained red with her blood. She sat in her room full of tears, she knew she couldn’t live like this. She needed to tell her father, he would know what to do. She gently approached her father, and told him what had happened. The old man hugged his daughter, and assured her she was not foolish or stupid.
The woodsman thought for a moment, and looked at his daughter's stained hair. “...Is it ugly?” his daughter asked in tears. The man hugged his daughter. “No no no my child, it is not ugly. And while it will never be the same as it was before, it will fade after time, after gently washing it in the river. It may not be the pure blonde it used to be. But it is just as beautiful as ever, little one.” The girl smiled sadly and hugged her father. The woodsman picked up his axe. “But before we do anything, that tree has got to go!” Matilda's father handed her the axe. “You must be the one to do it sweetheart, and I know you can.” Matilda hesitantly took the axe, and marched into the forest.
She walked up to the tree and began to chop it down. The tree screamed for mercy, begging for forgiveness, saying he had changed. Pleaded and showered her with love and compliments. But she did not listen to his words, and continued to chop him down. The tree began screaming insults, saying horrible horrible things to Matilda, trying to scare her away. But she did not listen to his words, and with a final swing of his axe, chopped him down. Even after being chopped down, his vile words still continued. So she continued to chop, and chop, and chop. Until the tree was in a billion tiny pieces, all too small to hear his horrible words. All but one wood chip remained, still cursing the dickens out of her. She looked at the piece for a moment, before taking it home. She took this last piece of the tree, and put it in a small box. The box was put in the corner of her closet, and there the box would stay for the rest of her days. As the sun began to rise, Matilda finished making a sign in front of the forest. “While nettles and thorns are dangerous, a tree can be just as much so.”
by Lil Buckley
Once upon a time there was a beautiful maiden, and she was but a simple commoner, working as a servant for her father the woodsman. The girl had deep black eyes and beautiful blond hair like that of daisies. The pair were very poor, with little bread and no money for fine clothes. The pair lived alone beside the forest, a forest not many dared to venture into. The girl would go into the small parts of the wood to collect water, day after day as the autumn breeze washed over her. One day while going to collect water, she met a tree. This tree looked like all the other oak trees, but he could talk, and smile like regular people can. “Hello daughter of the woodsman, what is your name?” The girl thought for a moment. “Well, father says I should not talk to strangers...” The tree smiled a tree like smile. “Little woman of flesh and hair, I am a tree! I am not like the bristled thorn bushes, or harmful nettles. A tree cannot hurt you, they are your friends, and you can always trust an autumn tree!” The girl thought for a moment, and to be fair she had never heard of a tree attacking human girls. “I suppose you are right, this forest is dangerous and it is important to be careful.
My name is Matilda! What is your name, tree?” The tree smiled and embraced her with his warm branches. “You may call me, friend.” The two spoke for hours, and Matilda believed she had formed a close bond with a new friend. They would talk together every day as she went to get water. After a few weeks, the pair became inseparable. One day as Matilda came to speak with the tree, the tree gave her a gift. It was a beautiful silver comb. The tree smiled and said to her, “This comb is magical, and when you use it, it lets me know how much our friendship means to me.” The girl smiled happily accepting the comb. but upon closer inspection found that its teeth were made from the world's sharpest needles. Matilda’s smile faded as she looked up to the tree. “My friend, your gift is very kind. But this comb is made from needles, it will hurt my scalp and rip my hair. I cannot accept your gift, dear friend.” The tree's branches went dark and harsh, as the tree's expression shifted. “How dare you? I thought we were friends? I worked very hard to make you this gift, and you just throw it away like it's trash?! The comb will not hurt, I promise you. The comb is just fine to do its job well, it is not bad or dangerous. Hundreds of girls would kill to have a comb like that, do not be ungrateful of my gift! I am but a tree, and cannot give you the finest things in all the land, this is the best I can do and a real friend would appreciate that!”
The girl recoiled in shame, the tree had never yelled at her like this before. She did not wish to upset her friend, not at all. She did not wish to be ungrateful, and the tree was her close and only friend. He would never hurt her, for a tree cannot hurt a human girl. Trees are not like thorns and nettles. And the tree was her friend, he would never want to hurt her. The girl accepted the comb against her better judgement, and went home to go use it. She sat down in her room to comb her hair, only to find the experience incredibly unpleasant. Just as she said it would, the comb's needles cut her scalp and made it writhe in pain. She had only been combing for a few minutes before she stopped and put the comb down. Her head was bleeding red into the top of her blonde hair, and she was crying from the pain of the comb.
The next day she returned to the tree, holding the comb with intent to return it. “My friend, I'm really sorry. But I cannot use this comb. It hurts my scalp and makes it bleed. I'm sorry if I upset you, but I don't want to comb my hair with this.” The tree did not accept the comb, and grew angry. “How dare you try to return my gift!? I made it just for you, because I care about you! Besides, you used the comb wrong! What a foolish thing to do, to not even know how a comb works! You will keep using it until you figure out how to do it properly! This is one of the finest combs in all the land, and because you can't use it right you are acting ungrateful?! Any other girl would know how to use it properly! And would appreciate it for how beautiful it is!” Matilda felt foolish. Maybe the tree was right? Maybe she was just using it wrong? She had never used a comb like it before. And she did know other girls loved beautiful combs like these. She would read about beautiful princesses and their extravagant combs brushing their beautiful hair. She did not wish to be ungrateful, and she trusted her friend. A tree is not like thorns or nettles, trees do not hurt human girls. Everyone knows that.
Matilda went home and once again, combed her hair. And just like before, it was incredibly painful. She tried all manner of ways to comb her hair so that it wouldn't hurt. But after 30 minutes she had to stop. Her scalp was raw and bleeding and her face full of tears. Her blonde hair slowly being stained red from the blood. Matilda returned to the tree once more, upset and hurt by the tree's deceptions. “I know you are not like nettles and thorns, but you have hurt me. You have hurt me with something you made me believe was a gift. I never wish to use it again, or to speak with you! You are not my friend, you are just as bad as the nettles and thorns.” The tree folded its branches in annoyance. “Well, you're being silly, I did not trick or hurt you! I am a tree, I am your friend! You're treating me badly and frankly I'm getting sick of it! If you ever pull a stunt like this again! I shall tell the whole village of the girl who was too stupid to know how to use a comb properly, and ended up cutting her scalp like a buffoon!” Matilda felt her eyes well up with tears, as she ran back home to her room.
She did not want to use the comb again, but what choice did she have? Matilda and her father were poor. If she had the idea of her being a dangerous buffoon go around, she would never be able to find work. Matilda, full of tears, knew she had to listen to the tree’s demands. She combed her hair with the needled comb for who knows how long. It could have been hours that felt like days. By the time she had finished, her beautiful blonde hair had been fully stained red with her blood. She sat in her room full of tears, she knew she couldn’t live like this. She needed to tell her father, he would know what to do. She gently approached her father, and told him what had happened. The old man hugged his daughter, and assured her she was not foolish or stupid.
The woodsman thought for a moment, and looked at his daughter's stained hair. “...Is it ugly?” his daughter asked in tears. The man hugged his daughter. “No no no my child, it is not ugly. And while it will never be the same as it was before, it will fade after time, after gently washing it in the river. It may not be the pure blonde it used to be. But it is just as beautiful as ever, little one.” The girl smiled sadly and hugged her father. The woodsman picked up his axe. “But before we do anything, that tree has got to go!” Matilda's father handed her the axe. “You must be the one to do it sweetheart, and I know you can.” Matilda hesitantly took the axe, and marched into the forest.
She walked up to the tree and began to chop it down. The tree screamed for mercy, begging for forgiveness, saying he had changed. Pleaded and showered her with love and compliments. But she did not listen to his words, and continued to chop him down. The tree began screaming insults, saying horrible horrible things to Matilda, trying to scare her away. But she did not listen to his words, and with a final swing of his axe, chopped him down. Even after being chopped down, his vile words still continued. So she continued to chop, and chop, and chop. Until the tree was in a billion tiny pieces, all too small to hear his horrible words. All but one wood chip remained, still cursing the dickens out of her. She looked at the piece for a moment, before taking it home. She took this last piece of the tree, and put it in a small box. The box was put in the corner of her closet, and there the box would stay for the rest of her days. As the sun began to rise, Matilda finished making a sign in front of the forest. “While nettles and thorns are dangerous, a tree can be just as much so.”