The Tree of Life

The mud squished between her toes. The dewy smell of the garden in the morning after rain filled her with serenity. Before dawn, there is a quietness, her only time of respite from her sister, who hated the garden. The sunlight shone through the branches of the tree of life, making it glow and streak rays of light across the grass. Mai walked up to the tree and put her hand on its trunk. She could feel the beating of its heart. 

“What are you doing?” 

It was Celeste. Her torment was starting early today.

Mai turned around. With her head bowed down low, she said, “Nothing, sister. I’m just taking a stroll in the garden.”

Celeste snorted. “Look at you. You’re covered in mud. Our studies will begin soon, and you’re a disgrace. I don’t know why they bother with you. How do I put it?” She had a look of utter disgust on her face.  “Oh yeah, you are so remarkably unremarkable.”

“Yes, sister. I will clean up immediately.” Mai attempted to run off, but Celeste grabbed her arm.

“Mother wants to see you. She’s in her study.” She looked down at Mai’s feet. “Oh, and you should at least clean off your feet first. You look like a common farm girl.”

Mai found mother waiting in her study behind her desk, looking over some papers. 

Mai put her hand on the chair to pull it out to sit down. “There’s no need to sit down. This won’t take long,” her mother said, not bothering to look up.

Mai stood there awkwardly for what felt like a lifetime. She began idly using her toe to fidget with a loose thread in the old rug. This loose thread, how did it escape Mother’s keen eye? So often she would say something like, “You look like a ruffian; tidy up,” or “you look like a fallen cake; sit up straight.” The constant scrutiny that said all too clearly that Mai wasn’t good enough.

Her mother let out a sigh and finally put the papers down. “Mai, this shouldn’t come as a surprise, but you are not living up to the family’s standards.” There was no sympathy in her voice. Only the agitation of having to deal with something that she felt was beneath her. “I don’t know how a daughter of mine,” her voice rose in anger. “Could be completely untalented.” She smoothed the papers on her desk, trying to calm down. 

Mai felt her cheeks heat up. “But Mother, I am doing my best.”

Mother rose to her feet. “Your best is not good enough.” 

Mai could see the fire in her mother’s eyes, and smoke curled around her lips. The dragon was coming to the surface. Mai needed to tread lightly, or her mother would burn her where she stood, loose thread and all. Mai bowed her head. “You are right, Mother. What can I do?”

“You can die!” Mother pounded her fist down and then threw a glass across the room. “But your father.” She stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. “Your father has a soft spot for you. Instead of doing the noble thing, you will live in the country with your cousin and his wife.” Her voice dripped with disgust of the lowered station. “You’ll help on the farm or whatever country people do.” She waved her hand around like she was shooing a fly away. “Now, get out of my sight. Before I overrule your father.”

Mai ran out of the room and didn’t look back. She just ran, not knowing where to go. There was a door up ahead that Mai never noticed before. She stopped running and opened it. The door opened to a set of stairs leading down into darkness.  A cold, musty breeze brushed against her face. What was that children’s story from her childhood? Children knew not to go into secret rooms, but she was ignoring all the warnings. Beware of a trickster who enchants children into selling their souls. It was always the naughty children who had lost their way. Well, she wasn’t a child anymore, and it was just a children’s story. Mai tiptoed down the stairs. They groaned with her every step as if warning her to turn back, but she didn’t heed their warning. She kept going waving her hands in front of her to ward off monsters or spiders. 

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard her name whispered, Mai. 

“Who’s there?” She wasn’t a little girl, but her voice became small, like a little girl.

A lamp sparked to life, and she was able to see, although the room was still dimly lit. There was a squat figure standing in the middle of the room. “Why are you crying, girl?” He said.

“I bring shame to my family.” Mai sniffed back the tears.

“Please come closer. And have a seat.” A veil was lifted, and things that weren’t there before now appeared as if by the stranger’s command. Once an empty room now there were two chairs. Taking a hesitant breath, she went over and sat down. 

He sat down across from her and looked so intently in Mai’s eyes that Mai felt like he saw into her soul. “Now, isn’t that better? Would you like some tea and biscuits?” Mai looked over and saw two delicate teacups next to a pot of steaming tea and a plate of biscuits. They were her favorites.

“What’s your name?” She asked and wiped her tears away with the back of her hand.

“Where are my manners?” He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, and handed it to her.

She forgot he hadn’t answered her question and wiped her face. 

“Please, child, tell me why you think you have brought shame to your family.”

“Do you know my family?” That was a silly question, she thought. How could he not know who her family was? “I am ungifted. I cannot reach the dragon inside me.” She bowed her head down in shame.

“Is that it?” He laughed. 

She looked up at him sharply. “It is enough. I am to be banished.”

“Calm down. You just need to be taught.” He stood up and went to a bookcase filled with books. He ran his finger down a few books until he was satisfied. “Here,” he said, thumping the book. He blew it off, and dust flew everywhere. “I guess it’s a bit dusty,” he said and laughed. He held it out, and she looked at it for a while. He placed it on her lap. “I’ll leave it to you,” he said and left through a door beside the bookshelf. 

She picked up the book and took a bite from the cookie. The book was worn, and its threading was coming undone, but there was no mistake; it had a red cover with a golden dragon, her family’s crest. She couldn’t believe what she read. It can’t be that easy. She slipped the book into her pocket and ran up the stairs.

Mai ran to the tree. Her tears had dried, but she still felt the trace of them on her cheeks. “I can’t take it anymore.” She screamed. The book said to eat the fruit, and then she will wake the dragon in her, and she would no longer be unremarkable. Mai would be more powerful than everyone, even her sister. She grabbed one of the glowing fruits and held it in her hands. What was she doing? She can’t eat the fruit. This tree is life, and if stripped of its fruit, all will end.

“What are you doing? Put the fruit down.” Celeste demanded. 

Celeste always demanded. Not anymore, Mai thought. Mai plucked the fruit from the tree and ate it. She felt a tightness in her chest like someone was squeezing her heart, and she fell to her knees. But then it passed, and there was a new feeling, a feeling of strength, and it felt like something had awoken inside of her. A fire. Her fire. Her dragon. She stood up, squared her shoulders, and faced her sister; she held her head high and finished the fruit.

Celeste stood there with her mouth open. “You can’t do that. You must stop. I command you to stop.”

“You command me. You no longer command me. You will listen to me now.”

“Sister, don’t you understand? You have damned yourself by eating that fruit.”

“I understand plenty. I was already damned. Now I will damn you all. I will eat all the fruit.”

“No, stop!” Celeste reached out to stop her. Mai felt her new power coursing through her veins; she simply waved her hand, and Celeste vanished in a puff of smoke and ash. 

Mai grabbed another fruit and ate it. Then she plucked several and sat down, piling them up on her dress like she was having a picnic. Her hunger was insatiable; the more she ate, the hungrier she became. There was a stillness in the garden. There were no sounds. The crickets were suddenly quiet, and the tree hung its limbs down low like it was weeping. She always liked the peacefulness of the garden. Her sister hated the garden, and Mai took a bite of the last fruit whose light had gone dim.