Write a short story ending to the following prompt:
All around him, lonely crickets are calling for company and in his chest, his heartbeat is slow and steady, even though his mind is working overtime. After a while the same voice speaks again, but more distant, like it’s traveling with the wind now.
‘Come darling one. I’ve been waiting for you.’
Even though Jack is still convinced that no one is really talking to him, he can’t resist asking the voice a question, although he really doesn’t expect an answer.
‘Who are you?’
‘I am your destiny.’
‘You’re my destiny? Do you mean to say…’
This time the only answer he receives is the faint sound of jingling bells.
‘Of course’, he murmured, ‘I can’t be alive anymore. I would’ve never been this brave in real life. But if this is Heaven, why is it so dark and cold?’
All of a sudden, a smoky blue light appears in the distance. Magical and mysterious, it lures him to something he could not yet see, but he could feel in his bones that he’s been there before.
‘Jack?’ the voice called.
Warily he answered: ‘Yes?’
‘Come here, Jack.’
Frantically he turns in all directions, searching for the owner of the voice. Could it possibly be an angel?
He really didn’t picture death to feel like this. ‘Where are you?’
‘Come closer, come sit with me.’
Following the sound of the last words spoken, he looked up and saw the silvery blue light emerging from around a willow tree in the distance. It was the most majestic weeping willow he’d ever seen in his life. Instead of the average 12 meters, this willow was so tall that he couldn’t even see the top from afar. Its lanky branches hung lazily to the ground, covered in leaves of sea foam green.
As he stood with his one hand cupped over his eyes, trying to see more clearly, he heard the sound of tiny bells ringing again, as the branches swung around in the breeze.
Answers
Jack sat beside the tree, wishing he knew where this voice was coming from when he heard it again.
"Jack, you have found me, I am the willow tree."
Jack started in surprise, "But that's not possible, willow trees can't talk, unless," Jack's voice dwindled away as he looked all around him, as far as he could see, trees surrounded him, some were young, some old, some average, maybe, this was where he was supposed to be, in this forest, where the dead can finally rest.
Jack closed his eyes, he felt himself merge with the soil, he, too, was becoming a tree, he knew he had a choice of what tree he wanted, and he chose oak because oak trees are simple but magnificent. Jack felt his arms branch out and sprout leaves, his feet became roots, and he, as a whole, became an oak tree, a young one, as he was only seventeen.