TITLE: PLANTED (I CAN WATER MYSELF)
GENRE: YA SF
Thorns spiked from the tips of my twigs, as I scurried along the branch, prepared to drop onto humans to save my little ones, but I stopped, letting water fall to the earth instead of me. My palms flew to my eyes to silence the waste.
Mother said, have patience, watch, learn, and when it hurts, think about something else. “Stone had been known to move and trees to speak,” I whispered Macbeth. The oak, sensing my stress, released calming pheromones.
If he lived today, would William welcome us?
A human enveloped in white from head to roots, plodded from the dull colored cocoon covering my landing pod. He carried my rooting box. He carried my children. Children was their word. Think about something else. The first mutilation I deciphered to learn their language in the dead forest named library. Its words helped when a female worker had asked my name.
“Sam I am,” I said.
She laughed. “Where’s your Mother, Sam?”
I pointed upward.
She touched my limb. “You poor dear.”
I almost forgot. Never reveal Mother orbited Earth.
No, thinking of the genocide called books did not help. I imagined my tiny boxed buds, screaming words from Yertle the Turtle and Gertrude McFuzz. “I know, up on top you are seeing great sights, but down here at the bottom we, too, should have rights.”
Leaves crackled underneath. More humans, green like the forest, with turtle shells on their heads, prodded the bushes with stingers. They had my saplings now they wanted me.