When Charlie saw the large county truck pull up to his house, he ran outside, planted himself in front of the large, old tree, and shouted, “No!”
The foreman of the crew addressed Charlie. “Look kid,” he said, “we’re just doing our job. This tree has to come down. Its branches hang over the street and it’s dangerous. Besides, this old tree’s seen better days.”
Tears welled in Charlie’s eyes. “This tree is my fortress, my castle. You can’t take it away from me.”
“It’s not me, kid, it’s the county,” the foreman said, signaling his crew to get started.
Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo by Sandra Cook.