Читать книгу The Blue Tree - Tillmann Rautenberg - Страница 4

The black roots were everywhere. They hung threw the clouds, squeezed themselves through cracks, trees and walls, cracked the weakest of them wide open, covered windows, spread itself beneath the ground, lifted the asphalt, grew upon itself, back up into the sky. Black roots blocked the light of the sun. Whispers could be heard but no one spoke. Only a few listened but no one wanted to.

In this most dense, dark and leafless jungle wandered a small child. It had withheld the urge to sleep for three days, as it had witnessed its horrors on her parents motionless bodies. It dragged a stuffed teddy bear along with it, its only companion became heavier and heavier. As he slipped its fingers, the rest of the child's consciousness slipped, faded, became a dream while it still fell.

„Oh Child, oh Kin, even you are born of this endless feast. Poor unwanted child, oh you burden you, you bad, bad accident you. How could you?“

◆◆◆

It was dark and silent. Nothing happened for a long time.

Humanity had vanished.

The black fruit remained alone. It hang down a twig it had grown itself on, part of many branches that intertwined themselves to an august trunk.

Kin, it thought, oh Kin, it contemplated, I have devoured you.

The tree had no leaves and the fruit wondered if it should have any to celebrate the occasion.