Lone Tree

This is my first movella! This is a story I wrote ages ago as part of school work. It isn't that long but I want to know how people like my style of writing, and any improvements. Its a tragic love story with a wierd twist. Please read on...


1. 50 years before

The early morning sun far to the east, where the clouds had a pink tinge, made the scene before them magical. However, there was an unnatural feel to the surrounding air.The water rippled slightly along with the breeze. A silent mist swirled over the clear surface of the water, dancing over the trees, making rainbows in the puddles.Nothing was around, no movement in the rushes. The whole place was silent, no bird calls, no rustle of leaves or the snap of twigs under foot. The air around gave them a nasty nip of the cold. The harsh scrub on the riverbank looked silver, a pathway mashed through them. Someone had been here before, recently. Part of the water frozen over by ice seemed to capture the clouds underneath its surface. The trees, bare from all leaves and stripped of their previous glory, hung limply in the frosty morning air. Some stars still hung in the morning sky, fading by the second.


A lone boat lay at rest on the river bank, its name unreadable all except for the remaining letters of the boats name L N T E. The boat looked as good as new, the paint glossy and clean. No marks appeared to be on the boat. The underneath of the boat had left a wet trail in the sand, as if someone had dragged the boat up the bank. An old white parasol lay unfolded at the bottom of the boat along with a lone shoe, lost from its other half. Everything looked as though it had happened recently. In fact everything was exactly the same as 50 years before.


Shadows danced as the sun began to rise higher. The water turned as clear as a mirror. The reflections bobbed up and down along with the gentle ripples. The sandy banks, littered with pebbles and shells, looked dull against the pink sky. Driftwood lay scattered across the sands. White mist curled, enveloping anything two metres in all directions. All was peaceful and still. The ground was soggy from the storm last night, but the river level was as low as if there had just been a drought. The shadows started to grow as the sun gained height, faint at first but gradually getting stronger.


Out of the five children standing on the rivers edge, six shadows lay behind. No one had noticed the little shimmer in the air as something followed, tracking their movements.  Nor the quiet squelch of another pair of footsteps. Neither had they noticed white mist coming from somewhere behind as someone breathed, in and out, in and out. The children stared at the boat, confused. The neither parasol or the shoe had been there the day before when they came down, but then neither had the letters on the boats side.


Something had happened. Something wrong had occurred. Something that sent alarm bells through each of the children’s heads.  Something had caused this to happen. Something that was dangerous. Something had happened through the storm that made the world relive that moment 50 years ago once more…

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