The Downward Spiral

A poignant tale about the life of a leaf

The leaf started on its journey to the ground, it had waited days to be given its turn. All his fellow leaves had already descended, leaves that he had grown up with from mere buds to full grown individuals.

George had been the first to go, what an honour it had been for him, the first on his twig to brave the elements. In fact it was rumoured that he was the first on the whole branch. The branches being so interwoven it was hard to get official confirmation, but he was certainly one of the pioneering leaves.

The rest of us had watched as he let go, it was awe inspiring. We watched as he rode the wind and sailed not directly to the ground as we had expected, but right over the large pond that was a full twenty feet away.

I remember a whole group of leaves on a nearby twig actually wishing him to fall in the water, just because George had stolen their thunder and left before they were ready.

He didn't of course, no not George. He had been practising for weeks, fluttering in every little breeze, perfecting his movements to the extreme. The Major had been very impressed with his work, and had allowed him to go a full week before he was due to receive his flying stripes.

What a sight it was as he sailed inches above the rippling water and rose at the far side to nestle gently on the ground. The whole tree, even the ones that had been hoping that we would fail, suddenly broke into an impromptu rustle. It went on for many minutes as the rest of us all showed our appreciation of his manoeuvrability and courage.

What an impossible act to follow. Numerous leaves had then attempted the same, and failed miserably. Some not even making it halfway across before ditching in the drink and having to float across the rest of the way to dry land.

Some of the more restrained leaves just went for the direct spiral to the ground, the idea being that at least they would be together. Whereas the ones that rode the wind and showed their skills were left to fend for themselves.

The leaves from whole twigs aimed for the same spot but very rarely more than two or three made it anywhere close to each other. Friendships that were made over many months enjoying each others company were suddenly ripped apart by distance.

But now as the final leaf now pirouetted towards the ever nearing patch of grass that he was aiming for he heard no applause, no good lucks, nothing. He was merely deafened by the silence.

Being last to leave the tree was because he feared the outcome, but in the end he had been left the loneliest leaf in the world.

As he now plunged ever nearer to the small group that he had pinpointed from way above he expected some sort of welcome, but once again nothing.

As he landed between the other leaves he heard a faint voice whisper.

“We have been trying to let you know not to jump. Everyone is dying down here. We don't know what it is, maybe the air".

The voice trailed off to nothing and the final leaf was left all alone again, with nothing but death to look forward to.

Surrounded by decaying bodies the leaf wished for the end to come, which it did do very quickly.

His last moments were spent looking up at the tree that had been his lifeblood.

He could see the new buds appearing on the branches and wished that he could warn them. Tell them about this cruel and painful death that had dealt with all his fellow leaves, and was now about to deal with him.

The End

Author's Note

Written while sitting in an upstairs barn while watching the wind strip a tree of its leafs.

Reviews

[Woody]

beautiful fantasy. very unusual. it would never have crossed my mind to make plants talk and think.