A History of Kindness

By Kirstie McKinnon | Posted: Monday Dec 02, 2024

When Trees Fall

FICTION

March 1889

He thinks the tree is kahikatea. A Māori word slow and disjointed on his tongue. The name comes to him like a chant. Kahikatea.

For the first three days the pain was bad and the thirst was terrible. Now they are a constant roar.

How can he have lived all this time under it, and not known its name? The smells of sap from broken limbs, and tiny rough green leaves blend together with sawdust from the smashed wooden shingles of his hut. The bark, where the tree is not broken, is grey with lichen. He knows he must stink, but all he can smell is resin.

His heart continues to beat, he wonders how and when it will stop, pinned down as he is by the tree. Kahikatea. The pain is an avalanche

Continue reading ... When Trees Fall - by Kirstie McKinnon