Can trees lie? by Mikaela Miyamoto

Mikaela is writing a bunch of short stories for 13 Days 13 Shorts this year! To check out more stuff from Mikaela, visit www.mikaelamiyamoto.com

note from Mikaela: I've started posting videos of me reading the stories on TikTok and you might start to catch some extra clues to the overarching storyline! You can check them out here: https://www.tiktok.com/@kaelamiyamoto?_t=ZP-90wjbC3IF8J&_r=1

I decided to venture out into the garden to try and calm my nerves from the last few days. The door is still there, glowing and enticing. I’ve chosen to ignore it for now. As I walked through the kitchen to head outside I passed my grandmother. “Be careful out there, it’s very hot today. You don’t wanna get heatstroke,” she called out. I nodded and assured her I’d be careful. I grabbed a hat, a pair of gloves, and a basket before heading out into the unknown. I walked through her verdant rose garden taking in the sweet smell. Then I made my way past the bird bath keeping an ear out for the humming of our friend, but heard nothing. I finally stopped in front of the large grove of orange and lemon trees at the side of her property just before the fence. I set down my basket, slipped on the gloves, and began to pick fruit. It was almost meditative, repeating the same action over and over, feeling the sweat begin to bead along my forehead and wiping it away with my sleeve. I began to feel at peace. I was reminded of how much I love my grandmother’s house and her backyard and just being around her. She made me feel safe and loved. She took care of me. I really missed her. Although she was just in the house a couple hundred yards away. I guess I missed the way I was used to feeling around here, which had recently been replaced with a sense of dread and fear. That’s what I really missed. My train of thought was disturbed by what I initially thought to be wind whistling through the trees. I turned towards the sound and saw a face staring back at me. It looked vaguely like my own but younger and somehow slightly different. I thought maybe someone had made some creepy carving in the tree when its mouth began to move and its eyes looked around. “She didn’t come with you right?” I looked around myself then shrugged. “Good. Listen to me. This is the last warning we can give you before it’s too late. You must leave. You don’t belong here. You must-“ Before it could continue I interjected, “I’m tired of everyone telling me I ‘don’t belong here’ and I ‘need to leave’. Where am I supposed to go? Why don’t I belong here? This is my family’s home. We ALL live here. Why am I the only one being singled out?” The tree stared at me pityingly before stating, “That isn’t your mother or your sister. It just wants you to think they are.” I continued to interrogate the tree, “What do you mean by that? Who wants me to think that? Where am I???” “It wants you to stay because you’ve been here for so long. It thinks you’re supposed to be here now. But it’s not your turn. We’ve given you a way out. Please take it.” I was about to ask another question when I heard the crunching of leaves behind me. My grandmother was quickly advancing towards me and the tree with a fruit grabber and bucket in hand. My head whipped behind me to the warn the face but when I turned it was gone. My grandmother announced, “I decided to come and help you pick some fruit like old times! I couldn’t leave you to it by yourself.” We picked the fruit in silence, the only sounds being the plopping of the oranges into the bucket and the shaking of the branches as we pulled fruit off the tree. After a long while I whispered to my grandmother, “Why don’t I belong here? Everything says I don’t belong here. Where are we? Are you really my grandmother?” She halted her movements and stared at me before asking, “Why would you even think to ask any of that? Of course I’m your grandmother. We’re at our home. I love you and I want you here.” “The tree told me. I don’t belong here. And my family isn’t really here. My mom and sister aren’t here.” Her lips pursed in annoyance. She looked around, then at me. In a quiet but stern voice she replied, “The trees lie. I told you before. Do not listen to them.” She turned away from me and back towards the tree, aggressively picking fruit. Under my breath I ran through all the things the tree had said to me. It was only when I repeated the words “not my turn” that she paused and glanced toward me, before sighing and slowly continuing her movement.