Rock Martin is a geologist from Indiana, Pennsylvania who explores the human spirit through his writing. A Penn State graduate, he depicts life’s challenges where the main struggle lies within. Rock enjoys fitness, camping, and hiking with his wife and young son, finding inspiration in nature and resilience.
The cool morning air whipped across Wade’s face, carrying the fresh scents of misshapen, vibrant tomatoes, jars of honey, and bundles of herbs. He breathed deep, carefully inspecting each cucumber while keeping a close eye on his son, Cole.
“Can we get these for Casper?”
Wade turned and found Cole pointing at the dog biscuits he had discovered. Pausing for only a moment, Wade sighed, took a peach from his basket, and returned it to the stand. “Yes, get some biscuits for Casper.”
Cole darted to the counter, where a weathered man greeted them. Wade began counting his bills, but an unexpected shimmer caught his eye.
“What are those?” Wade peered over the counter at the black, iridescent orbs.
The man looked up with a grim expression, the wisdom of the land flashing in his eyes. “Trouble, son. Best leave ‘em be.”
“Trouble?” Wade pressed, intrigued.
“You don’t want those.”
Wade stared back, and the man relented. “Son, these are golden seeds.”
“Golden seeds?”
The man’s eyebrows wrinkled. “Yeah, they’re not for sale.”
“Why are they here?”
The man locked eyes with Wade, pausing an extra beat.
“Can I buy just one?” Wade asked.
“You ain’t hearing me.” The man leaned in and studied Wade. “You can’t afford them, anyway.”
Wade huffed. “Fine, the produce and dog biscuits.”
“Looks like… $17.50.”
Wade handed a twenty-dollar bill to the man, who gathered Wade’s change. A coin slipped through Wade’s fingers, falling to the ground, and as the man reached down to retrieve the quarter, Wade snatched one of the seeds.
The man’s eyes darted to the counter, and he sighed, handing over Wade’s change. “Good luck, son”
Wade sped home, fending off Cole’s questions. Casper awaited their arrival, tackling Cole and burying him in licks, his tail wagging swiftly through the air. Wade ran his hand through Casper’s fur, then hurried inside, put the vegetables away, and filled a gallon jug with water. He had the perfect spot in mind, far behind the house in the back field. After grabbing a shovel, he raced through the door.
His pulse thumped in his ears as he thrust the shovel into the soft ground. After removing a few mounds of dirt and some rocks, he carefully placed the seed in the hole, covered it, and poured water over it. Wade took a deep breath and tempered his excitement. Maybe the old man was just messing with him.
He returned each day to water the seed, patiently awaiting any sign of growth.
Three weeks later, a small sapling broke through the soil. Just a week later, two seemingly equal branches sprouted, each adorned with a leaf that was an unnatural, radiant shade of green. Wade waited, still unsure of what he’d planted.
The tree grew like nothing he’d ever seen, and a month later was almost as tall as he, with numerous branches reaching in all directions. Rough, black bark covered the trunk, oozing clear, sticky sap in places, and the leaves were the size of dinner plates, each the same odd green as the initial sprouts. The first buds appeared a few weeks later, and they doubled in size each day, growing into bright green melons, as round as bell peppers, but twice as long.
When he felt they must be ready, Wade harvested all the melons he could find, rushed back to the house and hid them in the kitchen. Later that night, when the house was asleep, he laid the melons on the kitchen counter and grabbed a long knife. The commotion drew Casper to the kitchen, who sat quietly, his eyes fixed on the melons.
After cutting one side from top to bottom, Wade wrapped his hands around the green fruit and pushed his thumbs into the slice. The fruit tore open, and Wade gasped as the melon revealed its contents.
Mixed with seeds were solid gold nuggets.
In a sudden frenzy, Wade cut them all open, sending seeds and melon flesh flying. He collected the nuggets from each melon, ignoring the juice dripping from his fingers.
Over a pound of gold shimmered back at him from the counter.
A weight lifted and tears flowed down his cheeks as he considered what this meant for his family’s financial struggles. He turned to Casper with a huge smile, leaned down, and planted a kiss on his furry cheek. A faint stirring in the bedroom pulled Wade back to the moment, and he swiftly cleaned up the kitchen, hiding the gold before silently sneaking back to the bedroom for the night.
The next day Wade returned to the tree to find a new set of melons ready to be picked. Again, under the cover of night, he collected the nuggets and hid them. The next day, he cashed them in at the local buyer.
Thus, his new routine began, and within a few weeks Wade had paid off the house and bought a new car. Before long he’d fixed up their house, bought his wife Molly new clothes and jewelry, new toys and clothes for Cole, the best dog food money could buy for Casper.
The golden tree quickly outpaced his income, so he quit his job at the factory.
Molly stopped him the next day. “Wade, what’s going on?”
Unable to hide his smile, Wade fumbled a pouch onto the kitchen counter, its contents chiming with a soft clink.
Molly looked up from her mug, brows lifting slightly. “That’s… nice,” she said, her voice flat as dishwater.
Wade stood frozen, the grin slipping from his face like a mask no longer needed. “We hit it! The big time! It’s the golden tree!”
The words tumbled over each other like kids in a race. Molly recoiled, as if they’d slapped her in the face before falling flat on the floor.
“I don’t know about this, Wade,” she said. “I’m not sure this tree is right for us.”
“What? Why not?”
“You’re … different. You’re spending too much. And have you seen the tree? Why is everything around it dead?”
“What are you talking about?”
Wade raced to the window, and sure enough, all the grass, flowers, and trees within thirty feet of the tree were dead.
“Well, I don’t know. Maybe they’re not getting enough water. What does it matter? We’re finally comfortable!” He inhaled sharply and continued. “People treat me with respect now. They like me. I’m better. I don’t get those … looks.”
“Those people don’t even know you. Why is their approval important?”
“We were living paycheck to paycheck! Having to choose between buying a peach or a dog biscuit! I mean, why are we having this conversation?”
“Wade, we were living a normal life. We had good jobs. Cole was happy. We had each other.”
Wade huffed and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. His boots struck the dirt as he marched toward the tree, his eyes narrowed on the familiar landscape. The tree, heavy with fruit, stood tall, but the once-vibrant grass at its base had withered to a dry, brittle brown.
Crouching, he brushed his fingers against the earth. That’s when he saw the scattered remnants of a small rabbit family. He’d seen them nesting a few weeks ago, but their fur was now matted and lifeless, decaying much faster than they should.
Wade stood and approached the tree, noticing that the air suddenly felt stifling, oppressive. He swallowed hard, his gaze drifting to the tree’s branches, now circling the tree in a thick web, each ending in crooked, jagged edges that curled back toward the trunk. They resembled fingers, like that of an elderly woman, waiting to grab an unsuspecting child strolling past. Something dark slithered down his back and he couldn’t suppress a shudder.
His eyes were nevertheless drawn to the radiant fruit, bouncing and swaying in the breeze. His hands caressed the smooth rind, and he shook any concerns from his head. Wade gathered all the fruit he could find—the biggest harvest yet.
As he picked the last melon, movement caught his attention and, with a jolt, he noticed the branches moving closer. Lurching forward, he somehow escaped through a gap in the thick mass of branches and immediately looked back. All was silent and unmoving; so, still watching the tree, he made his way back to the house.
Molly’s words echoing in his head, Wade packed the family up and moved them to a new house in the nicer part of town.
The new house brought a different world. The neighbors, who had barely given them a second glance, now greeted them with eager smiles. They’d never cared about Wade before, but were all too happy to step into his life.
Wade was quickly measured by this new crowd, and he dove headfirst into every risky venture they suggested. He threw money around with reckless abandon, in numbers that, only months ago, were alien to him. Every move brought him deeper into their world. Every move left more of himself behind.
His dealings escalated, but the tree’s production had slowed since moving and wasn’t keeping up. The ring of death had also slowed.
Nightfall.
Wade’s heart thumped as he watched Cole hug Casper goodnight and Molly tuck herself in before slipping quietly out of the house. He lifted Casper into the car, noting the dog’s tail wagging happily, then got in and began driving. The way was silent, the hum of the engine the only sound between them.
The old house.
Wade’s movements were deliberate and his grip firm as he clipped Casper’s leash. As Wade tugged him from the car, Casper hesitated, his paws sinking into the soft earth even as his ears perked up, as if he knew. His body stiffened as confusion flickered in his eyes, but Wade’s grip tightened, ignoring the dog’s resistance and dragging him toward the eerie silhouette of the golden tree.
The tree loomed in the moonlight, its crooked branches casting long, twisted shadows across the ground, beckoning him forward. Wade kneeled briefly, securing Casper’s leash to the trunk. The dog whimpered, a low, pitiful sound that tugged at Wade’s resolve, but he merely stood up, took a steady breath, and watched as the tree secured its victim.
Casper’s whines grew softer as Wade turned and walked away, his footsteps slow but unwavering. The dog’s cries faded into the distance as Wade slid back into the car, the night swallowing the sound. He drove home with careful precision, slipping back into bed as though nothing had changed.
The morning came and, before exchanging any pleasantries, Wade went to the tree. It had worked. He felt a smile spread across his face as he stepped over Casper’s lifeless body to collect the new fruits.
When he returned, Molly was waiting outside, a knowing anger emanating from her eyes.
“I can’t believe you.”
“What are you talking about?” He played dumb, but Molly had him figured.
“We’re leaving.”
“What? Why?”
“You know why. If you can do this to Cole, I don’t want him around you anymore.”
As she turned and walked away, the world he’d poured himself into unraveled, scattering like dry leaves in the wind.
***
A week-old beard covered his face when a knock echoed through the empty home. Two large men dressed in black stood on his front step and all he could do was stare.
“Word is you’re sittin’ on a gold stash,” one of them muttered. “Where is it?” When Wade didn’t answer, they welcomed themselves in, and he found himself pressed against the living room wall. “I’m not gonna repeat myself.”
“You heard wrong,” Wade rasped as his hands trembled.
The men pulled Wade from the wall and beat him, turning his face into a bloody mess and bruising his midsection.
“OK!” Wade wheezed, raising his hands, pleading for them to stop. “I’ll show you.”
The men lifted him from the floor and threw him into the back of a car. Wade’s lips barely moved as he gave them the address.
When they arrived, the men dragged Wade from the car. “Where is it?”
“Follow me,” Wade murmured as he stumbled through the field.
There it was. Now a colossus, its branches created an almost impenetrable lattice that extended to the ground. There were only a few small openings providing access to the fruit, which glistened in the moonlight.
“In the fruit you’ll find the gold,” Wade said.
“You must think we’re stupid.”
Wade shook his head, but kept his eyes averted.
“OK.” The man grabbed hold of Wade’s shirt collar and pulled him close. “If you’re lying, you’re dead.”
The men squeezed through the branches and huddled around the trunk. Wade sat on the dead, crunchy grass and slumped forward, feeling blood dripping down his chin. The men’s conversation was interrupted by the sound of the fruit tearing open, followed by gasps and howls. Wade knew what came next.
The first scream pierced the night, sharp and desperate. The men’s voices trembled as they begged for help, their cries smothered by the heavy branches that swarmed like hungry tendrils, pressing their bodies against the rough bark and pulling them into the sticky sap. Their pleas grew more frantic as they twisted and wriggled in agony and, just as their wails reached a gut-churning crescendo, they fell silent, yielding to the calm night.
Wade pushed himself off the ground, his body sore, and his mind clouded with disgust. He glared at the tree, and a bitter sneer curled his lips. He limped back to the old house and found an axe in the garage.
The first swing sunk into the dark tree, sending a violent tremor down its trunk, vibrating through its twisted limbs. Wade yanked the axe back and struck again, driving the blade deeper. The branches stretched toward him in a violent horde as Wade chopped them back. He swung at the trunk again, sinking the axe into the tree’s rotten heart with unsettling ease, and the tree groaned in protest. He swung again and again, the sound of cracking timber filling the night. With one final blow, the tree gave way, its massive form crashing to the earth with a deep, pained cry.
The morning sun broke over the horizon as Wade collapsed, exhausted. His hands shook, and the axe’s blade gleamed with dark, sticky sap, like the blood of some monstrous creature. His gaze lingered on the jagged stump until an unexpected shimmer caught his eye.
The tags from Casper’s collar.
Wade pulled them from the dirt, the warm memories rushing back. The road back would be jagged and steep, but it was the only one left to him now. His grip tightened around the collar, and a single tear rolled down his cheek. The old man’s eyes again flashed in his mind.
Good luck, son.
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