While riding my bike one evening, I was struck by an especially colorful stand of sycamore trees. The following night, I went out to sketch one of them:
Strangely enough, while I was drawing, I suddenly found myself recollecting a story I'd written in third grade called "The Odd Tree." Anyway, the story concerned this sentient tree with rainbow-like bark, and an ignorant/greedy/villainous/insert negative adjective woodsman trying to chop it down. I ended up pulling a deus ex machina, and a beneficent fairy (I think she may have initially planted our deciduous protagonist, now that I think of it) turned the tree into an actual rainbow, saving it from destruction.
Hey, I was eight or nine when I wrote it; give me a break.
Strangely enough, while I was drawing, I suddenly found myself recollecting a story I'd written in third grade called "The Odd Tree." Anyway, the story concerned this sentient tree with rainbow-like bark, and an ignorant/greedy/villainous/insert negative adjective woodsman trying to chop it down. I ended up pulling a deus ex machina, and a beneficent fairy (I think she may have initially planted our deciduous protagonist, now that I think of it) turned the tree into an actual rainbow, saving it from destruction.
Hey, I was eight or nine when I wrote it; give me a break.
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