THE ARROGANCE OF MAN (AN EXTRACT FROM THE PRELUDE RETELLING)

The sun has long since left its blazing trail across the sky, and the cove is smothered in murky darkness, but the heat lingers still. Stars litter the sky and the moon peaks out from behind its shroud of clouds occasionally. It is peaceful.
Suddenly, a young man tears into the clearing, chest heaving, heart pounding. He whips his head around, searching. There is excitement in his eyes, leaden with an almost indistinguishable bout of hunger.
It seems as if he cannot find what he needs, so he begins to wander.
He approaches me, thinking my blossoming boughs are beckoning him forward. How naive. I almost laugh at his foolishness.
He stops and squints at my dancing branches, hands on hips. I watch as his eyes follow the cord from my trunk to the boat, tethered to the rocks. He does not notice. The moon reveals herself at this time, casting a shimmering glow on the little vessel. She’s teasing him. His eyes widen as he recognises the once imperceptible object, laden in all its glory. He reaches out greedily, hands grasping at the air as he throws a quick glance over his shoulder. If only he knew.
He finally reaches the knot and with clumsy fingers tries to untether it from me, stealing the little boat. It does not work.
I wait for him to give up, go on home as most do. He does not.
Instead, he pulls out a small knife, its tip glinting. It slashes through the bonds. He pushes the small boat out towards the shore, tearing it away from me. He drives it forward as water begins to ripple at his feet.
He jumps in as the boat starts to move, paddling swiftly. His eyes light up as multiple brightly coloured fish dance around him, the moon casting glittering rays on their delicate scales.
It does not last though.
His eyes quickly turn away from this beauty to survey his own ‘stealth’ instead. How foolish. A smirk creeps over his features as mischief glints in his eyes. He congratulates himself on his supposed skill and defiance.
He adventures on, out of my view. Humans, I think, are always so sure of themselves.
His greed vexes me, and his inability to appreciate beauty does too.
I cannot wait to witness the look on his face, as he realises his stupidity, as fear begins to mar his arrogant features.
I must wait, be patient. I allow myself my own small smirk.
As my brethren’s leaves rustle, I hear the stories being whispered about him, to those he cannot see.
He continues forward, unaware of the craggy cliffside. The sailing is smooth. I am glad that the moon is hiding herself now, waiting to pounce.
They say he is laughing now, at those who doubted him, said he wouldn’t. At least they had some common sense.
I wait with bated breath until finally, we can attack.
The moon reveals herself, glittering onto the craggy peak, full of darkness. How I would have relished the look on his face as he realises our power. Alas, I will have to wait, and until then I will allow my kin to savour his fear.
The once-calm water explodes, currents pulling him in all directions. I hear oars being frantically pushed, slapping the water. He begins to shout, even more so as he notices the towering dark peak through his haze of fear. The night sky creates shadows and depth, offering the peak life. It moves as one of us. He is panicking. I smile.
He begins to gain some sense and heaves the oars, bringing him back to me, his supposed sanctuary.
I laugh as huge gusts of wind echo my joy. Now, I am relishing every moment.
He reaches me, drenched with sweat, pulling himself onto the shore. He rolls onto his back, chest heaving once again as he longs for safety.
His clothing is torn, hair soaked with spittle and his eyes are frantic, searching, all traces of mischief gone. Fear lights them up again, as the night sky makes the craggy peak look like a cunning predator.
He screams again.
He finally makes his way towards me, taking advantage of the blanket of safety my willow leaves offer him.
His breath begins to slow, his heartbeats regain their normal rhythm and now I, am delighted.
I can feel my fellow brethren watch me, as the night sky begins to darken. He grabs my lowermost bough, hoisting himself up. He offers me no thanks.
My sap boils with rage.
He ambles along as if he won. I can feel the anger suffocating me, from all of us. Crash, he falls as we whip a storm of leaves around him. He gets up and begins to run until another gust of wind forces him down.
Tears streak his face as he hears us, finally, in the flurries of leaves and howling winds. He looks up, pleading for the moon, but she is with us. There is nothing to help him now. Eventually, he makes it home to his cottage, with trembling hands and grazes littering his body. His eyes stay wide.
Sleep now frightens him as every time his eyes shut he is reminded of us and our force. Our power.
The sun continues to take his blazing trail across the sky as the man is plagued with nightmares of us.