My sister says that the wind blows hard and the branches sway wildly because the trees were mad. She looked up at me and asked, “Are they fighting?” I shook my head no. Was I lying? Maybe.
It was years ago when whirlwinds knocked down thousands of trees. It wasn’t Mother Nature’s fault, she was always trying to help. It was the spirits’ fault: the wind spirits and the tree spirits. I should know. I’ve seen them fight.
I finished feeding her the remaining apples on her plate. She then grinned and took my hand and we both went to the room. She flopped herself onto her bed on the other side of the room. The sun was shining, but a few clouds were floating in the sky. I sat on my spinning chair and started reading.
“Kiko,” were the shouts of my sister, Anne. Younger by seven years, so she should call me kuya. I was about to correct her when she fell from the bed, a loud thump accompanying the fall. I didn’t see how it happened, but it did. She was crying. “Where does it hurt?” I asked, running to her side and helping her sit back on her bed. She wiped her tears and pointed to her head.
Why did it have to be her head? I tried to feel if there were any bumps, but it might be serious. “Call the tree spirits,” she said in between sniffling. I froze. How did she… “Call them, Kiko,” she repeated, “Do the calling thing again.” I could tell her excitement by the tone of her voice. How could she manage to be excited when she just fell from her bed? “Do it,” she urged, “I demand you to.”
“Demand? Tree spirits don’t like whiny children, so they won’t come if you demand me to. And they just ran out of the cure for your head.”
“Please call them, Ki…” she paused, looking at me. I raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I mean… Kuya.” I smiled, “That’s good. I’ll call them. But you have to look away.”
She pouted, but nodded anyway, closing her eyes. I know I told her to look away, and she might squint her eyes to see me, but I just shook it off. I’d trust her just this time. I opened the window in the middle of our room, waving my arms from side to side, like what trees do when wind catches their branches.
I heard a giggle. I knew she would look. “It’s fine to open your eyes now,” I said, even though I knew she already was.
A faint glow surrounded the place, and a small trio appeared on the windowsill. There was a girl with moss for hair. And there were two boys, one had branches for arms, and the other had leaves for eyes. They all had skin as dark and rough as wood.
Anne looked at them with sparkling eyes. I crossed my arms and grinned, “Alright. You three know what to do.” The small beings nodded, and poured green swirls around my sister from little bottles, making Anne feel dizzy. I just watched them perform their magic.
My sister will be cured soon.
Elisha Lilith S. Aguinaldo
Elisha Lilith S. Aguinaldo is a coming eighth grade student in the University of the Philippines Rural High School. She writes fictional poems and stories, and some fanfiction. Email Elisha at: firstname.lastname@example.org.