Short story
The eyes are her most striking feature, inset into her deeply, bigger than they were ever expected to be. The colour of conkers, ripe chestnuts — reflecting no light, only devouring it. Lashes like unruly brush; thick and long, framing the deep curves of her sockets. They enchant, as they lay luring, dragging you inwardly — beckoning.
An unusual face to her, her nose short, and a prominent chin like those before her, with hair that never really grew like the others, fine, cut above her ears that were also larger than expected. She wasn’t particularly tall for her kind, a wispy frame, but her branches looked in proportion. The trunk of her body was obviously feminine, it came from an ancient line, each generation sharing the same prominent curves, the way they went out and curved in, unique to her kin.
Her roots were somewhat of a deformity that only she saw, growing towards each other, entangled, unable to stretch out; they became choked as they gasped under the weight of one another, instead of sprawling out and reaching far like the others did.
She was a somewhat awkward being, carefree and ever-loving in nature, a spirit that could not be contained by her physical cocoon, yet it is kept secret, never shared . She toyed with people, drew them away from her unsightly roots, her fine hair cut short, her deep ember eyes, she hung her branches low and shrouded herself in pity, she was not without flaws, often screeching with sounds she was unable to control, it irritated the others.
She hated the males, they antagonised her, drew her away from the secret spirit that she held inside — it dulled a little each time they passed her, mocking her stature, overpowering her will. Right from the beginning she felt herself grow colder around them, she would never be one of them, and will never want to be either.
These traits would go unnoticed by the many, the twitch of her lips, the shadow in her eyes, the funny way she walks, and her fiery temperament cloaked, these are the things only her kin would know, that only her mother would know. She watches in amusement, taking pleasure in her peculiarity. They share the same tight, twisted bark. A lifeline to one another.
She knew every being of her was Elm.
Having had many names, she is Ulmus.
But I named her Ellowen.
