Arlene The White Oak Tree

Status: finished, edited, available to a good journal.

A short story:

Arlene Wootmacher was sick of trying and failing, of nothing ever getting better, of caring, of trying to please anyone, of trying to change anybody, of trying to change herself, and of having to give a shit about her husband and his constant judgment.

So she decided to become a tree.

Excerpt:

Just then, a strong breeze dropped from a dense, dark cloud rolling their way. Wind flicked and flapped Arlene’s long, naturally blonde hair like a flag, but she didn’t move.

Joel did. The gust about knocked him off his feet. That’s when she figured he was drunk already.

Clearly, Joel was embarrassed by the wobble, pissed even. “Get your skinny ass in the damn house, Arlene,” he commanded.

When she did not respond, he yanked her arm, but she had already stiffened some, and her feet had taken root. The strength of her steadfastness surprised Joel, far surpassing his expectations. His grip slipped. He stumbled and fell just as rain unleashed. 

Joel sat in the grass. Heavy rain pelted them both as they realized.