Once there was a tree
and she loved a little boy.
And everyday the boy would come
and he would gather her leaves
and make them into crowns
and play king of the forest.
He would climb up her trunk
and swing from her branches
and eat apples.
And the apples stained his mouth a strange color
and it wasn’t green and it wasn’t red
and the stain wouldn’t go away
no matter how much his mother scrubbed his mouth
after he’d eaten them
(she loved the little boy very much)
And they would play hide-and-go-seek.
And when he was tired,
he would sleep in her shade.
(she loved him best when he was asleep)
(he never woke up with quite the same color eyes)
(and his mother hated to hug him after he came home from the tree)
(though she could never explain why)
And the boy loved the tree, very much.
And the tree was happy.
But time went by.
And the boy grew older.
And the tree was often alone.
Then one day the boy came to the tree
and the tree said, “Come, Boy, come and
climb up my trunk and swing from my
branches and eat apples and play in my
shade and be happy.”
And the boy did.
And it seemed to him that time passed differently
in the shadow of the tree
and it seemed to him that he felt dizzy
after only a few minutes of playing
but the sun was gone, just the same.
(the tree was a very giving tree)
Take my apples, Boy,” said the tree, “and sell them.
Then you will have money and
you will be happy.”
“No thank you,” the boy said politely. “I really
should be getting back to the city.”
“I insist,” said the tree,
and it seemed to the boy that the ground grew hot and hummed around him
and his wrists hurt and his throat hurt until his mouth opened
and he said “Yes”
and the tree purred.
Hand to God, the tree purred
and then he was sick in the bushes.
So the boy climbed up the
tree and gathered her apples
and carried them away.
And the tree was happy.
And the boy stayed feeling sick.
And the tree stood a little taller, and grew back
all of her apples,
and then some.
And the apples weren’t quite green
and they weren’t quite red.
But the boy stayed away for a long time….
and the tree was angry.
And then one day the boy came back
and the tree shook.
and she said, “Come, Boy, climb up my trunk
and swing from my branches and be happy.”
“Please,” said the boy.
“I have a home. I have a wife. I have a family,” he said.
I didn’t want to come back. I don’t–
I don’t remember how I got here.
Where are they? Have you seen them?”
“I have no house,” said the tree.
“I can’t remember their names,” said the boy
almost to himself.
“The forest is my house,” said the tree lightly,
so lightly the boy could almost think
he imagined hearing her voice.
“But you may cut off
my branches and build a
house. Then you will be happy.”
“Yes,” the boy said slowly,
“Then I will be happy.”
And so the boy cut off her branches
to build his house.
And he forgot the names of his wife
and his children
and the house outside the forest
(he had never been outside the forest)
and he ate nothing but apples
and grew thinner and more thin
and smiled every day
and fell down often
(he was so clumsy)
And the tree was happy.
But then one day the boy wandered a bit further than usual
and he crossed a stream
and as he crossed the stream his mind came back to itself.
And the boy ran. The boy ran and he shook and he ran and he vomited and he ran.
It took the police a week to find out his name
and his last known address
and his family cried
and he cried
and they hugged
and the tree knew where he was.
The boy stayed away for a long time.
And when he came back,
the tree was so happy
she could hardly speak.
“Come, Boy,” she whispered,
“come and play.”
“I am too old and sad to play,”
said the boy.
“No, you’re not,”
the tree said. “You’re just a boy.”
and for a minute it seemed to the boy
that she was right
and his knees didn’t ache
and his ears weren’t fogged
and he could almost hear his mother calling him home for dinner
instead of being dead and laid out in the ground
face turned up in the dirt
(which is where she really was)
“Cut down my trunk
and make a boat,” said the tree.
“Then you can sail away…
and be happy.”
And so the boy cut down her trunk
and made a boat and sailed away.
But even though the wind blew
and the waves slopped against the side of the boat
the boy knew he wasn’t going anywhere.
“I know this isn’t real,” he whispered
and he knew the tree was smiling
and he was right.
There was no boat.
And he had never left her,
she had never let him leave her,
not even when thought he had.
She had never let him really leave her.
And the tree was happy.
“I am sorry, Boy,”
said the tree,” but I have nothing
left to give you -”
“You have never given me anything,” the boy said.
“How long have you kept me here, really?”
The tree ignored the question. ”My apples are gone.”
“My teeth are too weak
for apples,” said the boy. “Am I old? Did you let me grow old here, alone?”
“My branches are gone,”
said the tree. ” You
cannot swing on them – ”
“I am too old to swing
on branches,” realized the boy. “You let me
grow old here.”
“My trunk is gone, ” said the tree.
“You cannot climb – ”
“I am too tired to climb,” said the boy.
He was too tired even to hate her.
At least the tree was real.
“I am sorry,” sighed the tree.
“I wish that I could give you something….
but I have nothing left.
I am just an old stump.
I am sorry….”
You are not sorry, the boy thought to himself.
“I don’t need very much now,” said the boy.
“just a quiet place to sit and rest.
I am very tired.”
“Well,” said the tree, straightening
herself up as much as she could,
“well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting
Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.”
And he was too tired to fight her.
And the boy sat.
And the tree was happy.
And he is still sitting there,
under the apples that are not quite green
and not quite red
and he has not moved for a long time
and the tree is very
very
very
very
very
(the tree is not a stump)
very
(the tree was never a stump)
very
very
very
(the tree has grown her branches back)
very
very
(the tree is looking for other boys)
happy.
Tags: apples, shel silverstein, the giving tree, the surreal
ARRRGH CREEPY and wonderful and creepy
Trees and forests are just inherently spooky aren’t they?
I can’t decide if I love this or hate this, but whatever I feel, I’m feeling it strongly. So, good job.
Well JESUS now I have to go dunk my copy of The Giving Tree in some sort of holy water.
Burn it. Only the cleansing power of fire can save us now.
My (now grown-up) niece and I just had a conversation about the creepy boundary-dissolving in The Giving Tree. I can’t decide whether I should share this with her, or if that’s just my not-tree version of forcefeeding her apples. APPLES APPLES SO MANY APPLES.
I tweeted this to my niece the second I’d finished reading it. She turns 18 today; I feel this is something she needs to properly begin her adult life.
I just FB-tagged her with it. Queasy emotional transactions FTW!
[Here, beloved niece, have an apple. Have another apple. Eat the apples and LOVE ME.]
wait until we get to “the places you’ll go”
I would suggest you do Love You Forever next, but that story is so sad (and the inspiration behind it), that I just can’t.
Even though, sometimes, that story makes me creep out a bit. Motherly love is a powerful thing, dudes.
Velveteen Rabbit.
I never read The Velveteen Rabbit and I’m sure it’s magical and lovely, but from an outside perspective, that book (like The Giving Tree) arrives pre-creeped. Burning of sentient toys? “Becoming real” if you’re loved enough (with the attendant presumption that you aren’t real if you aren’t beloved)? SKIN HORSE?
You cannot corrupt Seuss for me any more than I have for myself, between writing a Seussian Lovecraft poem and writing a thumbnail review proposing that the Liam Neeson Taken franchise is largely ripped off from Seuss’s work, notably the brutal Hop on Pop.
The apple tree in my yard was destroyed by Hurricane Sandy last year. For the first time, I think I’m okay with that.
Part of the reason that I love this, of course, is that I’ve always deeply resented that horrid little boy and everyone who says Shel Silverstein’s tree is a reasonable kind of selflessness to aspire to. It’s a much better story when the creepiness is explicit.
(rubs autumn-bare twigs together in glee)
D-: x1000 is my reaction, but in the very best way possible.
Honestly, this is just about as creepy as the original. I hated that book so much that it became the only book my daughter was given that I then turned around and gave away again.
holy SHIT. and I’ve never read the Giving Tree.
This is so much better than the original, which I hate entirely and wholly.
You know, this just makes me feel much better about the whole Giving Tree situation.
Oooooh now do The Runaway Bunny!
Prominently featured in the film version of “Wit” with Emma Thompson, one of Roger Ebert’s “Movies That Hurt Too Much.” (That almost sounds like a joke, but it’s not.) You have been warned.
So “Runaway Bunny” definitely could use a funny reboot as far as I’m concerned.
I’ve never liked the book either, but because I saw the boy as a selfish little pig. New twist!
Can we talk about the subtext behind Shel Silverstein’s Ladies First?
Shel Silverstein’s work for kids is terribly creepy. I bet most of it could be given similar treatment and be just as good or better.
I loved his books of poems when I was young, but the author photo of him on the backs of the jackets (barefoot, bald, pirate grin) always filled me with dread. I could not go to sleep unless they were turned right side up.
Why was this not published on Halloween? I’m terrified. And more convinced than ever to never leave the city.
Oh my god this was perfect.
This is why the whole world needs to be paved, which I’ve been saying for YEARS
I am going to start a career giving motivational speeches to young people about how they don’t have to bother slogging through the Tommyknockers and can just read this instead to greater effect.
This is brilliant and horrifying.
Now I’m terrified. And I’ve never read the Giving Tree, and am now fairly sure I don’t want to.
nnnooooooooooooooo
You are an utterly fantastic horror writer, just amazing. This really gave me the shivers.
I’ve always hated the original text, this is much better.
When I first started reading this, the apple-stained mouth made me think of the “The Magician’s Nephew” when… Jadis?… eats the apples of immortality and it stains her mouth. (the kid brings some home to his ill mom to cure her) I was expecting a giving tree/narnia mash up and frankly I think this is much better.
This is already a children’s book by Shel Silverstein. This is plagiarism! Please remove this immediately.
I really, really hope this is a genuinely outraged comment and not a joke, because it would make me so happy.
oh my god
Overblown outrage! That’s when you know you’ve really hit it. Congratulations!
I like this tree so much better than the other one.
I like this tree so much better than the other one.
whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat
this is NOT OKAY. ALL KINDS OF NOT OKAY.
As if the original weren’t horrible enough. Yikes.
I can’t believe I’m the first person to bring up Caitlyn R Kiernan’s The Red Tree. Creepy trees, writers, lesbians, unreliable narrators — it’s like it was written for the Toast/this post.
So it’s a crystal meth tree? Game over, man.
Aside from the fact that this is AWESOME, I can’t be the first person to think that the tree is addiction.
(I’m too used to reading the original one as an emotionally abusive relationship. No stories about men and trees are ever just stories about men and trees.)
TREES TREES THEY ARE US
TREEEEEEEES
TREES TREES THEY ARE US
I think I may like this version better than the original!
Absolutely wonderful — bravo!
As a (very young) kid I loved the idea of a tree as a friend. A bit later I realized how sad and one sided the whole thing was. My mother told me she hated that book, but that I always wanted her to read it to me. I think Mallory’s version is much better. Far better outcome for the beautiful tree.
oh yeah! I am so happy to see that people have the same reaction to The Giving Tree that I have–that book is abusive–this version pretty much sums it up—I love it!
The physical form those ending lines took! I had chills~
Consider me a new fan! I literally sat for 2 hours and read ALL of your horrific stories. They’re the best. My favourite genre, made even creepier than I could hope for! What is this, my birthday?! XD