Not All Is What It Seems

The boy stood there, still as death itself. His brown curls swept over his forehead and his dark eyes shone in the dimly lit cavern. His lips curved up into a smile at the scene that lay before him.

In front of him lay something so magical, so breathtaking, so unbelievable, many deny its very existence.

No man, no woman, no child had ever survived the journey to it. No one had ever survived to live the tale. Only legends, whispers of the ancients had supported its existence. Until now, it was no longer a mere legend to be told by storytellers

The tree of life.

The boy stood there, his eyes wide in awe at the magnificent sight before him.

The multicolored leaves caressed the soft blue clouds, the ancient structure towering over the mountains, vines of rainbow leaves hung down, just barely stroking the ground.

The silver bark glowed in the dim cavern, the tree being the only source of light in the pitch blackness.

The boy came closer, brushing his hand against the soft, feather-like vines. He took another step, his hand touched the cool, velvety, silver bark and his eyes closed in pleasure at the steady flow of energy flowing into him.

Suddenly the tree erupted. Silver roots burst through the ground and encased him, trapping him in its silvery essence. His screams echoed through the large cavern, the roots pulling him closer and closer.

The roots pulled the boy closer and closer, until he was pressed against the tree, his screams and shouts softening until he could no longer breathe.

Finally the boy melted into the silver bark, the silence returning once again. Just another victim of the tree's cruel illusions.

Not all is what it seems.