Kyra Tales Season 1 Revamped

The Mocking Tree

Joseph, known throughout the town as Sweet Joseph, was a perpetual wellspring of joy, never displaying a trace of sadness, and seemingly untouched by the burdens of life. His readiness to assist anyone in need was legendary, earning him the admiration of the townspeople. Yet, amidst the laughter and camaraderie, there were days when Joseph grappled with the immense weight of the responsibilities thrust upon him.

The townspeople had recognized Joseph's manifold talents and the air of enigma that surrounded him. It was to him they turned when faced with daunting tasks. As he balanced the town's needs on his shoulders, the relentless pressure began to wear on him. Seeking a brief respite, he found solace beneath the shade of a grand oak tree that stood on a tranquil hillside.

"Sweet oak tree beside me, tell me, what am I doing wrong?" Joseph whispered to the lonely tree, his voice barely more than a murmur. "Everyone keeps asking me for help," he continued, "everything, the tree spoke back."

In that moment, Joseph's doubts began to swirl in his mind, and he wondered if this conversation was a figment of his imagination. "Nobody likes you, they just need you for things they cannot do themselves," the tree declared with a dispassionate tone.

As the tree continued, a hint of malevolence crept into its voice. "Look at you! So scrawny and thin," it snickered. "Why sit here and complain to me about your pathetic life?"

Joseph felt a pang of pain at the tree's cruel words. "Stop it, you're hurting my feelings," he implored.

The tree responded with mockery, repeating his words in a cruel, taunting tone. "Stop it, you're hurting my feelings," it echoed, laughter filling the air.

The tree's words cut deep, as it proclaimed that the townspeople merely used Joseph for their own ends. "The people of the town use me for paper," it scoffed. "And you're here complaining to me about stress!"

Joseph, overwhelmed by the tree's relentless taunting, finally erupted. "Stop it, you mocking tree!" he yelled, his face reddened with embarrassment.

The tree, undeterred, continued to mock him. "A mocking tree," it declared, pausing for effect, "That's the stupidest name I've ever heard." It sneered, "Weak and dumb."

Joseph, stung by the tree's words, resolved to prove its assessment wrong. "I'll show you I'm not weak!" he shouted as he stomped away, leaving the tree chuckling at his departure.

Days turned into weeks, and Joseph's absence puzzled the tree, which couldn't help but feel a smug sense of vindication. "Ha! I told you, weak!" it bragged, believing it had finally silenced Joseph.

But then, the tree heard movement. Joseph had returned, and the tree couldn't hide its surprise. "Oh, why, if it isn't the weakling," the tree chuckled. "Come back for more?"

Joseph had not returned to engage in verbal sparring. Instead, he drew a hatchet from his side, causing the tree to shiver in fear. With a mighty swing, Joseph brought the hatchet down upon the tree with such force that the ground rumbled beneath them. "Ow, stop that!" the tree cried out, its voice filled with distress. "I've been here for two decades!"

Joseph paid no heed to the tree's pleas and continued his relentless assault, chopping the tree again and again, determined to prove his strength.

And so, the mocking tree fell, its voice silenced forever. Today, it resides in Joseph's cottage living room, serving as a silent table, its days of mockery long gone, replaced by the enduring lesson of strength and resilience.