Ivy and the Happening (Short Story)
Originally published April 6, 2025
Hi! Happy April! So, for this month, simultaneously my favorite and least favorite one, I had wanted to share my most favorite story I’ve ever written. It’s incomplete, and I’d been hiding it away, but I really wanted to put it out there, because it’s one of the couple of stories I feel genuinely and truly confident in. It’s my piece de resistance. So, I go to find it in my drive, and it’s nowhere to be seen. I can’t find it anywhere. It’s not in my trash, it’s not in my docs, it’s not in any messages because I was so proud of it I was too scared to send it to anyone. It’s completely and utterly gone, and I couldn’t be more upset about it. I don’t know what happened to it. I’m utterly heartbroken, truly. I think there’s some other little things missing from my drive, but this piece was the one that mattered most to me. It was called The Ring, and I hope it comes back to me. So for now, here’s a random little tale I wrote about a little tree named Ivy, way back from my creative writing class that we seem to talk so much about here. It’s not the best, and it’s a little incomplete, but it’s a cutie. Enjoy 🙂
If a tree falls in a forest, and no one is around to hear it, does it really make a sound? Does it even fall? If a tree falls, who hears it? If a tree moves and talks and sings, who is there to witness it?
Well, besides the other trees of course.
Deep in all the forests around all the worlds, behind the babbling brooks and sleeping trolls, past the thieving squirrels and nosy fairies, there lie small cloves of tall trees, bursting with whimsy and kindness. Trees of which followed strict rules, as all woodland creatures must do. They must never travel farther than the forest. They must live in love and harmony. They must smile and cheer whenever possible And they must never talk to humans. These rules were easy to follow, and most trees did so with ease without a second thought.
Every tree in each clove around the worlds lived its own little life. For Ivy, it was a life of happening. Ivy deemed happening to be the way everytree should live their life. It was going on adventures, exploring undiscovered places, and finding what there is to love about life. That is the happening. No one else understood it, or her.
The trees move as they please in their little cloves, working and living like bees in a hive: everytree has a role. Mr. and Mrs. Mertle ran the bakery, Willow ran the church ensemble, and Ivy’s father so happened to be the mayor of their clove. But Ivy felt her role was to feel sorry for her fellow trees. She pitied the way none of them wanted to see the world, to leave the clove. Even Ivy knew better than to break the Woodland Treaty and leave the forest, but still, she was allowed to dream of it, wasn’t she? She was, at least, allowed to leave the clove and explore the forest, wasn’t she? So why wouldn’t the other trees do the same she wondered? She was almost concerned for them. She thought, who wouldn’t want to see the forest in all its diverse and beautiful glory? Why didn’t they want to live the happening?
Ivy had met almost all the forest’s friends, from the pesky squirrels trying to peck at her new earrings, to the fairies and pixies who always knew the latest drama in their cloves. She loved happening, and while it made her sad the other trees didn’t feel the same way, she was also happy she got it all to herself. No one to bother her or take away her special things, and no humans to ruin everything either.
Until Johnnie.
Johnnie was a lone wanderer- well, he wasn’t until he got lost. But getting lost wasn’t anything new to Johnnie. He was the least skilled of his hiking group. He was always falling behind and losing them, whether it was because he couldn’t keep up or because he saw a something maybe nearby. But this time was different. Johnnie was traveling where he’d never gone before. He was in a new forest, one his group didn’t walk through.
This forest was used to this. The magic covering it wasn’t as strong as others, and so sometimes, a human would peek through the barrier. The citizens of this forest, though, had a plan for this. The fairies hid in their tiny homes. The pixies flew up to the top of the barrier in their hiding spots. The animals frolicked and played as though they couldn’t speak to one another. And the trees stood still. Didn’t talk or move. They played the part of the typical human tree. Even Ivy knew this. But as she watched this new human she’d never seen before. Usually, the hikers they see are following their morning trails or training for bigger hikes. However, this one was wandering. He was curious, frolicking like the fairies do when the forest is empty. This one was new. She liked this one. She saw the happening in him.
So, Ivy said Hello.
With love, Willianny
