Sunday, 1 March 2015


by John Xero

Joe tugged his pocket knife open. It was short and blunt, but it would serve. He stabbed with quick vicious strikes, feeling Old Man Green crumble.

Chips of lichen-green bark pattered down.

He finished. Stepped back to admire his handiwork.


Old Man Green. Oldest tree in the forest. The oak that never lost its leaves, even through deepest winter. Ancient, massive, historic.

Now he and Mandy had their place in history.

He was still there next morning. Blunt knife deep in his heart, the great tree rearing over him, its bark marred only by time and weather.

Author bio: John Xero thinks you should never underestimate nature, it’s been around a lot longer than you have.

His own scrawlings on history’s wall can be found at and @xeroverse.

Historic is part of 101 Fiction issue 7.

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