Upon the Old Oak Roots




It was a crisp morning. The birds were chirping and the trees swaying. And, the sky did not have a cloud insight. That morning, a young family went down to the little playground where they spent most of their Saturdays since baby Marigold was born. She was truly a heller constantly active and getting into mischief. Nonetheless, her parents were always there to chase her wherever she roamed.



Around noon, ominous, dark clouds came rolling in as fast as a cheetah after it’s prey. For once, Marigold was silently content playing in the sand box by the rusted swing set while her parents finally had time to themselves. They were genuinely the perfect couple, the ones perceived in sappy fairytales. The duo looked upon each with abundant love whilst holding each others hands in strong embrace...As they sat on the wooden bench, rain started to pour. They quickly let go of their gazes and ran to grab Marigold. As they both rushed towards the box, they saw that their little one was nowhere insight. Nervously, the father spun around searching the perimeter and saw her little pink jacket laying by the opening of the nearby woods. They both darted with panic over to the darkened forest in hopes of seeing their blonde beauty. Fearfully, they scanned every inch. Then, in a flash, he spotted her down by the hill, playing happily in a pile of mud.



As Marigolds father ran to her, he tripped over a patch of slippery wet leaves. The mother let out an arm, but her attempt to help was unsuccessful. He tumbled down the hill like a waterfall, hitting everything in his path. Finally, a tree stopped his plunge and his wife followed with terror in her eyes and anxiety in her heart. Little Marigold, too young to comprehend, waddled over to see her daddy. However, little did she realize that her father laid there upon the roots of an old oak tree...lifeless.Quickly, the mother called the paramedics. However, it was too late. His body was crumpled and distorted as was the mothers heart.

After that day at the park, the mother could never look upon Marigold the same way. Marigold possessed the same verdurous, meadow green eyes her father once had. The widow and child never returned to the little park on Saturday mornings or any other morning. The mother blamed the child for the loss of her love, and quickly turned to drinking her pain away. One glass at a time.


Marigold never understood as to why her mother hated her so; or, why her mother would beat her every night and enjoyed the muffled screams she would let out into her pillow as her mother struck her.

As time went by, the widows pain grew stronger. Marigold was eleven and knew better than to test her mother and just do as she was told. Marigold never made a noise unless allowed and followed her mother's drunken instructions. Until one night, she heard the crackle of the cheap glass bottle clank onto the coffee table. Marigold knew that it was that time of the night again. She laid there motionless ready to be battered around as she normally was.With each lash, she let out a little whimper and winced her eyes. By the time it was all over, her mother would be sprawled on her bed, passed out. Normally, Marigold would drag her mother to her own room; but, tonight, she laid there numbed with pain as tears slowly filled up to the brim of her eyes.
She could not take it any longer. She couldn't take the tragic truth of all of the demons her mother had leashed upon her with all the constant beatings and mental executions. The next night, as her mother laid on the couch igniting her next cigarette, she crept slowly towards the door with a tattered backpack upon her shoulders. As she opened the creaky door, her mother jolted her head back, ready to scream her profanity. Her mother saw the sack and knew instantly what she was planning to do. Her eyes turned from a drunken glaze to an enraged glare into Marigold’s soul. The mother dropped the bottle from her hand. It shattered into thousands of fragments. In response, Marigold dropped her belongings and darted out of the door. She ran to the only place her mother would never dare to step near...the little playground they visited so many years ago. Her mother chased her down, until she reached the old sandbox and when she had realized where she was,she dropped to her knees and tears streamed down her face. She looked up and saw Marigold dash into the woods. The mother quickly rose and tracked after her. She came to the opening of the woods and saw her daughter, lying face down upon the roots of the old oak tree, the exact way she saw her husband many years ago, contorted and bloody. She rushed down and scooped Marigold into her arms. She swayed back and forth upon her knees, in shock of what she had just lost.



She releases her child. And, in her delirium, she wanders home. Bloodied and dirty, She walked through the doorway of her empty home. Slowly, she drudges her way to her daughters room grabbing a half empty bottle of cheap liquor. Upon Marigold’s bed, a crinkled note lied, it read in child’s print:
“Dear mother,
Im sorry I wasn’t good enough. Forgive me. I know in your eyes I never added up to your standards. In my heart, I know I failed you...regardless, I love you.
Sincerely, Marigold”
Shakingly, she crumpled up the paper, took a gulp, and went to the wooden cabinet. A moment later, she pulled a loaded gun against her head. The trigger was pulled. Her body collapsed and landed onto the old oak floor.