Free Arjun by Fionn Jameson Page B

Evelyn Kent.” I would have extended a hand out, but there really wasn’t anyone for me to shake hands with.
    Evelyn. That is a most beautiful name. It begins with “Eve” and ends with “Lyn.” If your mother named you, she must be a very wise woman.
    My mother? Wise? Well, she did have her merits, but being particularly clever wasn’t high on her list of desirable traits. “Actually, it wasn’t my mother who named me. My father was the one who wanted me named after my grandmother.”
    Then your father is a very wise man. hearing voices in my head.
    Mr. I Save Trees from Devastation didn’t know how right he was.
    “Yeah. Dad was a good guy.” I refused to think too long about the car accident seven years ago. Come to think of it, it was around that time when Mother started going a little kooky. “What’s your name?”
    My question hung in the air, as crystalline and sharp as the icicles hanging from the fir tree I’d almost cut down.
    My name?
    “Yes. Your name. You do have a name, don’t you?”
    Silence was my only answer, and I tried again. Never say die until one was actually dead, that was my motto, and it had never served me wrong. Not yet, at least.
    “Hello? Are you still there?”
    Arjun. They call me Arjun.
    “They? Who’re they?”
    Things were starting to get a little interesting.
    But to us, names are not so important. We do not talk like you humans do; there is no need for us to converse with words. I suppose it’s best to say we communicate through feelings…ideas….
    “Uh-huh.” As much as I enjoyed talking to a tree, it was really time to go back. I was shivering and didn’t want my ass amputated due to frostbite. “Look, it’s been great talking to you, but let’s face it, you’re a tree, and I’m not all that keen on sharing a deep and meaningful conversation with one. Some people, yeah, they do that all the time, but I’m not them, so I’m afraid this is where we exchange our farewells.”
    His tone took on a rather offended note.
    I am not a tree. I am not an unmoving object. I move as easily as you move.
    I dusted off the bottom of my pants. His voice carried in the wind, encircling me, before whispering away.
    “Oh, really? Well, if you’re not a tree, then what the heck are you? A bird?”
    Now you mock me.
    Clearly, I was losing my mind. “No, I’m not making fun of you. You tell me you’re not a tree, but I’m pretty much convinced that you’re just a part of the imagination I never knew I had until I attacked a Christmas tree. So, if you will excuse me, I do have to get back home and take a dip in some hot water so that my butt will defrost.”
    Wait. If I show you…will you stay?
    He sounded almost hopeful; meanwhile, I was completely incredulous. “What?”
    Just as I said. I realize that a talking voice could perhaps be more than a little disconcerting. That is why you are leaving, is that not so?
    “Actually, no, the reason I’m lea—”
    Thwhge of my en I will appear for you.
    And despite it all, I was curious. If someone, anyone, showed up, at least it would point to the rather evident fact that I wasn’t just hearing voices in my head.
    “Well…I suppose, but I do have to leave. It’s really cold out, and that’s not even mentioning that it’s past eigh—”
    Before I could finish my sentence, a flash of white and the glint of a green so vivid appeared and reminded me of a pasture fresh after a spring shower. Pulling himself from behind the tree, as if he’d been standing there all along…but his skin had gone transparent right before he stepped free from the foliage that littered the top of his blond hair like it had snowed Christmas tree needles. As if he was a part of the tree…but that wasn’t what made my breath catch short, wasn’t what made my jaw drop almost all the way to the core of the Earth.
    “Oh…Lord,” I breathed out, a hot flush running across my face.

Or maybe the more correct term was face to chest.
    To give