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Sarah Spaulding is a senior at St. Norbert College studying
English. She grew up in Cleveland, Wisconsin, with five siblings, and is
an avid Brewers fan. Sarah enjoys reading Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie
Plum novels, listening to country music, and spending time on the lake,
where she also collects beach glass. Sarah’s fairy tale, “The Boy in the
Trees,” draws on concepts found in many classic folk and fairy tales,
such as anthropomorphic animals. It is a story of love and family and
coming to the realization of the importance of the two.
Carolyn Silverberg
The Boy in the Trees
Sarah Spaulding
No one could persuade him to come down from the trees.
When he was just 10 years old, Joey climbed a tall tree in his
backyard and finished reading a book in less than an hour. From
that day on, he never stopped reading in the trees. At first his
parents begged him to come down. Then they cried. Eventually,
they got used to it. It was hard for them to tell people about their
son, for they were a little embarrassed. After some time, though,
people just came to accept the fact that Joey would never come
down from the trees.
Joey loved to read all different kinds of books. He read
adventure stories. He read novels based on historical events. He
liked to read love stories. He especially loved to read fantasy
books.
It’s not that Joey didn’t love his parents. He loved them,
but they were boring. Joey had the freedom that he had never had
before in the trees. In the air, he was free from chores and church
on Sundays. He no longer had to go to school. He learned a lot
more by reading books, anyway.
One day, when Joey was 12 years old, an owl perched
himself on the branch that Joey was sitting on and started talking
to him.
“Hey kid, what are you doing up here? Surely this is not
your home.”
“I know,” replied Joey. His eyes were still glued to the
page.
“Well, I would suggest that you leave,” said the owl. “I
would really like to hang from this branch and get some sleep.”
Joey continued to read.
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“Hey, what are you reading anyway?” asked the owl.
But Joey was terribly shy and not very good at
communicating. He lifted the book up for the owl to see. Then
he climbed higher up the tree, because he did not feel like making
friends with the owl.
A few hours later, Joey saw that a worm was inching
toward him. He pretended not to notice him, but the worm said
hello.
“Hello there!” exclaimed the worm. “My name is Chad.
What is your name?”
Joey was starting to get irritated. “It’s Joey,” he said.
“What a gorgeous day it is, don’t ya think?” asked the
worm.
But again, Joey found it incredibly hard to talk to the
worm.
Joey read about wonderful friendships in his books, but
the truth is, he had never really made friends before. He wasn’t
sure how to make friends now. He was too busy reading to ever
try.
A lovely nightingale flew next to Joey. Its wings startled
Joey, and he looked up from his book to find the nightingale
directly facing him.
“Hello,” mumbled Joey. He really just wanted to finish his
story.
“Hello,” said the nightingale. “Have you seen my baby?
I am afraid I have lost her; she is nowhere to be found. Oh, my
baby!”
At that moment, Joey felt a weird feeling in his stomach.
He hesitantly put the book down.
“No, I haven’t,” he answered her.
The nightingale started to cry. Joey looked at her in awe.
Suddenly he thought, I wonder if this is how sad my parents are. He
hadn’t given much thought to his parents before, but something
about the nightingale reminded Joey of his mother.
“Such a small child,” continued the nightingale. “So much
life ahead of her, so much beauty in this world—I must find her
so that I know that all of this beauty can still be hers too!”
“Well, I guess I can help you look for her,” said Joey. He
was dying to know how his story ended, but he did feel so very
sorry for the bird.
The nightingale was overjoyed that Joey was willing to
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help. Joey jumped down from the tree. His legs were wobbly, and
his feet sank into the soft, green grass. Wow, thought Joey. The
earth is so soft.
Joey and the nightingale started off to find the baby
nightingale. Joey could not help but notice the smell of the
flowers in full bloom. The world is so much more colorful down
here! Everything seemed to jump out at him, and while he was
determined to help the nightingale and get back to his reading, he
started to really admire what he was seeing around him. Kids his
own age were playing tag and hopscotch and jumping rope. Joey
listened to them laugh and joke with one another. He suddenly
felt more lonely than ever. The children I read about in books are
great, but they are not real, thought Joey to himself. Then he realized
that he would not have had the opportunity to see so much
beauty if he had never offered to help the nightingale.
The two continued to search for the baby. The mother
nightingale was frantic. Joey was still in awe. He kind of missed
playing outside. He looked at his drab clothing and realized he
hadn’t had a bath in forever. That thought made him think about
his house, which in turn made him think about a hot shower and
a warm bed. Then, Joey thought about his parents.
“One second, Mrs. Nightingale. There is somewhere we
need to go,” said Joey.
The nightingale was very concerned about her baby, but
she was so grateful to Joey for helping her that she dared not
argue or ask questions.
A few minutes later, and Joey was knocking on his
parent’s door. The look on his parent’s face when they saw him
was unbelievable. They were so happy to see him and gave him
big hugs and kisses. Amidst all the crying and hugging, the
nightingale heard a very faint chirping noise.
“Shhhhh!” she said. “I think I hear my baby!”
And what do you know, coming from the attic was the
nightingale’s baby flapping its wings and making a great fuss. She
had gotten in through an open window and could not get herself
out.
The nightingale thanked Joey over and over again. Joey
sent them out the door and said goodbye to them.
Joey had not been home in so long. Everything was
exactly how he had left it.
“What made you come home, son?” asked his mother.
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Joey explained how the nightingale needed his help. Then
he explained all of the things he saw while searching for the
nightingale’s baby.
“I spent so much time reading books that I forgot all
about all the people on earth right now. I miss them, and I missed
being a kid. I missed life! I read so many great stories, but the
greatest story of all is the one that we write our own ending to.”
From that day on, Joey decided that he was going to
spend more time with his family, and less time reading. He also
started to write his own stories, but not from the treetops. He
wrote stories inspired by those he surrounded himself by every
day, so that they were always a part of him.