Signed, Sealed and Delivered

I look around me. I watch the snow drift to the earth. I watched it come from the heavens and now it has arrived. It swirls around my trunk and lifts for a moment. It hovers as if held by an invisible hand before drifting down once more.

The sun lowers on the horizon. I see the red touch the tips of the mountains, staining the snow for one moment. A moment ago the world was whiter than snow, but the stain marches down the mountain, invading the homes of the villagers, creeping into the burrows of the animals, sinking down though the layers of glacial ice until it finds the leaves I shed so long ago. It burrows in, making a home among the leaves of yesterday. It makes a home where no one will find it, among the rotting soil.

But the soil will not always be rotting.

A shout echoes through the forest and I look around. I gaze into the branches of my brothers to see who it is.

A man races through the snow. Each step is a struggle as his feet sink beneath the surface. He pulls them out repeatedly, struggling against time, against the impending stain. It has almost reached him now. The light shining around him fades into red, bringing news of the coming night.

But he pushes on.

I watch him go and imagine his progress.

He makes his way to the village. He reaches into his bag. He pulls out a letter. At each house he stops and deposits a letter. He puts it into the hands of the inhabitants, calling out the children, the couples, the parents. He gives each one a letter, searching the entire village to ensure that everyone has received their mail. And then he leaves.

The inhabitants look at each other for a moment before opening their letters. They gaze at the contents and look up to see that the stain has reached them. There was nothing they could do. The stain came without their permission and settled in their hearts. It descended upon them without warning and made a home.

But the letters speak hope.

It is a message. A message from a stranger. A way to be rid of the stain.

“Forget your old ways,” the letter says. “Forget and follow a new way of life. Set aside the stain of your fathers. I will free you from your past.”

Some of the villagers look at the letter in confusion and then disgust. “Who would send us such nonsense?” they say. “Who would dare to presume they could remove this stain? This stain is deeper than blood and more lasting than the earth. This stain has come into our hearts and nothing can remove it.”

They reject the letters. They throw them away. They bury them. They let them drift in the wind until they land at the foot of my trunk. I look down and whisper. I whisper to the animals and they come. They gather around and read the words. They look up to the sky and remember. They remember a day when there was no stain and they know it is the truth. They know the letter brings truth and they scurry back to their homes where they prepare for the removal of the stain. They remove it from their homes. They remove it from their hearts. They go about their business knowing this is not the end, knowing one day the sky will shatter and the stain will be gone. They will be transplanted to a new earth with peace forevermore.

I see those who rejected the letters. They walk through the forest and gaze at the sky. They watch the red covering the clouds. They watch the red creeping down my trunk.

“Look at that,” they say.

Look at what?

They look but they do not see. It was delivered to their door, but they gave it up. They had a chance. They were given a chance, and they refused it. They walked away and never looked back. And one day the stain will be gone.


Other villagers look up with joy as they read the letters again. They have memorized the words, but they read them repeatedly. They look out at the stain and watch it cover the land, but they know this is not the end. They know something greater is coming. They know something greater is already here. They look up to the sky and laugh. “You have no power over us,” they say. “You come like a thief, but you cannot take this away.” And they fold their letters and place them in their shirts. They hold the letters close to their hearts and go about their days.