Gemotions

The morning air tasted like possibility. Amelia practically bounced along the path, her boots crunching on the fallen leaves. She hadn't been back to her childhood home in years. The memory of the little oak she'd planted, a sapling then, a hopeful promise, was still vivid. Reaching the familiar garden gate, she grinned, ready to witness the towering sentinel she'd imagined.

Her smile faltered. Where the tree should have stood, bathed in sunlight, was a gaping emptiness. A fresh, raw stump was all that remained, a brutal wound against the familiar landscape. A sudden surge of energy shot through her, a current. She took a deep breath, and let it out as a triumphant whoop, and spun around, surveying the scene with a newly sharpened vision. The world looked brighter.