Marilyn pedaled around the old oak tree on her brand-new tricycle. She’d ridden all day, carving a circle around the tree to mark her territory. Grandma said stop, but Marilyn didn’t listen. Round and round the tree she rode, shiny black tires butchering the grass beneath. The tree swayed its branches in warning but she wasn’t deterred. The tree swung harder, slapped her across the face with its leaves. She pedaled faster. Determined. Thunderous noise roared above. She soldiered on. Slaughtering. Rumbling grew louder as a shadow enveloped her. A giant branch smashed down upon her. The surviving grass cheered.
Author’s Note: Many years ago in my town, a freak wind storm caused a tree to fall on, and kill, a four year old girl who was riding her tricycle.