There was an old tall tree which stood in the middle of a meadow a short distance from Wraithmoor. It has stood there for many, many years. It was a huge oak. According to one legend, the vampire Dracula himself used to rest on it.
But one day, the tree began to wither. No one knew why. And since no one could save the tree, the mayor of Wraithmoor decided to have the tree cut down so that the drying branches wouldn’t accidentally fall on someone.
Chupchip and Toothy Boo were sad about it. They liked to play under the tree.
“We won’t let it happen, Chupchip,” said Toothy Boo. “We must save the tree.”
“But how?”
“I don’t know. But we’ve got a month before they chop it down. That would be such a shame. After all, we need trees, every toothy ghost knows that.”
And so the two of them made their way to the tree.
“It looks dry,” Chupchip stated. “Its branches are as dry and twisted as our great-grandmother’s hands.”
“Great-grandma puts ointment on them, maybe if we put something on the tree it will get better,” suggested Toothy Boo.
“I’d start by watering it like Mom does with the flowers.”
And so Chupchip brought buckets of water. Toothy Boo went to visit her great-grandmother. Great-grandmother used to be a tree fairy and agreed to give her the special ointment that tree fairies use. Toothy Boo thanked her, took the ointment and returned to the tree.
Chupchip kept watering the tree. Toothy Boo put the ointment on it.
“Nothing miraculous is happening,” Chupchip muttered.
“Nothing happens right away,” said Toothy Boo. “This is many people’s problem. They think that once they take the medicine, everything will be all right. It’s not like that, everything takes time. Even a tree needs time to heal.”
“Well, I guess the tree doesn’t know that it doesn’t have much time,” grinned Chuchip, turning to the tree and shouting close to the bark, “Hey, tree! You’ve got a month to get better or they’ll come chop you down! So hurry up!”
“Chupchip! You’re acting like an idiot,” Toothy Boo rolled her eyes.
So every day the two of them went to water the tree. And then it happened. The tree seemed to heal with the ointment, or maybe it heard what Chupchip said to him. When Chupchip and Toothy Boo came one morning, the tree was covered in leaves and green as in spring.
“Wow, so beautiful,” Chupchip rejoiced.
“Thank you, toothy ghosts,” the tree rustled among the leaves.
Chupchip and Toothy Boo were speechless. They had never heard a tree speak before.
“Are you a m-m-magic tree?” Chupchip stammered when he finally came to his senses.
“Yes, I am a magic tree. Every tree is magic. And it doesn’t even have to talk,” replied the tree.
“I don’t understand. If it doesn’t talk, it’s a perfectly ordinary tree,” said Chupchip.
“If it weren’t for us trees, you toothy ghosts wouldn’t have anything to breathe. One tree like me makes enough oxygen every day to give three people all day to breathe.”
“Oxygen? Like in the air? How do you do that?” Toothy Boo asked.
“That’s what my green leaves are for. I use them to take the gas you and the animals breathe out of the air, it’s called carbon dioxide. And I also need sunlight. That’s how I make the nutrients that allow me to grow. And the rest, the oxygen you need to breathe, I release back into the air through the leaves. This is called photosynthesis.”
“Wow, so we saved a tree and we have something to breathe because of it,” Chupchip rejoiced.
“Not only that,” reminded the magic tree. “By evaporating the water I pull in with my roots, I’m cooling my surroundings. That’s why you’re so comfortable in my shade in the summer.”
Toothy Boo and Chupchip came to check on the tree the next day as well. And they certainly weren’t the only ones. All the ghosts from all over the Wraithmoor gathered at the tree. They couldn’t believe how green the tree had become. The tree may have never spoken since, but that was enough to let everyone know how magical trees really are. Even if they look ordinary at first glance. But sometimes they need their tree fairies to look after them with love. Or a couple of toothy ghosts. Because every tree counts, and all the care we give to them will return to us a hundredfold.