About: Crying from the Perch Tree

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About: Crying from the Perch Tree Sponge Permalink

An Entity of Type : owl:Thing, within Data Space : 134.155.108.49:8890 associated with source dataset(s)

There used to be a perch tree outside my house. I think it's still there. But my dad chopped it down years ago. Or did he? When I wake up in the cold winter mornings, I hear the soft hymn of the peach doves that used to live in the perch. The perch was beautiful and I had pretty much grown from it, and I don't remember having a life before the perch tree had been planted and had grown. Maybe I didn't have a life before the perch tree. My grandma raised me near the perch tree. My grandpa died under the perch tree. I miss him. I miss the perch tree. "Papa!" I scream, a smirk across my face.

Attributes	Values
rdfs:label	Crying from the Perch Tree
rdfs:comment	There used to be a perch tree outside my house. I think it's still there. But my dad chopped it down years ago. Or did he? When I wake up in the cold winter mornings, I hear the soft hymn of the peach doves that used to live in the perch. The perch was beautiful and I had pretty much grown from it, and I don't remember having a life before the perch tree had been planted and had grown. Maybe I didn't have a life before the perch tree. My grandma raised me near the perch tree. My grandpa died under the perch tree. I miss him. I miss the perch tree. "Papa!" I scream, a smirk across my face.
dcterms:subject	Dismemberment Items/Objects Items/Objects Mental Illness Dismemberment Mental Illness
dbkwik:creepy-past...iPageUsesTemplate	dbkwik:resource/dqjFnLKDZyqQGuCMWzEx2w==
dbkwik:creepypasta...iPageUsesTemplate	dbkwik:resource/gRoy-TU7-qI7cxAVaUoTSQ==
abstract	There used to be a perch tree outside my house. I think it's still there. But my dad chopped it down years ago. Or did he? When I wake up in the cold winter mornings, I hear the soft hymn of the peach doves that used to live in the perch. The perch was beautiful and I had pretty much grown from it, and I don't remember having a life before the perch tree had been planted and had grown. Maybe I didn't have a life before the perch tree. My grandma raised me near the perch tree. My grandpa died under the perch tree. I miss him. I miss the perch tree. Grandpa was no good anyway. He didn't work for the family. It's better that that no good old man died. I'm still feeding off his grainy old corpse. What a horse. Maybe papa should die too, he cut down the perch tree. Where's my axe? Oh, that's right... I left it in grandma's head. She's still hanging from her intestines from a branch on the perch tree where she used to feed me meals. Oh well, she always took too long in the bathroom anyway. "Papa!" I scream, a smirk across my face. Papa runs up the stairs and opens the door. "What's wrong sweetie?" Papa asks. "Why'd you cut down the perch tree papa?" I ask. Papa looks at me. "Because dear girl, it was bad. It was bad luck." "But papa," my hands were red now, "you're not supposed to hurt things important to others, right papa?" My hysterical laughter was loud. Papa's folded body didn't answer me. I'll find out why later.

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