Welcome to Labrys, your student-run art and literature collective of Smith College.

It started with a sprout. At first I thought it was merely interesting, just something new that was happening to me. I didn’t tell anyone about it for fear they might cut it down before it even got going. It was so small, so delicate. I don’t know how it ended up growing out of my navel, but I hadn’t gotten to choose where I grew up either, so I figured it didn’t need to be punished for its location. At first it was just a few leaves, but soon enough its stem grew long and tough. I looked it up in one of the giant encyclopedias in the library and, based on the shape of its leaves, decided it must be a yew tree.

I spent hours lying on my fire escape in the sunlight so that it could grow. For a while it was small and flexible enough that I could get a shirt on over it, but soon I became worried that I would break it. I stopped going to work. I was terrified that if anyone knew they would take my tree away from me. Soon my tree was over a foot tall and I walked around with it sticking out of my body like a bizarre antenna. I stopped leaving the house altogether and began getting everything delivered to my apartment.

It took a few months for me to realize I was losing weight. My collarbones and spine stuck out through my skin in a way that was almost grotesque. I tried to eat more, but I couldn’t keep up with the demands of a young tree. Soon enough I was too weak to even get out of bed. Now I am hardly more than a pile of fertilizer. My tree is already a young sapling. I only hope that after I am gone it can keep going. I hope it eats the world.