A red cloud swept across Max's mind, it was a focus driven by rage, rather then the actual blood mist which hung in the air followig his most recent series of savage blows. He had broken through the outer layer of bone now and saw that in the centre was a brown juicy substance, the marrow of the tree.
Despite his rage and tunnel vision, Max had been aware of one other fact while he waged his war on the tree. With each strike, his wife, Audrey's lifeless form was lowered closer and closer to the ground. The last desperate move by the tree, he was certian. For now he had reached the core, there could really only be one outcome, and so why not try to scare him away but bringing him face to face with the only person he had left in his life whom he loved and who loved in in return.
"You'll have to try harder than that." He shouted as he dropped his axe to the floor where it landed in the pool of blood that was now gathered. The grass completed disappeared beneath its crimson surface.
With his final words spoken Max proceeded to scoop handfuls of juciy marrow from the trees central channel, with hands hooked into claws. His eyes were wide, and he was screaming, a primal animalistic sound. It was bellows partly in triumph, and partly to block out the high pitched screaming sound that the tree planted inside his brain. By the time Audrey's feet swung ito her husbands face his ears were bleeding along with his nose, his hair had become pure white and his face grey. Deep within his body a tumour had sprouted and grew larger and hungier for his flesh wtih every handful of marrow he scooped.
By the time he was finished, the tree hollowed out until he could reach inside and touch the bone on the other side and come back with a clean hand, Audrey and Max were face to face. Well almost, the only thing between them was the large Woodsman 2000 which protruded from the centre of Audrey's face, having entered at the top of her skull, only to get wedged stuck half way down. One of her eyes stared almost accusingly at her husband, while the other gazed at the floor, hanging from its socket and bouncing around on the optic nerve as if it were on a spring.
With an almighy crack the tree began to shift, and as it toppled to the floor, the ground split open as if to catch it. The earth yawned and swallowed the falling tree whole. Flames erupted into the air as the dead tree caught fired and became nothing but ash in a matter of seconds.
When it was over Max stood alone in his garden. His body frail and covered in blood, his wifes still form lay at his feet, half submerged in the pool of blood that had gathered around them. He stared down at her, collapsing himself soon thereafter, his body tired, energy spent. He bent down and kissed both halves of his wifes face before rising and making his way back to the house. He turned around only once, and was just in time to see his wifes head sink below the surface of the bloody pool.
The following day Max woke feeling as younger than ever, there were no aches and pains, beside that which arouse within him when he rolled over and saw the other side of the bed empty and cold. He began building the summer house that afternoon, down at the bottom of the garden where that large oak tree had once stood. He had promised his wife that they would spend the rest of their days there. That was exacrtly what he did. It took three weeks for him to finish the the summer house, and on that first evening, he sat in his chair on the porch, closed his eyes and promptly died.