The Woods Behind My House Keep Getting Closer I should…
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The Woods Behind My House Keep Getting Closer
I should never have moved to the Midwest.
Looking back, I don’t even know why I did. When I first came to my parents to express my desire to leave Rhode Island behind, they tried to change my mind. My dad told me how foolish it would be to leave such a good job behind, and my mom reminded me how much family I had in the area, and how much they would miss me. After they realized that they couldn’t talk me out of moving, they changed tactics and tried to influence where I would go.
“Be sure to go somewhere scenic, so people will remember to visit you.” My dad declared
“I don’t want you going to any big cities, they’re dangerous.” My concerned mom said
But when I told them I was moving to Iowa, they both stared in silence for a moment.
My dad spoke first “you’ll die of boredom; there’s nothing there but fields.”
Agreeing my mom followed up with “Really Eric, Iowa is a dead-end state, couldn’t you pick somewhere more interesting?”
But I told them I had made up my mind, I had received a job offer from an Iowa aerospace company that paid nearly double what the mechanical engineering job I’d worked since college paid. And since housing in the Midwest was far cheaper, in Iowa I would actually be able to afford a house, whereas in Rhode Island I was doomed to an apartment forever.
Seeing that they couldn’t change my mind, my parents reluctantly came to peace with my decision. Only now do I wish I had listened to their pleas. Only now when its too late does inner city New York or San Francisco sound far safer than Iowa.
Nearly a year after I first broke the news to my parents I found myself settling into my new home in Iowa. Adding my new salary with what I already had in savings gave me enough confidence to purchase a house. Since many people my age have given altogether on the dream of owning a house, I felt a deep sense of pride from the moment the realtor handed me the keys. My house is a new build, in a brand-new development on the growing outskirts of my city. In fact, the neighborhood is so new that only two houses have been built so far. Mine and my neighbor’s four lots down the way.
The roads are brand new, without any cracks or faded lines in the asphalt. The sidewalks are fresh cement without so much as a weed growing in the crack. The area is pristine, as new as could be. Six minutes down the road was an up-and-coming shopping center that was home to a Kwik Star, a Taco Bell, and a Wal-Mart. The area felt like an oasis in the desert, as it was surrounded by the fields of farmers who had refused to sell to the developers.
For me, a city boy who had never spent much time in the country, the under-construction neighborhood was like a base on the moon. The vast openness of the surrounding fields made me uneasy if I thought about it too much, it felt like there was nowhere to hide. It felt like if I were to go beyond these manmade boundaries I would stand completely exposed.
My house was nice, far nicer than I ever thought I would have. It was a modern farmhouse style, with a black roof and a pure white exterior. The back side opened with several floor to ceiling windows that looked out over the half acre backyard and beyond it to the mile or two of bare fields. In the distance a small patch of woods separated the horizon from the sky. As beautiful as the view was, an eerie feeling always crept over me whenever I stared out those windows for too long.
A few months in I noticed a change. It was a Saturday morning, I sat at my dining room table, wrapped in my favorite bathrobe, sitting a fresh cup of coffee. Before me was the wide-open view that I was slowly getting used to, only something was different. I happened to notice it out of the corner of my eye as I read a book. Setting the book down in confusion I looked again. It was the woods at the very back of the view. It was bigger. Not taller, but wider. It looked like the small patch of untouched trees had nearly doubled in size.
I frowned and muttered to myself
“Has that always been like that?”
I got up and walked up to the glass, straining my eyes for a better look. My eyes weren’t wrong; the forest was bigger than I remembered. I stood there for a moment, quietly staring into the void. Had I really misremembered the view out the window? Had I really misremembered the view? Maybe the lighting was different. Maybe I was seeing the tree line from a slightly different angle. After all I hadn’t spent much time in the last few months looking out the window since the view made me uncomfortable. I must have remembered wrong; forests don’t grow overnight. After I convinced myself of this, I turned away from the window and got on with the rest of my day.
I spent the day reading, cleaning and playing video games. I went the whole day without thinking about how I misremembered the view behind my house, nor did I look out the windows except in passing. The day went fast, and before I knew it, I was in the kitchen preparing a slightly late dinner. As I dropped Kraft mac and cheese into a pot of boiling water, I glanced out the window. The sun was setting and in the dying light and I could have sworn that the forest was covering even more of the horizon. I opened the sliding glass door and walked out to the edge of my deck, as I stared into the distance. It must be the lighting. The sunset must have been casting strange light across the forest, making it look different. Making it look bigger. Still trying to rationalize it in my mind I went back to tending to my mac and cheese.
That night I had a terrible dream. In the dream I was trapped in a thick, dark forest. Every direction I looked was unfamiliar to me. The woods felt suffocating, as though the forest itself was pressing against my lungs. And then all at once from nowhere and everywhere a mocking laughter shook the ground, as a dark mist consumed me in shadow.
The next morning I woke from restless sleep, stumbled from my room and into the living room, in shock I stood in front of the wall of windows, as I saw that the entire horizon was now nothing but forest. I rubbed my eyes and looked again, but it was no different. Two miles in the distance a line of trees appeared overnight. I had to talk to someone, and the only people who would be experiencing what I was, were my neighbors the Petersons. An elderly retired farming couple, who would smile and wave when they saw me around the immature neighborhood. Every now and then Mrs. Peterson would bring me over some of her homemade banana bread. I knew the Petersons wouldn’t be back from church till around noon. So, I waited and watched for their returning vehicle.
As I saw the Petersons sliver pickup truck rumble down the empty streets, I quickly stood up and walked out the door, hoping to catch them before they got too settled. I stepped onto their porch and rang the doorbell, a moment later Mr. Peterson answered the door
“Eric, what can I do for you?”
“Hey Mr. Peterson, just wondering if you could help me with something, would you mind joining me down on the driveway?”
He shrugged slightly and slowly followed me down to his driveway
“Well, we’re here, what can I help you with?”
I tripped over my words, realizing I hadn’t rehearsed this part in my mind
“Um, well I was wondering if you have noticed the forest in the distance? I just don’t remember it being this big, do you?”
He gazed off in direction I pointed; I could see his eyes scanning the horizon uncertainly. A moment later he spoke
“Eric, maybe I’m just missing it, but which woods are you talking about?”
His statement caught me off guard, how was he not seeing it?
“Well, all of it I guess a couple weeks ago there was only a small forest off in the distance, or at least that’s what I remember, but now the entire horizon is trees. Has it always been like that?”
He looked back to where I was pointing, I noticed him quickly glance back towards me
“Son, I think you may need to get your eyes checked, as long as we’ve lived here, nothings been out that way other than farmer Marrison’s field, I’m not sure where you’re getting this forest idea.”
I stood in shock staring at the woods that now surrounded the fields around the neighborhood. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Mr. Peterson inching away from me.
“Eric, I hope you’re doing well, and I’d love to talk some more, but I really do need to help the Missus prepare supper, we’ll try to stop by later ok?”
My voice cracked in response “yeah, sure Mr. Peterson”
He walked back up the driveway and disappeared behind the door. I stood frozen for a moment, I didn’t know what to believe, my eyes clearly told me that miles and miles of forest had grown overnight, but Mr. Peterson told me that there wasn’t a single tree as far as his eyes could see. In a daze I walked back to my house.
I found myself collapsing on the couch in my living room, looking directly at the woods far in the distance. An idea formed in my mind, and I picked up my phone and opened Google earth. Typing in my address, I widened the view to cover the surrounding miles. There was nothing, no forests of any kind for at least 20 miles. I checked older images, two years ago; nothing. Five, seven, ten years ago nothing more than a handful of trees in this area in last decade. A mix of frustration and fear filled my body, and I quickly stood turned to the windows and lifted my phone to take a picture, I could show this to Mr. Peterson the next time we talked.
But when I looked at the picture, I could feel panic rising in my veins. The picture perfectly captured my living room and the frames of the windows, but where the woods should have been seen through the glass, there was just a blurry gray blob, the type of distortion that you’d seen on damaged film pictures, not those taken on an iPhone. In disbelief I walked out on the deck and took another picture, maybe the distortion was just the way the light bounced off the windows. The second picture confirmed what the first showed, the deck, the fields beyond it, and the sky itself showed up perfectly fine, but the line of trees on the horizon was another gray distortion.
A week passed, and every day the line of trees grew closer between Monday and Friday the forest moved from the distant horizon to the edge of my half acre property. The empty fields I’d grown used to were gone, replaced by a tall, dense forest. Our incomplete neighborhood looked more like two houses buried deep in a thick endless woodland, than a new subdivision in the middle of Midwest fields. Driving to work was like driving through the untamed woods of Appalachia. The trees swayed with the wind and the branches shifted constantly. But they were eerily quiet, no birds sang from the branches, no choruses of insects chirped through the night, and no animals wandered the grounds. The forest was green, but dead. And yet it felt like every tree had eyes and was aware of my coming and goings.
I only left my home for work, already I had used all my sick days, and tapped into my vacation time. The woods felt malicious, it felt like it was aware, and not in a good way, a way that felt angry and hateful. My home felt more and more like a refuge. I imagine how I felt was similar to how early settlers and explorers felt about the stone and wooden shacks that protected them from the dark untamed land. But as the days went on, I began to feel trapped, like a fish in an aquarium. I felt isolated in a vast wild land, so I called my parents and asked them to come and visit, I even offered to cover plane tickets.
Two days later I watched an uber drive its way through the forest, it followed a path that would have made sense in a neighborhood, but in a forest, it looked like the Honda civic was weaving back and forth between the trees. I answered the door when my mom knocked. She smothered me in hugs and kisses; my dad shook my hand and pulled me in for a firm hug.
“Well son, you really got in on the ground floor of this place.”
I nodded in response
“it’s so good you see you, and to see you’re new house”
My mom said as she walked into the main part of the house
“Oh my” my mom explained as she walked up to the wall of windows “what a wonderful view! You really can see for miles from here” she said as she stared right into a thick wall of trees
“Yeah, you really can” I replied disappointed that she didn’t seem to see the trees.
My parents stayed for the weekend, and the whole time they were here, the trees outside didn’t move. They loved taking walks in the evenings together around what they thought were brand new sidewalks of a growing community. To me it looked like they were wandering in the thick underbrush of a monstrous forest. One night I watched as them as they enjoyed their walk. But as I watched, I noticed something. Movement. In this dead, lifeless forest, something in the dense underbrush was following my parents.
Panic overcame me, and I rushed to the front door, swung it open, and from the front porch I yelled
“Mom! Dad! Can you hurry back dinners ready!”
Far off in the woods I saw them turn and look at me before walking back in my direction. I stood on the porch and watched them return, whatever was in the brush followed them right till they reached the porch, as they walked up the steps a cold strong wind rose from the undergrowth and followed them into the house. My mom reacted to this by saying
“Oh, it’s getting a bit chilly out”
I begged my parents to stay for a few more days, I felt safer with them around. But my dad declared that they needed to get back home, and that was the end of the matter. I felt ashamed to tell them what was happening, I knew they weren’t seeing what I was. And I feared that telling them would worry them or make them think I’d lost my mind. I’m not crazy. I’ve touched the bark. Crushed the leaves in my hands. I even burned branches in the firepit and watched them curl black in the flames. These trees are real. They are alive in ways other trees aren’t, and it scares me.
My parents left the next afternoon, and when they left noises began to resound throughout the forest. Hallow, shifting sounds similar to the sound of wood beams settling and groaning. It sounded like the trees were stretching after a long sleep. The creaking continued until sunset, but the moment the sun disappeared so did the sound, and it was impossibly quiet again.
I woke up sometime in the middle of the night. I was cold. Why was I so cold? It took me a moment to realize, I wasn’t in my bed, I wasn’t in my room, I wasn’t even in my house. I was lying on a makeshift bed of various plants. Turning my head to the sky I was greeted by towering trees overhead, strangely illuminated by the gentle light of the moon, they swayed silently. I held my breath; the only thing I could hear was the beating of my own heart. I have never been somewhere so quiet, yet so alive. It felt like thousands of eyes were staring directly at me, like I was standing in front of the world’s largest crowd. Off in the distance a single sound was heard, a deep earthy creak, like a tree bending under heavy wind.
This sent a spark of adrenaline through me; I sat up and was soon on my feet. The air here felt thick and heavy. I took a moment and looked around, and somewhere off to my left I saw the warm glow of a distant light. Rotating myself towards the light I headed off in that direction, hurried but not running. A few moments later I became aware of another sound. Footsteps. Not my own footsteps, I had realized mere minutes before that my steps made no noise, no matter how heavy I stepped. But I could hear footsteps, something behind me was following me. I froze and so did the steps. I could feel my hands began to shake uncontrollably as a warm, damp breath brushed against my neck. It smelled like mold and decaying leaves. Terror overtook me, and I ran.
I ran as fast as I could towards the light, and I as I ran, I could hear something tromping through the undergrowth right behind me. Its noise grew closer and closer, but as I reached the circle of light that radiated from my house, whatever was chasing me stopped, I glanced behind me as I pulled open the back door but saw nothing.
It was 3:30 AM but I didn’t go back to bed, instead I rushed around the house making sure every door and window was locked, then I packed a bag. I was done, I had to get out of here, even if I’d lost the house, I didn’t care. I sat ready to go, waiting for the sun to rise. I wasn’t going to go out there in the dark again. The sun rose at 6:45 and when it did, I hopped into the car and backed out of the garage. As I pulled onto the street, I noticed just how dense the trees had grown over night, it was impossible to drive in a straight line, I was constantly having to bob and weave. Everywhere I looked new trees sprouted up. I could see full sized trees erupting out of the ground on either side of my car.
A sapling burst from the asphalt and in the span of a blink it thickened into a trunk wider than the car. it happened too quickly for me to react, and the car slammed head on into its sturdy trunk. The airbag went off, and I laid there unconscious.
I don’t know how long I was out, but when I came to, I felt a thick stream of blood flowing from my forehead. My body ached as I tried to move, the woods were once again unnaturally silent. Lifting myself from a pile of shattered glass, I stepped out of the car and looked around. It was completely different, the trees were shifting, the path the car had followed was now totally swallowed by fresh trees.
I had nowhere to go, but back home. I began walking back the direction the car came, it was painful and I limped my way along. I hadn’t gotten too far in the car, no more than half a mile, as I walked, I heard the sounds of new plants and trees popping up behind me, if I stood still too long little weeds would attempt to wrap around my ankles. I wandered around for a while, before finding my house, its pure white walls were now overgrown with vines and moss. I stumbled inside and locked the door.
That’s where I am now. I’m hiding in the bathroom, writing this as quick as I can. I can hear the house moan and bow under the weight of new trees and plants, I can hear the windows cracking, and some have shattered as branches have burst through them. It feels like the trees are squeezing my house like a boa constructor squeezes its prey. I don’t think I’m getting out of this. The walls keep groaning inward. I can hear roots beneath the floorboards now.
I don’t think this house is going to hold much longer.
#entertainment
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I should never have moved to the Midwest.
Looking back, I don’t even know why I did. When I first came to my parents to express my desire to leave Rhode Island behind, they tried to change my mind. My dad told me how foolish it would be to leave such a good job behind, and my mom reminded me how much family I had in the area, and how much they would miss me. After they realized that they couldn’t talk me out of moving, they changed tactics and tried to influence where I would go.
“Be sure to go somewhere scenic, so people will remember to visit you.” My dad declared
“I don’t want you going to any big cities, they’re dangerous.” My concerned mom said
But when I told them I was moving to Iowa, they both stared in silence for a moment.
My dad spoke first “you’ll die of boredom; there’s nothing there but fields.”
Agreeing my mom followed up with “Really Eric, Iowa is a dead-end state, couldn’t you pick somewhere more interesting?”
But I told them I had made up my mind, I had received a job offer from an Iowa aerospace company that paid nearly double what the mechanical engineering job I’d worked since college paid. And since housing in the Midwest was far cheaper, in Iowa I would actually be able to afford a house, whereas in Rhode Island I was doomed to an apartment forever.
Seeing that they couldn’t change my mind, my parents reluctantly came to peace with my decision. Only now do I wish I had listened to their pleas. Only now when its too late does inner city New York or San Francisco sound far safer than Iowa.
Nearly a year after I first broke the news to my parents I found myself settling into my new home in Iowa. Adding my new salary with what I already had in savings gave me enough confidence to purchase a house. Since many people my age have given altogether on the dream of owning a house, I felt a deep sense of pride from the moment the realtor handed me the keys. My house is a new build, in a brand-new development on the growing outskirts of my city. In fact, the neighborhood is so new that only two houses have been built so far. Mine and my neighbor’s four lots down the way.
The roads are brand new, without any cracks or faded lines in the asphalt. The sidewalks are fresh cement without so much as a weed growing in the crack. The area is pristine, as new as could be. Six minutes down the road was an up-and-coming shopping center that was home to a Kwik Star, a Taco Bell, and a Wal-Mart. The area felt like an oasis in the desert, as it was surrounded by the fields of farmers who had refused to sell to the developers.
For me, a city boy who had never spent much time in the country, the under-construction neighborhood was like a base on the moon. The vast openness of the surrounding fields made me uneasy if I thought about it too much, it felt like there was nowhere to hide. It felt like if I were to go beyond these manmade boundaries I would stand completely exposed.
My house was nice, far nicer than I ever thought I would have. It was a modern farmhouse style, with a black roof and a pure white exterior. The back side opened with several floor to ceiling windows that looked out over the half acre backyard and beyond it to the mile or two of bare fields. In the distance a small patch of woods separated the horizon from the sky. As beautiful as the view was, an eerie feeling always crept over me whenever I stared out those windows for too long.
A few months in I noticed a change. It was a Saturday morning, I sat at my dining room table, wrapped in my favorite bathrobe, sitting a fresh cup of coffee. Before me was the wide-open view that I was slowly getting used to, only something was different. I happened to notice it out of the corner of my eye as I read a book. Setting the book down in confusion I looked again. It was the woods at the very back of the view. It was bigger. Not taller, but wider. It looked like the small patch of untouched trees had nearly doubled in size.
I frowned and muttered to myself
“Has that always been like that?”
I got up and walked up to the glass, straining my eyes for a better look. My eyes weren’t wrong; the forest was bigger than I remembered. I stood there for a moment, quietly staring into the void. Had I really misremembered the view out the window? Had I really misremembered the view? Maybe the lighting was different. Maybe I was seeing the tree line from a slightly different angle. After all I hadn’t spent much time in the last few months looking out the window since the view made me uncomfortable. I must have remembered wrong; forests don’t grow overnight. After I convinced myself of this, I turned away from the window and got on with the rest of my day.
I spent the day reading, cleaning and playing video games. I went the whole day without thinking about how I misremembered the view behind my house, nor did I look out the windows except in passing. The day went fast, and before I knew it, I was in the kitchen preparing a slightly late dinner. As I dropped Kraft mac and cheese into a pot of boiling water, I glanced out the window. The sun was setting and in the dying light and I could have sworn that the forest was covering even more of the horizon. I opened the sliding glass door and walked out to the edge of my deck, as I stared into the distance. It must be the lighting. The sunset must have been casting strange light across the forest, making it look different. Making it look bigger. Still trying to rationalize it in my mind I went back to tending to my mac and cheese.
That night I had a terrible dream. In the dream I was trapped in a thick, dark forest. Every direction I looked was unfamiliar to me. The woods felt suffocating, as though the forest itself was pressing against my lungs. And then all at once from nowhere and everywhere a mocking laughter shook the ground, as a dark mist consumed me in shadow.
The next morning I woke from restless sleep, stumbled from my room and into the living room, in shock I stood in front of the wall of windows, as I saw that the entire horizon was now nothing but forest. I rubbed my eyes and looked again, but it was no different. Two miles in the distance a line of trees appeared overnight. I had to talk to someone, and the only people who would be experiencing what I was, were my neighbors the Petersons. An elderly retired farming couple, who would smile and wave when they saw me around the immature neighborhood. Every now and then Mrs. Peterson would bring me over some of her homemade banana bread. I knew the Petersons wouldn’t be back from church till around noon. So, I waited and watched for their returning vehicle.
As I saw the Petersons sliver pickup truck rumble down the empty streets, I quickly stood up and walked out the door, hoping to catch them before they got too settled. I stepped onto their porch and rang the doorbell, a moment later Mr. Peterson answered the door
“Eric, what can I do for you?”
“Hey Mr. Peterson, just wondering if you could help me with something, would you mind joining me down on the driveway?”
He shrugged slightly and slowly followed me down to his driveway
“Well, we’re here, what can I help you with?”
I tripped over my words, realizing I hadn’t rehearsed this part in my mind
“Um, well I was wondering if you have noticed the forest in the distance? I just don’t remember it being this big, do you?”
He gazed off in direction I pointed; I could see his eyes scanning the horizon uncertainly. A moment later he spoke
“Eric, maybe I’m just missing it, but which woods are you talking about?”
His statement caught me off guard, how was he not seeing it?
“Well, all of it I guess a couple weeks ago there was only a small forest off in the distance, or at least that’s what I remember, but now the entire horizon is trees. Has it always been like that?”
He looked back to where I was pointing, I noticed him quickly glance back towards me
“Son, I think you may need to get your eyes checked, as long as we’ve lived here, nothings been out that way other than farmer Marrison’s field, I’m not sure where you’re getting this forest idea.”
I stood in shock staring at the woods that now surrounded the fields around the neighborhood. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Mr. Peterson inching away from me.
“Eric, I hope you’re doing well, and I’d love to talk some more, but I really do need to help the Missus prepare supper, we’ll try to stop by later ok?”
My voice cracked in response “yeah, sure Mr. Peterson”
He walked back up the driveway and disappeared behind the door. I stood frozen for a moment, I didn’t know what to believe, my eyes clearly told me that miles and miles of forest had grown overnight, but Mr. Peterson told me that there wasn’t a single tree as far as his eyes could see. In a daze I walked back to my house.
I found myself collapsing on the couch in my living room, looking directly at the woods far in the distance. An idea formed in my mind, and I picked up my phone and opened Google earth. Typing in my address, I widened the view to cover the surrounding miles. There was nothing, no forests of any kind for at least 20 miles. I checked older images, two years ago; nothing. Five, seven, ten years ago nothing more than a handful of trees in this area in last decade. A mix of frustration and fear filled my body, and I quickly stood turned to the windows and lifted my phone to take a picture, I could show this to Mr. Peterson the next time we talked.
But when I looked at the picture, I could feel panic rising in my veins. The picture perfectly captured my living room and the frames of the windows, but where the woods should have been seen through the glass, there was just a blurry gray blob, the type of distortion that you’d seen on damaged film pictures, not those taken on an iPhone. In disbelief I walked out on the deck and took another picture, maybe the distortion was just the way the light bounced off the windows. The second picture confirmed what the first showed, the deck, the fields beyond it, and the sky itself showed up perfectly fine, but the line of trees on the horizon was another gray distortion.
A week passed, and every day the line of trees grew closer between Monday and Friday the forest moved from the distant horizon to the edge of my half acre property. The empty fields I’d grown used to were gone, replaced by a tall, dense forest. Our incomplete neighborhood looked more like two houses buried deep in a thick endless woodland, than a new subdivision in the middle of Midwest fields. Driving to work was like driving through the untamed woods of Appalachia. The trees swayed with the wind and the branches shifted constantly. But they were eerily quiet, no birds sang from the branches, no choruses of insects chirped through the night, and no animals wandered the grounds. The forest was green, but dead. And yet it felt like every tree had eyes and was aware of my coming and goings.
I only left my home for work, already I had used all my sick days, and tapped into my vacation time. The woods felt malicious, it felt like it was aware, and not in a good way, a way that felt angry and hateful. My home felt more and more like a refuge. I imagine how I felt was similar to how early settlers and explorers felt about the stone and wooden shacks that protected them from the dark untamed land. But as the days went on, I began to feel trapped, like a fish in an aquarium. I felt isolated in a vast wild land, so I called my parents and asked them to come and visit, I even offered to cover plane tickets.
Two days later I watched an uber drive its way through the forest, it followed a path that would have made sense in a neighborhood, but in a forest, it looked like the Honda civic was weaving back and forth between the trees. I answered the door when my mom knocked. She smothered me in hugs and kisses; my dad shook my hand and pulled me in for a firm hug.
“Well son, you really got in on the ground floor of this place.”
I nodded in response
“it’s so good you see you, and to see you’re new house”
My mom said as she walked into the main part of the house
“Oh my” my mom explained as she walked up to the wall of windows “what a wonderful view! You really can see for miles from here” she said as she stared right into a thick wall of trees
“Yeah, you really can” I replied disappointed that she didn’t seem to see the trees.
My parents stayed for the weekend, and the whole time they were here, the trees outside didn’t move. They loved taking walks in the evenings together around what they thought were brand new sidewalks of a growing community. To me it looked like they were wandering in the thick underbrush of a monstrous forest. One night I watched as them as they enjoyed their walk. But as I watched, I noticed something. Movement. In this dead, lifeless forest, something in the dense underbrush was following my parents.
Panic overcame me, and I rushed to the front door, swung it open, and from the front porch I yelled
“Mom! Dad! Can you hurry back dinners ready!”
Far off in the woods I saw them turn and look at me before walking back in my direction. I stood on the porch and watched them return, whatever was in the brush followed them right till they reached the porch, as they walked up the steps a cold strong wind rose from the undergrowth and followed them into the house. My mom reacted to this by saying
“Oh, it’s getting a bit chilly out”
I begged my parents to stay for a few more days, I felt safer with them around. But my dad declared that they needed to get back home, and that was the end of the matter. I felt ashamed to tell them what was happening, I knew they weren’t seeing what I was. And I feared that telling them would worry them or make them think I’d lost my mind. I’m not crazy. I’ve touched the bark. Crushed the leaves in my hands. I even burned branches in the firepit and watched them curl black in the flames. These trees are real. They are alive in ways other trees aren’t, and it scares me.
My parents left the next afternoon, and when they left noises began to resound throughout the forest. Hallow, shifting sounds similar to the sound of wood beams settling and groaning. It sounded like the trees were stretching after a long sleep. The creaking continued until sunset, but the moment the sun disappeared so did the sound, and it was impossibly quiet again.
I woke up sometime in the middle of the night. I was cold. Why was I so cold? It took me a moment to realize, I wasn’t in my bed, I wasn’t in my room, I wasn’t even in my house. I was lying on a makeshift bed of various plants. Turning my head to the sky I was greeted by towering trees overhead, strangely illuminated by the gentle light of the moon, they swayed silently. I held my breath; the only thing I could hear was the beating of my own heart. I have never been somewhere so quiet, yet so alive. It felt like thousands of eyes were staring directly at me, like I was standing in front of the world’s largest crowd. Off in the distance a single sound was heard, a deep earthy creak, like a tree bending under heavy wind.
This sent a spark of adrenaline through me; I sat up and was soon on my feet. The air here felt thick and heavy. I took a moment and looked around, and somewhere off to my left I saw the warm glow of a distant light. Rotating myself towards the light I headed off in that direction, hurried but not running. A few moments later I became aware of another sound. Footsteps. Not my own footsteps, I had realized mere minutes before that my steps made no noise, no matter how heavy I stepped. But I could hear footsteps, something behind me was following me. I froze and so did the steps. I could feel my hands began to shake uncontrollably as a warm, damp breath brushed against my neck. It smelled like mold and decaying leaves. Terror overtook me, and I ran.
I ran as fast as I could towards the light, and I as I ran, I could hear something tromping through the undergrowth right behind me. Its noise grew closer and closer, but as I reached the circle of light that radiated from my house, whatever was chasing me stopped, I glanced behind me as I pulled open the back door but saw nothing.
It was 3:30 AM but I didn’t go back to bed, instead I rushed around the house making sure every door and window was locked, then I packed a bag. I was done, I had to get out of here, even if I’d lost the house, I didn’t care. I sat ready to go, waiting for the sun to rise. I wasn’t going to go out there in the dark again. The sun rose at 6:45 and when it did, I hopped into the car and backed out of the garage. As I pulled onto the street, I noticed just how dense the trees had grown over night, it was impossible to drive in a straight line, I was constantly having to bob and weave. Everywhere I looked new trees sprouted up. I could see full sized trees erupting out of the ground on either side of my car.
A sapling burst from the asphalt and in the span of a blink it thickened into a trunk wider than the car. it happened too quickly for me to react, and the car slammed head on into its sturdy trunk. The airbag went off, and I laid there unconscious.
I don’t know how long I was out, but when I came to, I felt a thick stream of blood flowing from my forehead. My body ached as I tried to move, the woods were once again unnaturally silent. Lifting myself from a pile of shattered glass, I stepped out of the car and looked around. It was completely different, the trees were shifting, the path the car had followed was now totally swallowed by fresh trees.
I had nowhere to go, but back home. I began walking back the direction the car came, it was painful and I limped my way along. I hadn’t gotten too far in the car, no more than half a mile, as I walked, I heard the sounds of new plants and trees popping up behind me, if I stood still too long little weeds would attempt to wrap around my ankles. I wandered around for a while, before finding my house, its pure white walls were now overgrown with vines and moss. I stumbled inside and locked the door.
That’s where I am now. I’m hiding in the bathroom, writing this as quick as I can. I can hear the house moan and bow under the weight of new trees and plants, I can hear the windows cracking, and some have shattered as branches have burst through them. It feels like the trees are squeezing my house like a boa constructor squeezes its prey. I don’t think I’m getting out of this. The walls keep groaning inward. I can hear roots beneath the floorboards now.
I don’t think this house is going to hold much longer.
#entertainment
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| 4,000 mlx | |
| 11 | |
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