Gina Ranalli - House of Fallen Trees

He had no lips to speak of, his teeth fully exposed, small and sharp in the round hole of his mouth.

She felt her belly do a slow underwater somersault. She closed her eyes, swaying on her feet, clenching her teeth, trying to will the contents of her stomach to remain where they were. She took several deep breaths through her nose before she was brave enough to open her eyes again, certain the violinist would be back to normal. But he wasn’t.

He was still a monster and as her gaze wandered away from the photograph, traveling down the line of photos on the wall, she could see that all of them had undergone a similar transformation.

They were all monsters, but Karen didn’t let her eyes focus too closely on any of the rest. Didn’t think her sanity could take if she saw them… changed…mutated…

Instead, telling herself to remain calm and not run, she walked slowly away from the wall, towards the staircase, knowing— praying —that Rory and Saul were just on the next floor up.

They weren’t far and she needed them. Needed them to see what she saw. But she didn’t obey herself for long and had only gone a few steps before breaking into a run, stumbling up the stairs, half shouting, half crying out their names.

She knew how it sounded. Of course she did. But what could she do? It was the truth, dammit, and they had to see .

Karen fully expected the photographs downstairs to look perfectly normal once she’d dragged both Rory and Saul down to look at them, but as it turned out, that wasn’t necessary.

In her haste to get to the men, she had sped through the upstairs hallway, not even glancing at the photos lining those walls, and Rory had stepped out of one of the bedrooms first, holding paint swatches in one hand, Saul right behind him, hands in pockets. “You have to see them!” Karen cried. “I’m not going crazy! They’re monsters!”

“What?” Rory asked, his cheeks flooding with color.

“Coffins in the basement and the pictures are monsters!”

She fell into him, feeling like a fool, like a terrified buffoon of a woman in a gothic horror novel, certain she had to get it out of her before she fainted. Because she knew she was only moments away from passing out. Just like that night in her office… “The pictures are of monsters,” she said and then surprised herself by not fainting but vomiting instead, turning her head to the side at the very last instant to avoid puking on Rory.

“Whoa!” Saul stepped around Rory and grabbed her with both arms around the waist, staying behind her, holding her up as she doubled over, spewing the contents of her belly all over the antique Oriental floor runner while tears of terror and humiliation spilled down her face.

“It’s okay, Karen,” he said. “You’re okay.”

Over her head, Rory said, “What the fuck is going on?”

“I don’t know,” Saul replied, not loosening his grip on her even after her retching became dry heaves. “Food poisoning?”

Karen sank to her knees, taking Saul to the floor with her. She was openly sobbing now, terrified she was losing her mind, but when she tried to look up at Rory, she saw the photographs on the wall behind him. Her cries became wails of anguish as she pointed and screamed, “ LOOK !”

She knew they wouldn’t see what she saw. How could they? They were sane and she was not. She needed medical attention. A hospital. Meds and restraints.

“Holy fuck!” Saul blurted, untangling himself from her and trying to stand. His words were nearly drowned out by Karen’s howls but Rory heard enough to turn around and look in the direction Karen was pointing as Saul stared in wide-eyed wonder.

“Jesus,” he whispered and the color that had only moments before flushed his face now bleached out as if it had never been there. He reached quivering fingertips towards the glass of the nearest photo, but stopped just before they made contact. He looked over his shoulder, first at Saul and then down at Karen before returning his full attention to first the same photograph and then the entire wall.

Karen’s red-rimmed eyes traced his slow path. Though she couldn’t see every photograph from her position on the floor, she could tell by the faces of her new friends that each and every one of them had changed.

They were no longer pictures of long-dead, unsmiling children in dresses and suits. Though they still wore the same clothing, the creatures inside the clothes were distinctly not human.

Half an hour later, the three of them sat in the kitchen, visibly shaken and uncertain of what to do with themselves.

“Someone must have come in here before we arrived,” Rory said. “Messed with the pictures…I don’t…could have been days ago for all we know.”

Karen shook her head. “No! I told you, I’d just looked at them before I went down to the basement and they were all normal.”

“Before you went down to the basement,” Rory repeated. “The basement with the coffins.”

“That’s right.” Her voice was stronger now, though her eyes remained puffy and red.

“There’s nothing but junk in the basement, Karen.”

Several seconds ticked by, Karen trying to decide how to respond to this lie. Finally, she simply said, “You’re wrong.”

Rory glared at her and Karen suspected he thought she may have had something to do with the changes in the photographs.

Saul, sensing the tension, quickly said, “Maybe whoever defaced the photos was also in the basement.”

Rory’s eyes darted to his friend and he snapped, “That’s fucking ridiculous. Who the fuck would bring caskets down to the basement? And even more importantly, why ?”

“If you think I’m lying,” Karen interrupted, “why not just go down there and see for yourself?”

“Well, obviously, I’m gonna have to,” Rory told her, sounding snotty and petulant.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” she said. But she didn’t know if she really was ready. Her headache was coming back and her stomach still gave a lurch every so often. The chill from the house seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her bones and she grimaced every time she noticed her hands trembling.

“Why would I make something like this up, Rory?” she demanded. She was getting angry now and it felt good. So much better than feeling like a fearful, reprimanded child. “If you think I’m full of shit, why don’t you just go down there and see for yourself?”

Rory’s lips pressed together in a hard white line. She could tell he was just as pissed as she was. But did he actually think she ran around the house vandalizing every last photograph into something gruesome? The idea alone was beyond comprehension.

“I think we should go down there, Rory,” Saul said. “If there’s someone in the house—”

“There’s no one in the fucking house,” Rory snapped, his eyes never leaving Karen’s.

“Oh,” she said. “So, we’re back to thinking I’m crazy, right? Not only did I imagine someone touching me last night, but now I’m imagining entire scenarios involving coffins and creepy pictures. Is that right, Rory? You think I’m just some fucking nut-job who needs to be institutionalized?”

“I didn’t say that,” he replied.

“You didn’t have to.” Karen stared right back, chin raised defiantly.

Saul cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Arguing about it isn’t gonna help, guys,” he said. He touched Rory’s shoulder to get the other man to look at him. “Let’s just go check it out. No harm, no foul, okay?”

Reluctantly, Rory said, “Fine,” pushing his chair back from the table so its feet made sharp scraping sounds against the linoleum. “Let’s go.”