Gina Ranalli - House of Fallen Trees

She turned around, intending to head back in the direction she’d come, only to find a tree directly behind her. She’d almost walked into it.

“What the…” She looked up at the tree, into its highest branches and then down, seeing its thick roots digging into the ground at her feet.

She shook her head slightly, stepping around the tree and continuing on her way. It wasn’t long before she came to a cluster of trees, so thick and close together she knew for certain she hadn’t passed this way before. Frowning, she looked behind her, double checking to see if the sun was now at her back.

It was.

“Okay,” she said aloud. “I guess I wasn’t staying in as straight of a line as I thought I was.” But still…she couldn’t have veered one way or the other that much, could she? She thought she’d been being very careful.

The air around her was growing chilly once again and she began to wonder if the chill was actually coming from within rather than without. She was getting that sleepy, disconnected feeling again and considered finding a rock to sit on for a while. That sounded nice.

She looked off to her left and saw a ragged maroon loveseat, off-white stuffing poking out of the cushion seams and various tears in the armrests.

Karen smiled, wondering how on earth she had missed seeing that . It looked so cozy and soft, like the worn furniture in her college dorm. Perfectly broken in.

And she was so sleepy. She walked to the loveseat like a woman in a trance, eyes narrowed to drowsy slits. Her nose and ears felt very cold — much colder than a Washington November had any right to be — but she could curl up on the loveseat, warming herself with her own body heat.

She reached the loveseat and immediately lay down on it, her hands beneath her cheek making an adequate pillow, her butt pressed into the back of the loveseat and instantly warming it to her body temperature.

This must have been put here by someone who knew people would eventually come along, tired and in need of a quick catnap. A wise and thoughtful person. And the mysterious Samaritan — whoever it was — also maintained the loveseat well enough to at least keep the pine needles and fallen leaves off it. It was conveniently free of any kind of bird droppings as well, which Karen was quite happy about as she closed her eyes, snuggling down deeper into the soft, velvety cushions.

Just a quick nap and then she’d be back on her way, back to the house and the guys. She just needed a little rest and to warm herself up a bit…

She knew, as she’d always known, that she and sleep were intimate friends, lovers almost, and it could soothe her when nothing else could and so she welcomed it almost as eagerly as it welcomed her.

She didn’t quite make it though.

There was some distant noise distracting her from surfing beneath the waves of sleep, drowning in a comforting curl.

She refused to acknowledge the sound at first, stubbornly squeezing her eyes shut as if the act would somehow squeeze her ears shut as well.

Bizarre rustling sounds, as though someone — or something her deep mind screamed from some distant and undiscovered planet — were kicking their way through deep drifts of dead leaves. Crackling, snapping noises, but she would not give in to her curiosity. Her exhaustion was too heavy a burden and needed to be taken care of first. After her nap, she would look. She would open her eyes and see what the strange sounds were all about. She buried her face into the crook of her elbow, feeling her own warmth there…and darkness. So sweetly dark and warm…

But then another noise attacked her with such ferocity she jerked up, eyes wide.

The ground beneath her body was cold — nearly frozen — and the trees were almost upon her, crowding in close, some of them mere inches from her body. Five trees in all, surrounding her as though they were the fat bars of a very small cage. Beyond them, Dusty the dog barked shrilly at her…or at them , Karen couldn’t tell which. She saw the dog clearly, about twenty feet away and not daring to come any closer.

The trees were…were what? Alive ? Of course they were. All trees are alive. But these trees, she thought…they’re malevolent. Evil. And alive in a way no other trees were.

She was somewhat grateful for her dulled senses now. She was sure if she had had all her wits about her, she would have run screaming into the descending night to disappear forever. Besides the grogginess, the only thing keeping her relatively calm was the dog. The dog was real. It saw what she saw and sensed what she sensed.

Something more than just evil. Something ancient and sleepy, but waking up and waking up hungry.

Slowly, Karen first sat, then stood, ignoring the dead leaves and pine needles in her hair, the dirt covering the side of her body that had lain against the cold ground. Some instinct was telling her to move slowly, slip past the trees surrounding her. Step carefully, do not touch them, do not step on any exposed roots. Do not wake them further.

Insanity, she thought. It’s the only explanation.

The dog continued to bark, apparently unaware her protests could cause the trees to become more aware of the presence of “outsiders”, which is what Karen assumed she was to whatever entity ruled these woods.

She stared hard at the dog, trying to will her to silence, but Dusty only took a step back and barked louder, more urgently.

Karen judged the distance between the trees directly in front of her. The space between them was wide enough for her to fit through, but barely. She took a deep breath, held it and slipped between them like a soaped up convict escaping naked from between the bars of his prison cell.

Once she was on the other side of the tree cage, she bolted through the forest as fast as she could, racing past the dog who spun, startled, barking hysterically before breaking into its own run, keeping pace with Karen for a moment before darting ahead, a reddish blur in the faltering light. Follow the dog , Karen told herself. Follow her, she knows the way .

Dusty easily leapt over and around low shrubs, logs and rocks, weaving her way around trees Karen was positive had not been there when she’d first ventured into the woods.

Stupid, she thought, breathing hard, legs and arms pumping, praying she wouldn’t fall. If she fell, she knew it would be over. There were things moving behind her; she could sense them. Behind her and to either side as well.

Karen ran, sometimes with only a flash of the dog’s bushy tail to lead the way.

There was movement above her now, flashes of shadows crossing the ground just before her feet pounded down on it, dark figures moving up there, but she didn’t dare look up, didn’t take her eyes off the fleeing dog for more than just fear of tripping. For fear of seeing .

And then they broke through, coming out of the edge of the woods slightly north of where she’d gone in.

Dusty skidded to a stop just short of the walkway, whirled and barked at Karen as if urging her forward, warning her she wasn’t quite clear yet, just a little further, and Karen, eyes on the dog, forgot her balance just long enough for the toes of her left foot to catch something and the next thing she knew, she was sailing though the air, perpendicular to the ground for what seemed like a long, long time and then crashing down hard, knees and elbows colliding with the ground a mere instant before her chin hit. Her teeth clacked together hard as her back was bent into a U shape — impossible, she thought through the intense and immediate pain — backs are not supposed to do this. She groaned in pain, tasting dirt in her mouth, but thankfully, no blood and she hadn’t heard anything snap. She did however hear a distinct shuffling sound near her face and when she looked up, Dusty was there, sniffing cautiously.