Surprise surprise! My horror brain was hungry for some writing…
Silence of the trees was frightening. He loved the cabin, but it was so quiet around it; no bird sang its morning praise to the dawning day, no wind ran its careful fingers through the autumn-bright leaves, there was nothing.
“I’m so glad we bought this place, honey!” She said, “it’s so peaceful! And the view…this will be the cosiest weekend ever!” She chattered away almost too eagerly. He knew this tone well; she was trying hard to convince both him and herself that their marriage was worth saving. He just knew - she’ll hide that unpleasant conversation behind ‘all the cosy stuff’; pumpkin spice lattes, barbeque steak, home-made bread. She was good at that. The superficial stuff. He gave a heavy sigh for an answer. He was good at keeping quiet, hiding his words in the deep dark caverns of his soul. His words were harsh winter winds, biting her viciously until her eyes got teary. They had drifted apart. No pumpkin spice lattes or cinnamon-scented candles could change that. The silent trees beckoned him to say the last words killing their marriage.
“You can’t keep pretending we’re okay!” He snapped after the second slice of the pumpkin pie they were having on the deck of the cabin. The romantic setting dissonated eerily with his yelling. The candles flickered as he got up and threw his wool blanket away.
“No, honey, please! Let’s just have some pie!”
“And pretend we’re okay like we always do?!”
His voice got swallowed up by the mossy silence of the trees. They stood around them - quiet judges of their failed marriage. Dark silhouettes of hangmen waiting for the sweet screech of the hanged one swinging on the gallows.
“It’s over! Let’s just go back and file in the papers!” He said.
“No, no, please! Honey!” She tried to stop him with sugar-sweet kisses, yet he pushed her away coldly. He knew what would follow. She threw a tantrum, a loud fit of crying and just ran off. At home she’d just lock herself in the bathroom sobbing, but here she ran into the dusky trees like a headless chicken.
“Are you serious?” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be childish! Come on! I won’t be the brave knight saving a damsel in distress, lost in the woods!”
He gave her a minute to calm down and come back. The silence grew heavy, no twigs snapped under her feet. Nothing. The trees stood waiting for him to follow. Finally, he got up and ran into the dark columns, countless around him. Silence swallowed up every sound he tried to make. The autumn leaves fell to the ground soundless. He could barely see in the dusky evening when he finally spotted her. Or what he presumed was her. She was leaning on a tree, her back glued to the trunk, her eyes wide in horror, bulging from their sockets, her mouth opened in a scream without a sound.
“Honey! Honey! What...?” He yelled, running closer. Her skin felt like tree bark, her body hard as wood. He screamed his heart out trying to rip her off the tree, but he could not. His back got sweaty when he finally fell backward into the moss only to observe the tree swallow her features until there was nothing left but smooth bark.
“No! Daphne honey, no! I love you! Come back to me! Come back!” He yelled, hugging the tree.
The trees looked down on him silently judging. Pouring their blood-red leaves on his head.
“Take me! Take me with her! I’m nothing without her!” He begged the trees, but they stood unmoved. He threw his hands around their cool trunks in hope they’d swallow him too, but they stood observing the fool in silent ridicule.
“I can’t live without her! I won’t live without her!” He ran back to the cabin. There was a good piece of rope lying around somewhere…
The trees listened to the sweet sound of the rope singing as the body swung back and forth. The only sound they allowed to penetrate their cruel silence.
Very dark.
Another great story. 👍