I can hear them talking. They don’t know that I know they’re here. Spread out beneath us, paid barely a thought, they surround us. Sooner or later it will be too late.
I think these things to myself while lying on a fallen log, watching the patterns the sun makes across my closed eyelids. It’s warmth tracing a path across my skin. The forest is alive all around me. Chipmunks, squirrels, and all numbers of critters monotonous in their existence. I wonder if they are spared? Not likely, the underground is unforgiving and undiscerning. No one believes me when I tell them what I hear. Little whispers all around, plotting and scheming - they love to plot and scheme. All day long they chatter. What do they talk about? I couldn’t say. It’s endless, though, and once you notice it, it’s hard to tune out. Like that one particular bird whose song caught your ear and won’t let go.
I heave a sigh, reaching my arms above my head. My fingers brush against some moss and I feel a flick on my finger. My eyes snap open and I’m momentarily blinded by the light. The chatter stops, holds its collective breath. Waits.
I wonder if they will creep closer if they think I’m unaware. If I’m just like the others who have no idea what’s happening all around them. I sit up, glancing around to confirm my suspicions. Their sacrificial scouts are frozen, peeking at me in their creep across the forest floor. In all shapes and sizes, their scouts keep watch; some tricking the most unfortunate into an untimely death. Camouflaged as one another, only the most in sync able to distinguish the difference between them.
I move to sit on the ground, my back pressed against the log, waiting to witness their slow progression. I let my eyes fall closed, a small grin sneaking its way across my face. They cannot get me, I know they are here and everyone knows you can’t catch the prey that knows you’re coming. In the distance I can hear waves crashing along the shore. I let the rhythmic thrum silence my whirling thoughts.
—
Ten years ago I found myself in these very woods. My sister and I ran through the trees while our parents lazed on the beach, watching for the emergence of migrating whales. It was getting late in the day, the golden light of the sun was sinking its way through the trees.
“One more game!” my sister squealed.
I relented, “Fine! But I’m only counting to fifty this time!”.
I turned to face the nearest tree and started counting, loudly at first, but then more quietly so I could hear the direction she’d gone. Caught up in the fun, she made no attempt to silence her footsteps. Instead, she crashed her way through the brush, laughing and causing the animals to scatter in her wake.
“Forty eight, forty nine, fifty!” I yelled. Moving my way across the forest floor I set out in pursuit. Muffling my footsteps on decaying leaves, ducking out of the way of branches so as to not give away my location, I closed in. She thought she was being clever, hiding behind the tree she chose. But she kept peeking too often and with the sun setting behind her, I could see the golden halo of my sister's hair, the sun setting it aflame.
She was looking around the tree in the opposite direction when it happened. I was about to jump out at her but something white and spindly shot out of the ground at her feet, wrapping itself around her ankle. She looked down, confusion creasing her brows and settling across her face. It’s likely she thought she just got it caught on her leg when she was running but while I watched her reach down to brush away the invasion, more sprouted on her other side.
Within seconds, my sister was covered in these white, rooty fingers and I watched her struggle. Getting pulled to the ground, she was scratching her skin raw. Bloody rivers running down her arms and legs, down her face. Not even in my worst nightmare could I imagine what was about to happen. It wasn’t like in the movies. The ground didn’t open up and swallow her whole, it was more like she was absorbed, sucked down into the dirt. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t move. I have no idea how long it took, but eventually I tore my eyes away from the spot where she disappeared. Throwing down my coat to mark the spot, I sprinted to the beach where our parents were waiting.
“The ground!” heave, gasp, choke. “The ground opened!” I shouted, my legs moving as fast as they could over the rocky beach. My parents stood up from the picnic blanket, eyes wandering the treeline for my sister.
“What are you talking about, honey? The ground opened?” my dad asked, kneeling so he was at eye level with me.
“Where is your sister?” my mom called over her shoulder, making her way towards the trees.
“MOM NO!”. The scream tore from my throat. “You can’t go in there, it will get you too!”
Talk about the wrong thing to say. My parents took off. My dad scooped me up and ran into the woods, both of them screaming my sister's name. They searched for what felt like hours, eventually going back to the beach to call for help. While we were waiting for the police and search teams, I tried to find my jacket and that place again, but it was gone.
—
They’ve started to crawl again. I keep peeking from beneath my lashes, monitoring their encroachment. I feel a tickle on my ankle, like an ant crawling up my pants leg, but I know better. One by one they wrap themselves around me. Lashing out, I grab at the bunch around my left ankle. I tear and shred them from my skin. Standing up with a fist full of their snare, I start pulling them like a rope.
Hand over hand I pull and they come up from the ground. Behind me I hear a rumble and I know I don’t have much time. I step up onto the log, hoping to give myself another minute or two. There is a wave-like crest building in the soil around me. I glance over my shoulder and stop in my tracks.
My jacket is laying on the ground, still as pink as the day I threw it down. I guess they had me in their sights all along.
Everything pauses. No bird takes flight, no mosquito buzzes around my ear. I step down off the log and bend to pick up my coat. There is tension, like the ground doesn’t want to let go. I grunt, pulling it further and further out of the dirt until, like a cap exploding off a soda bottle, my jacket comes free and with it, a creature that could almost be my sister. A collection of the white substance given form, the creature reaches towards me, arms lengthening as more tendrils join its form. From its almost-mouth leaks a smoke, weaving its way toward me.
I hold my breath as I try to get away, backing up to keep the creature in my sights. In my haste, I trip over a rock, the air whooshing from my lungs. The smoke fills my nostrils and I melt. The tension leaves my body, my muscles turn to jello, and the creature guides me to the forest floor before breaking apart. I feel myself being wrapped up and as soon as it starts, just as before, I am absorbed into the dirt. Sinking beneath the surface, I am cocooned in their web, painless decay taking parts of me to feed their expansive network. One of many in an endless cycle, I am fodder, as were those who came before me and who will come after. Beware the woods, beware the network.
Wow a post of fiction writing! Who am I? Big shout out to
for organizing Stacktember and providing such interesting ideas. Check out this post for the rundown on what the heck Stacktember is and browse the full breakdown of weekly prompts.
Absolutely scary. So I know you said roots, but I'm of course feeling a mycelium vibe. You let me know.