The Trees Have Eyes
Journal Entry #1:
I have been living in this forest for a while now, longer than I can remember. I spend my time usually perfecting my home, a rather quaint cottage, close to the river. I have my big burly dog, who I lovingly named Squeaker, on account of the very deep and low bark he has. He’s more closely related to a wolf than the typical house dog, but his protectiveness goes above what a normal dog would do.
This morning, I looked around my house and realized there was not enough storage to carefully select what I needed for any crafts or projects I had on my list. At even a small glance, I had created a walkway to my bed, kitchen area, and door. From walls to ceiling, it was lined with clutter and unused materials. With this, I had decided that the storage in my house wouldn’t do, and therefore I decided to gather some materials to start working on a separate building to house my belongings.
The semi-tall oak trees barely towered over me and Squeaker. With them being perfect height, I cut around twenty down. There are many different sizes of oaks here, but I’ve sorted them into two categories; tall enough to deal with and not. With those that are too tall, I end up passing by them, save for the few I get syrup and flowers from. However, as I was getting closer to this oversized oak, this one had something about it being off.
I had seen many tall oaks, but this one felt *weird.*Surrounded by dead, black flowers. Well... They looked dead, but I don’t fully believe they were. They had this putrid smell, almost like a decaying animal, while also having a smell that draws you in. The grass around it was stained red, deep red, blood-like. Standing around it, even by it, made me feel nauseous, but made me want to not leave it. I was so curious, but so sick.
I was finally able to gather the strength to walk away, remembering why I had even come out this far. The sun was setting, and while making my way back home, I couldn’t stop thinking about that odd tree. What was that? Why did those flowers make me feel like that? Was it even the flowers having that smell? Those thoughts just plagued my mind, even now. It was odd, but not something I will worry about.
Journal Entry #2:
I woke up in a fright last night. It was the middle of the night, when the moon was at its highest. I saw that tree in my dreams, and when I awoke I could still smell it. I looked toward the window and caught two little glowing lights outside. Orb shaped, almost like pupils staring at me, watching. The minute my eyes focused on them, they vanished, almost as if they were never there. They made me feel so uneasy, like they were a predator, watching its prey.
I assume that this is a reflection of the moon in my window, and the double is from my shoddy glass making. What here could have such bright eyes, like white fireflies? Could it have been a bear, or some other unnerving creature? Hungry for me, hungry for my dog.
The wind was whistling even after the orbs disappeared, which was strange, because I saw no leaves, I saw no trees. Outside was truly all fog, deep and heavy all up against the window like a curtain. And the more I thought about it, and think about it currently, was that truly the wind, or something mimicking the way I whistle for Squeaker? And thinking about it now, I heard no trees rustling. If there was wind, surely I would hear the trees. I did not even hear the water in the river. It was too quiet, and unnervingly peaceful. Like death waiting for me on a boat.
Journal Entry #10:
This morning, it was rather foggy, and I had ended up working on my farm when I heard a noise. A crunch. This is normal; animals walk around all the time. But these were humanfootsteps. Crunches of leaves. Heavy and thumping. Human-like. I am the only human for miles. Maybe hundreds to thousands of miles. It’s not unusual, but it’s still terrifying.
I looked around, nothing. Nobody. I squint, looking harder, trying to find something, someone.
Nothing, still.
And then, Squeaker stood on guard, standing by my side, seeing something I wasn’t. I took this as an initiative to go inside. Something ominous was out there, not good. People have come to my home; it truly isn’t unheard of. But he would never react like that if they weren’t harmful.
Maybe I was imagining things, and he just felt like he needed to protect me because he could sense my fear.
I am going to sleep before the sun has even set. Maybe I had eaten something bad.
Journal Entry #16:
Today, like most, has been relatively normal. I had started with my usual breakfast, bread with a berry jam made by myself, and feeding Squeaker some random fish I had caught earlier in the week.
We ended up sitting outside and fishing, which had led me to the reason I had started my journaling in the first place. The night I had seen that tree, I had decided to mark it down. Throughout my time living here, I have seen many odd things occur. Before writing the first journal entry, I had experienced one other odd occurrence. About three weeks before the first entry, I had seen two little white lights off in the distance. I had called to them, thinking they may have been travelers. While rare, they are not entirely unheard of. However, these lights were perfectly in line with each other, never swinging like the lanterns I had seen others carry.
They or it never answered back.
It had left an odd feeling in me for quite some time, and therefore I had decided once another odd thing happened again, I would document it, to make sure I wasn’t dreaming or hallucinating. I still believe I may be. Nonetheless, documentation will continue until all the oddities disappear.
Me and Squeaker enjoyed a lovely day outside, and I just believe that nature looked so lovely today. The trees especially.
Journal Entry #23:
I needed more wood for another project, a simple fence for my crops, those rabbits are eating my carrots faster than ever. Continuing, me and Squeaky were walking past the tree and then, we saw little gray flakes, floating through the air. That is when I spotted it, another tree like before.
This one, however, was worse. No red, bloody grass, instead the ground was flesh. Flesh. It blended seamlessly into the ground, as if it had always been there. It squished underneath me, squelched with every step I took. And with each step, it left deep, nauseating gashes into the skin. Could it even be called skin? It winced with each step, throbbing underneath and around me, like a real living animal. Each step squirted out bits of blood, pooled around my feet, like grapes being made into wine. It stained the grass around deep crimson, leaving behind a strong copper-metallic smell as it worked to dry. The base of the tree followed suit, possibly stronger than the ground I stood on. Red vines snaked up the trunk and tree, looking like bloody veins, throbbing and pulsing. The black flowers were bigger, their smells stronger than before. Their buds were opened, looking almost like a fully bloomed tulip. A new smell, a mix of many things burning. Wood, flesh, and nature itself. The gray flakes were all around the tree, and looking up, the tree was on fire.* *All the leaves were gone, and all that was left were the branches.
The sun had looked brighter than usual and felt like it was stalking me with its heat. That must’ve been why I had not noticed the flames; they blended in with its natural surroundings, like a predator watching its prey. Weirdly, the branches never fell, nor did it pass on to other trees around. It was a beautiful, terrifying;
freak of nature.
I stood there for hours, just staring at the tree; it burned and burned. It felt like no time had passed staring at it, but when I was able to stop, the moon had come out and the flames persevered. Looking up, the moon was directly above me, indicating that it was midnight.
Squeaker had been looking at me, full of worry and fear. New for him. New for me. I look at my left hand; it is full of teeth marks and scratches. I then look at my right, also full of teeth marks and scratches, and open wounds, caused by Squeaker.
He had been pulling me to get away from this tree. Something is wrong with this area, with my forest. I don’t understand what these trees are.
We started on our walk home, Squeaker biting on my hand and pulling me. He didn’t need to, I would have run home if I had the strength to do so, or even the forethought. Something about that tree frightened me and worried him.
That is until my blood ran cold. Out of the corner of my eyes, two white eyes stared back at me. Looking at us.
Watching. Waiting.
I must be very tired, and I may have interpreted two fireflies as eyes. My stew may have gone bad, maybe I had picked the wrong mushrooms, and I need to sleep. I can rationalize myself in the morning.
Squeaker won’t settle down, and is watching by the window, waiting for something. Someone?
Journal Entry #27
I saw them again, the white glowing eyes. In the fog of the early morning, there they were, behind the trees, by the hill. As uncomforting as it was, I stared back at them.
Waiting, watching.
This was Mistake Number One.
I called out to it. “Who’s there? I can see you! Show yourself!”
This was Mistake Number Two.
I watched as the eyes faded from the trees, the few limbs I could see slinking its way back into the fog. Slowly it moved, disgustingly, as if it didn’t know how a human body would move.
It didn’t look human, but it didn’t not look human either.
I retreated inside, hastily gathering the only thing I could use to protect myself, a knife, from whatever creature was out there. Squeaker, the loyal dog that he is, sat by me, calming me before I worked myself up too much.
I see it. I see its hand, its long putrid fingers. It has left a stain on the glass, red and orange-yellow, like a mix of bile and blood. It is scratching. Scratching. Scratching. SCRATCHING. It is loud. It is disturbing. I cannot sleep. I cannot sleep with it watching me. I see it. I see it outside my window. I see it. I see its white eyes looking for me. I see it in the trees.
The trees are rather lovely today.
Journal Entry #30
I never crossed out my writing. I have never crossed out my writing. Something is here, in my home, getting past my dog. I am in danger; I fear it may be too late.
Was there anything I had heard as a child that related to this creature? White eyes, human-like body, burning, disgusting flesh trees. No. Nothing. This is entirely new to me.
I fear I may have limited time. I know that I may have upset this creature, and it is only a matter of time before it comes to deal with me.
It left me a gift. A few bits of gold, and the creation of another flesh tree, right in front of my home. I am powerless to stop this demon. It is tormenting me and will continue to do so for as long as it wishes me to live. I am entrusting this journal to Squeaker, in hopes that he will find someone, to warn them of this dangerous being. I am throwing this journal out of the window, in hopes that he can run as fast as he can and escape the evil that has burned our forest. Live long and sweet my good boy, and we shall meet again, whether it is heaven or earth.
TO THOSE WHO MAY READ:
My name is unimportant, as is where this book came from. All that matters is that you see the signs and run. Keep Squeaker safe, and protect him at all costs, just as he has protected me. You will not be able to save me, as I will never be seen again. Fear the trees and fear the eyes.
Every time I turn my head, another tree is there. Another tree, another, another, another. It is like they are appearing there, by the will of the Devil. My house is filled with those little grey flakes, and all I smell is smoke. My shoes are wet. I looked down. I am not wearing shoes. My floor is flesh. The floor is devouring my feet. My floor is flesh, covered in blood, and my feet are wet. It is dark, It is bright. I see the eyes everywhere. These trees are horrid, disgusting. Freak of nature. It is here. Its eyes are everywhere. It is EVERYWHERE.
*The page has been torn, and only this is remaining on the other side*
The trees are rather lovely today.