The Last Evening

It was the last evening before Alice would leave for university. The house was quiet, her suitcase packed and waiting by the door. She found herself restless, drawn to the oak tree in a way she couldn’t explain. It stood at the edge of the property, silhouetted against the fading twilight.

The oak tree watched her as she approached. As she got closer, Alice noticed something strange. The tree’s bark seemed to heave, almost as if it were breathing.

She placed her hand on the trunk.

As her fingers touched the bark, a ripple of warmth spread up her arm, and suddenly, the world shifted. The tree, the night sky—they all blurred, and then cleared again, but it was different. Everything was covered in silver light.

Her hand remained pressed against the tree, but now it felt softer, like skin, warm and pulsing. She tried to pull away, but her fingers were stuck. She tugged harder, but the tree wouldn’t let go.

Then she heard it—low, faint but unmistakable, as if it were coming from the depths of the oak itself.

“Stay.”

She tried to yank her hand free, but the tree’s grip remained. The voice grew louder, more insistent, multiplying.

“Stay with us.”

The bark shifted around her fingers, and from within the tree, shapes began to emerge—faces, pale and ghostly, pressing against the wood from the inside. Their eyes were hollow, their mouths stretched wide in silent screams. She recognized them. People she had seen in town, long gone.

“You belong here.”

“No!” she shouted: She pulled away, and the tree released her. She stumbled back.

The voices faded, the faces retreating back into the bark. The world snapped back to normal, the tree standing still and silent.

Alice left the town and the tree behind in the morning.