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The Hanging Trees
An unreleased short story from the book:
The Last Breath: Tales of Survival in a Zombie-Infested World
Marissa had long since lost the sense of time. Days blended into each other, marked only by the rising and setting of a sun that no longer held any warmth. The world outside had become a wasteland, a place where only the most desperate survived. The zombies—the dead, the monsters that had once been human—were no longer the only threat. Now, there were darker forces at work, creeping across the land like a shadow.
Her legs were sore, her throat parched, and her stomach empty. She had no choice but to push forward, away from the hordes of the undead that wandered the world, endlessly searching for something to feed on. She had been running for days, weeks perhaps, her mind growing hazy with exhaustion. Every forest she had passed through had felt the same—silent, dead, without a trace of life. She had hoped that this one would be different.
But as she entered the forest, she felt it immediately—the air was thicker here. The oppressive weight of something ancient seemed to hang over the trees. Their trunks twisted in grotesque shapes, each one darker than the last, as though they were trying to keep her from moving forward. The leaves rustled with an unsettling energy, but there was no wind. No breeze to explain the motion.
The trees were alive.
Her pulse quickened as she stepped deeper into the forest. The roots of the trees seemed to shift in the ground, curling and twisting like fingers grasping at the earth. They had been there for centuries, maybe longer, and they knew what they were doing. They were waiting. Watching.
Marissa pushed through the underbrush, the faintest noise of crunching leaves beneath her boots the only sound she could hear. She thought about stopping to rest, but something in the back of her mind told her not to. The forest didn’t want her to stop. The trees were watching, waiting for her to make a mistake.
This place doesn’t feel right, she thought. But what choice did she have?
The faintest sound—a whisper—caught her attention, and she froze.
At first, it was just a murmur, like wind passing through the branches. But then, it grew louder, clearer, more distinct. It was almost as if someone was calling her name.
“Marissa…” the voice whispered, slow and deliberate.
Her heart leapt in her chest. There was no one else here. She was sure of it. She had been alone for days, the only living thing for miles. Yet, that voice…
“Marissa…”
The voice came again, more insistent this time. But it wasn’t human. It sounded wrong, distorted, as if it was being pulled through the very air itself. She backed away slowly, her eyes darting around, trying to find the source. The forest felt suffocating, pressing in around her, the trees seeming to lean closer, their gnarled branches like hands reaching out to grab her.
She turned and ran.
The deeper she ran into the forest, the more the trees seemed to close in. The branches twisted in unnatural angles, almost like they were closing off her path, guiding her further in. The roots surged beneath the ground, grasping at her heels, tripping her, threatening to hold her in place.
Marissa stumbled, her breath ragged as she pushed forward. But no matter how fast she ran, no matter how hard she tried to escape, it felt like the forest was keeping pace with her. She could hear the sound of footsteps behind her, though when she glanced over her shoulder, there was nothing there. But still, the presence of something—someone—was growing. She could feel it. A presence in the air, suffocating and heavy.
She didn’t know how much longer she could keep running.
Suddenly, she skidded to a halt, her feet slipping on the loose earth. The forest had opened up into a clearing. In the center of the clearing stood a tree unlike any she had ever seen before. Its trunk was wider than any building, its bark blackened and twisted with age. Its roots crawled through the ground like fingers, and as she stepped closer, she felt them—touching her, wrapping around her ankles, pulling her toward the tree.
The voice whispered again, louder now, surrounding her, coming from all directions.
“Marissa… you can’t escape.”
She tried to pull away, but the roots tightened, constricting around her legs like chains, pulling her down toward the gnarled tree. Panic flooded her chest. Her heart was pounding in her ears, the air was thick with an ancient energy, and the trees—they were closing in.
A sudden crack broke the silence, like the snap of a branch breaking under pressure. From within the tree, something stirred. A shape—no, a figure—emerged from the bark, twisting itself free from the wood as though it had been there all along, waiting. The figure was impossibly tall, its form a blur of dark shadows and swirling roots. Its eyes glowed a sickly green, reflecting the darkness of the forest, and its mouth, too wide to be human, parted into a smile that seemed to stretch endlessly across its face.
“You should never have come here, Marissa,” it hissed.
The roots began to pull at her more violently now, dragging her toward the center of the tree. The figure’s smile twisted with malicious glee. It reached out, its arms impossibly long, fingers twisted into claws, and with one sudden, swift movement, it seized her by the wrist, pulling her toward the heart of the tree.
“You are ours now. Forever.”
The roots dug deeper into her skin, pulling her into the very earth beneath her feet, as if the ground itself were swallowing her whole. She screamed, but the sound was swallowed by the dense, oppressive air, by the earth itself, as though the forest was consuming her scream, erasing it from existence.
Her vision blurred, the pain was unbearable, and the last thing she saw before the world went black were the twisted faces of the trees, their eyes wide open and staring at her, as if they were alive—alive, and hungry.
And then there was nothing.
When the searchers came, days later, they found only the clearing, the twisted tree, and the sound of the wind whispering through the gnarled branches. But the roots, they had changed. They reached deeper into the earth, tangled and writhing as if something more had been added. And in the center of the clearing, a new figure stood, frozen, gazing out through eyes that had once been full of fear.
It was her.
Marissa, now a part of the forest itself. Trapped for eternity.
The Hanging Trees had claimed her. And they would claim anyone who dared enter their domain.
If you enjoyed this short story you will probably like our latest release available now:
The Last Breath: Tales of Survival in a Zombie-Infested World
$3.99
Prepare to face the terrifying unknown in The Last Breath: Tales of Survival in a Zombie-Infested World, a chilling collection of dark, morbid, and suspense-filled short stories that will keep you on the edge of your seat.
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