The canopy eclipsed the moon as he walked home. Where he came from and where he was going were not known. They would never be known.
The trail was a familiar path. Each marker passed in an easy succession, but he quickened his pace as a crisp breeze slashed his hands. While his feet were certain of each step, his mind shook with unease. The yellowed tint of his flashlight was overpowered by the crushing oppression of night.
He kept his eyes on a swivel, taking in each rustle, each shiver, and each shadow around in the woods. He did not notice the small root jutting up in the path. The toe of his worn boots hooked under it and he crashed onto the decaying leaves. The eerie glow of the flashlight shined away from his grasp. The sting of the fall pulsed through his knee as he pushed himself up. He didn’t move from where he had tripped. He should’ve.
He pulled up his old Levi’s and looked at the gash. It was a shallow scrape, nothing more than a scratch. Sighing, he got up and continued on his way.
But he couldn’t. His foot was still caught on the root. His brow furrowed as he pulled his leg back. It wouldn’t budge.
He sighed while crouching back down to examine his woody shackle. The yellow shine of the flashlight reflected its maroon tint. The air turned still, but the leaf piles around him continued to shift. He continued to struggle, his heart quickening at the strange rustles around him.
He felt the root tighten around his foot.
His eyes widened. He stopped and stared. The pressure on his boot continued to grow stronger. His breath quickened and he fell to the ground, frantically searching for a nail or something, anything sharp to cut him free. Grabbing a small rock, he heaved it again and again at the root. The rustling leaves shifted once more to reveal a weave of maroon, woody carpet.
He continued to struggle, his heart pounding out of his chest as the top of the bark began to split.
A thick, deep red sap gushed from the opening. It reeked of rotting flesh.
The roots around him began to close in, rising above the forest floor. He gave up his failed attempt at breaking free and once again stood.
He began to scream, but he knew there was no one around to hear. His voice shrieked in terror. His chest rapidly rose and fell as the tendrils crawled up his leg. He cried in agony as one jutted underneath his torn knee.
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The stench of flesh filled the air. Cautious footprints followed those he left the night before as the sun rose proudly above the leaves. Following their noses, the search party kept their heads on a swivel and their eyes on the ground.
There, in a pile of leaves, was a flashlight. A brave soul gingerly picked it up. They continued to search the area, finding nothing of the man who had walked this path the night before.
But just feet away, he watched them pass by. He stood rigid in agony. Branches wove under the mound of flesh and dried blood where his knee once was. Roots tore through his skin, escaping his body to encircle his arms, legs and torso in a web-like pattern. They were pressing down on his arms, causing the blood around his punctures to slowly drip down the branches. His head was pulled back by muscles of wood embedded in his back. The roots within his neck slowly writhed under his skin. A slow stream of blood dripped down onto the leaves. A maroon-colored trunk rose from the darkness of his throat towards the open sky.
His wide eyes searched for answers in the group passing by. A muffled sound escaped the gaping hole that was once his mouth.
The group walked on, leaving him alone in the wilderness.
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