Threnody (002).

(This is a 300-word-a-day project.)

As Jesse rubbed her hands together, she noticed that she was not alone at the base of the tree – all around here were mummified lumps of bones twisted up inside of the inner branches that were rolled back on themselves like a New Year’s Eve noisemaker; and as she watched the branches flexed, tightening on the gleaming bones that had been sucked dry of their flesh and marrow. Revolted, she dove back out into the storm, only to be suddenly jerked off of her feet by a switch looped around her ankle: white pain dug into her shin, and as she cried out she saw that the pine needles were spinning on their bases like miniature saw blades, cutting through her clothing and drawing blood in a dozen places. The bones rattled and crunched like macabre wind chimes as the tree came to life, flexing as it tried to draw her deeper into its maw. Another branch was trying to slide around her waist while a second licked against her neck, and with a scream of fury she thrashed her way free, rolling in the snow until she was covered in it, some of it turning red on her skin. The tree was quavering, shaking off its snow like a dog, leaning for her in a groaning, predatory, hungry way, but she was safely outside of its reach. But it wasn’t the only one – all around her were similar trees, their snow blankets sliding to the ground as they twisted themselves on their bases, reaching out with their tendrils as far as they could stretch.

Oh my god, Jesse whispered, trembling as she watched. Where am I?

Where am I, came her own voice right back to her, like an echo. But it was not an echo. Not at all.