By winter, Alderbridge was unrecognisable. Ivy swallowed buildings, trees cracked pavement, and the marsh spread until it lapped at the edges of town. Power failed, and the silence that followed was thick and alive.The Green Man no longer hid. He walked the streets at dawn, his footsteps soft, leaving trails of moss behind. Those who saw him did not scream. They simply watched, tears streaming down their faces, a look of terrible peace settling over them.
I watched neighbours step into the forest willingly, guided by whispers I knew all too well. They vanished among the trees, and within days, new growth erupted where they had last stood: saplings, flowers, rich and green.
My own transformation accelerated. My hair thinned, replaced by fine strands that felt more like grass. My fingers stiffened, joints creaking like old wood. Pain flared and faded, replaced by a deep, grounding calm.
I understood now. The Green Man was harvesting us, returning what we had taken. The town had grown on stolen land, fed by poisoned rivers and stripped forests. We were never meant to last.
In a final act of defiance, I tried to burn the clearing. The flames caught briefly, then sputtered and died, smothered by sudden rain. The Green Man stood untouched, watching me with infinite patience.
“You cannot undo remembering,” he said.
Source: Some or all of the content was generated using an AI language model
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