I tried to leave Alderbridge. I packed my bags and drove towards the highway, only to find the road flooded, the detour blocked by fallen trees. Each attempt ended the same way, with me circling back into town, my fuel inexplicably low, my phone dead.Others were not so fortunate.
People began to disappear. A jogger vanished on the forest trail. A teenager was last seen near the marsh, his bike found tangled in reeds, vines wrapped around the frame. The police searched and found nothing, but the woods seemed thicker, denser, as if fed.
I noticed changes in myself. My skin itched constantly, especially at night. Small greenish veins appeared along my arms, branching like roots beneath the surface. I felt drawn to sunlight and rain, standing outside for hours without realising it, breathing in the damp air like nourishment.
The whispers grew louder.
“Join,” they urged.
I returned to the clearing, compelled by a force I could no longer resist. The Green Man waited for me, his smile wider, his eyes brighter. He reached out, his touch cool and rough, and where his fingers brushed my arm, something stirred beneath my skin.
“We remember you,” he said. “You were always part of this.”
I tried to scream, but my throat filled with the taste of earth. Visions assaulted me: bodies sinking into soil, bones feeding roots, lives returning to green silence. I understood then that the Green Man was not a single being, but a memory, a guardian born of neglect and destruction. He rose when the balance tipped too far.
I fled the forest, tearing through branches, my heart racing. But even as I ran, I felt something anchoring me, pulling downward.
That night, I dreamed of sinking roots.
Source: Some or all of the content was generated using an AI language model
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