Sean E. Britten

All There in the (Monster) Manual are stories based on creatures from the Dungeons & Dragons Monster Manual. Over 2022 I released a different story fitting the theme every single week and I’ve now expanded to Dungeons & Dragons’ Monsters of the Multiverse and even the Pathfinder Bestiary. Could be fantasy, science fiction, horror, or something else entirely! Check them out on the main page of the website.

This Week’s Inspiration: Treant

They buried Angela’s father beneath the memorial tree, so its roots could feed on his body as it grew and she would always have a way to visit him. But when Angela falls in with the wrong crowd, the tree proves to have more of her father in it than anyone expected.

======

“Well, Jacob, this is my father,” Angela said. “Daddy, this is Jacob.”

Angela dressed nicely, in a prim blue dress that suited an important occasion. By comparison, the young man, Jacob, dressed down in dirty jeans, boots, and a band shirt, but he was clean cut and clean shaven. There wasn’t much about his appearance that a father would likely object to except maybe the proliferation of tattoos up and down his arms and on the side of his neck, including a prominent spider tattooed on the back of his right hand. He slid a sceptical look toward Angela.

The tree before them wasn’t huge, about one and a half times as tall as Jacob himself. As thick as a man’s waist at its widest, its trunk spiralled along its length so it appeared twisted and gnarled. Two uneven branches sprouted and spread from below the bushel of its domed head, all thick with pale, pointed leaves. Roots clawed at the soil underfoot.

“It’s a tree,” Jacob said.

“You know he’s a tree!” Angela blushed. “Sorry, but it’s like I told you, I used to talk to him all the time when I was growing up. I still talk to him, now that mom’s moved with Steve and I’ve moved back into the family home.”

Angela gestured back at the rambling mansion across the yard behind them. Over a hundred years old, the plantation-style home showed signs of its age but it was still a palatial building with looming windows and a wraparound porch. The rest of the property was sprawling and green, bordered by swampy woods on three sides.

“Daddy got diagnosed when I was four. It was really aggressive, he fought it but the cancer took him when I was six,” Angela said. “All my memories of him are when he was sick and getting sicker. He didn’t want to be buried, and he didn’t want to be cremated and just sit on a shelf either, but I think he wanted me to have some way of coming and visiting him. He came up with the idea of being buried under this tree. It’s a thing they can do, they bury the body in this kind of big, seedpod thing, and they plant a small tree over it. As the tree grows, its roots break down the pod, and the body, and it feeds off of it.”

“Not going to lie, babe, that sounds messed up,” Jacob said. “I’m surprised they let you do that in your backyard, you know?”

“Apparently it was, what do they call it? Grandfathered? It was grandfathered because of the family graveyard already being on the property.”

Angela pointed to the fenced area behind the tree. Weeds climbed the rusty ironwork and weathered graves. Outdated names and dates, decades old, were chipped into the stones.

“That’s crazy,” Jacob said.

“Like I say, growing up, I used to come out here and talk to him. Especially for big events, like my birthdays or when mom got remarried, or before I went to college. So, I wanted to talk to him and bring you out to meet him now that we’re moving in together.”

“Nah, babe, that’s really sweet.”

“You really mean it?” Angela’s face beamed.

“Yeah, for sure. Why don’t you, like, give me a minute with your old man so we can talk guy to guy?”

Angela looked thrilled. “You really mean it?”

“Guy to tree, I guess, but yeah, if it means that much to you, I’d like to talk to him. You go back inside and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Okay!”

Angela leaned over and gave Jacob a kiss on the side of the mouth. Excited, she ran back toward the house. He watched the way her dress bounced against her plump backside then turned to the memorial tree again.

“Yeah, so, I guess I just wanted to say thank you, sir,” Jacob said, his tone sincere.

A breeze whispered through the tree’s pale leaves. The day was crisp and bright and blue but a strange tension hung over the old graveyard and its surroundings. To Jacob, the place looked like something from out of a horror movie.

“Thank you for going and getting cancer and dying super early,” Jacob continued. “Made sure that little girl of yours ended up with a fucking pile of daddy issues. Yeah, she’ll do anything for a little bit of approval. I mean anything, I can get her and beg for it like a dog if I want to, you feel me? And thanks for leaving her this super sweet house, yeah. It’s a little fucking old, I mean, kind of a shithole really, but the property is worth a fucking fortune, yeah?”

Jacob glanced back at the house, scanning the windows to make sure Angela wasn’t watching. Wandering closer, he unzipped the fly of his jeans.

“Here, pops, let me give you a little drink.”

With a grunt, Jacob released a stream of urine. It arced against the tree and ran down the bark, pooling at the roots.

“You just remember who Angela’s real daddy is now, and I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.” Jacob laughed and zipped up his jeans.

xXx

Time measured differently for trees. But days passed, nights rose and fell, and Angela and Jacob settled into the house. Soon, there were others as well. Music thundered from behind the walls of the mansion and lights burned in the windows until the early hours of the morning.

Mist still hung between the gravestones and the branches of the memorial tree one morning when Angela stumbled out through the grass in her pyjamas and bathrobe. Her eyes were rimmed in red from crying.

“Jacob and I have been fighting, daddy,” Angela sniffled. “Right after we moved in, a friend of his and his girlfriend needed somewhere to stay. Regan and Lea, he said they would only be here for a week but it’s been a month now and they keep inviting friends of theirs over! It’s making us fight, we never had fights before. Jacob says he’ll talk to them but they’re his friends too and he parties all night with them as well.”

Angela wiped her nose on the sleeve of her robe. The misty morning was still and quiet.

“You’ve always been a good listener, daddy,” Angela laughed weakly. “I feel like I don’t have anyone else to talk to. Mom is busy and all of my friends-, Jacob said they didn’t like him. They kept trying to break us up so I had to stop talking to them.”

Angela went back to the house where the party guests from the night before didn’t wake for several more hours. In spite of her concerns, nothing changed. Music howled until late into the night that evening as well. It was only the grand house’s isolation that kept neighbours from complaining.

A door fell open and two people, a man and a woman, Jacob’s friends Regan and Lea, staggered into the yard. The ember of a vape’s power light glowed at Lea’s lips. Regan sucked dry the last contents of a beer bottle and hurled it ahead of them. It spun past the trunk of the memorial tree and shattered against something in the old graveyard.

“Jacob told me about this shit,” the burly, bearded young man, Regan, said. “They buried Angela’s dad under this shit when she was a kid and the tree fucking ate him as it grew, ain’t that fucked up?”

“I know, she actually talks to it like it’s her dad,” Lea said. “She even wanted Jacob to meet it. Oh daddy, my daddy’s a tree!”

“When did Jacob tell you about it?”

“Oh, I don’t know, whenever.”

“Well, I’ve got some wood for you, baby.”

Grabbing Lea around the waist, Regan picked her up and hauled her around. She struggled but laughed. He dropped her clumsily in the thick grass near the roots of the tree and fell on top of her.

“What are you doing? Stop!” Lea said, laughing.

“Come on, baby doll, it’ll be like a threesome, you, me, and Angela’s daddy!”

“That’s gross!”

“Haven’t you ever wanted to do it in a graveyard?”

“Why the fuck would I ever want that?”

Music and voices drifted from the house. In spite of her protests, Lea submitted and kissed Regan back as he lay on top of her. He pried her legs apart, teasing her through the seat of her jeans.

A cool breeze stirred the grass. Overhead, the tree’s two primary branches creaked. They almost appeared to be reaching for the writhing couple. Lea stiffened and then shoved Regan’s shoulders.

“Stop! No, I mean it, stop!” she said.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s creepy, no, no, it’s creepy, there’s a fucking dead guy down there. And I don’t know, I just feel creeped out, let’s go back inside.”

“Okay, alright.”

Regan and Lea picked themselves up, dusting bits of grass from their clothing. Lea picked a wedgie out of the back of her pants and the two of them retreated to the house. Behind them, the tree’s branches let out another soft, almost imperceptible creak as they settled back into their original position.

xXx

The grass grew long and unkempt except for a trodden path that Angela made between the tree and the house. She visited every few days now that she lived at home. Weeds overtook the old cemetery. While the mansion remained much the same, trash piled up around the back door and several vehicles, a couple of trucks and motorcycles, cluttered the yard around the side of the house.

Angela swept aside more sheafs of grass as she made her way to the tree. Her eyes were red more often than not when she made the journey. Even as she got closer, she sniffled and grew teary and wiped her face on her sleeve.

“More friends of Jacob moved into the house, daddy,” Angela said. “I didn’t want them here, I said they can’t possibly all need help. Regan and Lea haven’t done anything about finding a new place! But he said if I kick them out, he’ll go as well. I can’t lose him, I can’t! I know it’s like he says, I’ll never find anything else who loves me.”

Angela stumbled forward. With a sudden desperation, she wrapped both arms around the trunk of the tree. Her damp face fell against the bark.

“I wish you were here. You know, for real! I’m too embarrassed to talk to anyone else. I only have Jacob, and he just won’t talk to me about, well, anything that makes him angry. He thinks I’m stupid.”

Branches creaked, although the leaves across the top of the tree didn’t rustle. Angela didn’t notice but suddenly broke away. With a whispered word of thanks, she retreated to the house.

That night, the music from the house, shouting, and even shattering glass was louder than ever. Later, after midnight, two of the young men fetched their motorcycles from beside the house and another dozen people poured out the backdoor to watch them race in loops around the property. Wheels tore up clumps of grass and wet dirt, leaving tracks circling the house. The spectators whooped and tossed bottles at the two riders, beer and liquor spilling in midair. Angela wasn’t among them. Instead, her face dawned a couple of times in one of the upstairs windows, eyes wide and scared, trails of tears on her cheeks. Leaves on the memorial tree quivered as if with barely suppressed rage but then went still.

Only a couple of days later, Angela visited again. One hand cupped the side of her face. When she removed her hand, it revealed a black eye and sprawling purple bruise. Her voice hitched.

“I was wrong, I’m sorry, daddy,” Angela said. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to leave you here, he won’t go. His friends won’t go, and he’s cheating on me. I think he and Lea have been sleeping together too. I went into his phone, but when I confronted him about it he hit me!”

Leaves rustled in the treetop. Tears leaked from the swollen slit of Angela’s black eye.

“I’m going to stay with Cousin Mary,” Angela said. “Tomorrow, I’ll try to get the police to come so I can get some of my things and give them an eviction notice. Apparently I can’t just throw them out. But I’ve got to go, I can’t stay anymore. I’m sorry, I’m so stupid, I’m sorry!”

Angela leaned in and impulsively hugged the tree again. Breaking away just as quickly, she covered the side of her face and hurried back toward the house.

xXx

That night, Angela’s departure did nothing to stop the party. Music and noise filled the house and shadows moved behind the glowing windows. From time to time, Jacob himself could be heard chanting or firing up the festivities. Knowing that Angela would be back in the morning, he encouraged his guests to smash up as much of the house as possible.

“Fuck it up, yeah!” Jacob’s voice echoed above the sound of breaking glass. “Yeah, that’ll show that bitch! Fuck it up!”

In the early hours of the morning, only the core group of partygoers remained. Bikes and cars remained piled up by the side of the house. Music filtered through several broken windows. Suddenly, the door that led out of the kitchen clapped open. Jacob’s friend Regan and another young man about the same age staggered across the porch, both visibly drunk.

“I’ve got it, I know what will really fuck her up,” Regan said.

“Who?”

That stuck up bitch Angela, bro! I’ve got it, she loves this fucking tree, bro. I’m telling you, I’ve seen her talking to it and shit. I’ve seen her actually fucking hugging it, bro, she really thinks it’s her dead dad!”

The two of them stumbled away from the house. The night itself was clear and still, the moon almost full. As they got closer, Regan reached into his pocket and pulled out a large folding knife. The blade snapped into place and he waved it toward the trunk of the memorial tree.

“I’ll carve something right into the bark here. Something fucked, just like, fuck you,” Regan said.

“What about a dick?”

“Oh, yeah! That’s a great idea, I’ll cut a big old dick right here in the trunk where she can’t fucking miss it!”

There was no breeze but leaves shivered as the tree’s branches shook. Regan stumbled forward and grabbed the trunk to hold himself up before slamming his knife into the tee. Cutting unnecessarily deep, he began to gouge a straight line through the bark. Suddenly, the ground quaked underfoot.

“Whoa, bro, did you feel that?” Regan said.

“Feel what?”

“I don’t know, it was like-,”

Looking down, Regan trailed off as he realised whatever had happened was, in fact, still happening. Vibrations ran through his feet and up his legs. The ground started to crack apart and dark, writhing shapes moved like snakes under the dirt. Roots, his drunk mind realised too slowly. Roots, but they were animated and ripping themselves free from the soil where they’d been buried for years. Before he could really react to that information, one of them flung free and wrapped itself around his right ankle.

“What the fuck?” Regan yelled.

“What’s going on, brah?”

The other young man jerked forward suddenly as, wood creaking, one of the tree’s branches whipped out and caught his neck in its fork. It yanked him off his feet so hard that one of his sneakers flew free. His body heaved like a man being hung from a noose. Joints popped and crackled. His face began to flush as he clawed helplessly at the bouncing fork. The tree violently thrashed him back down and the man’s neck broke with an audible snap.

“Oh, shit!” Regan said.

Regan ripped his knife free and attacked the root around his ankle. It writhed and readjusted its grip like a woody python. He hacked and sawed but couldn’t get through it. The root tightened and wrenched sideways with inexorable strength. Bones splintered and shattered, his ankle twisting. He screamed and dropped his knife, clutching at the injury with both hands.

With a grinding, ripping tear, the tree pulled the rest of its roots free of the earth that had imprisoned and supported them for the better part of two decades. Those that ran too deep, it snapped and left in the ground. Clods of soil were tossed. Regan screamed. The tree’s root ball spread like tentacles and thick bands of them wrapped around his arms and other leg. They pulled him down as the tree began to march forward. He was sucked under the mass of it and ground into the dirt, flattened, broken to pieces, beneath its weight. The body of the other young man was thrown aside into the grass.

Roots reaching and clawing, the tree pulled itself toward the house. It appeared to gain confidence with every ‘step’. At first, it teetered from side to side as if on the verge of tumbling over. It had never moved like this before, of course. Never moved anywhere since it was first planted. But by the time it reached the house, it was propelling itself along like some kind of strange and giant insect without too much trouble.

The door to the kitchen lay open. Rather than move inside right away, the tree shambled around the side of the house to where the cars and motorbikes were parked. It knocked over two of the bikes without apparent intent and moved to one of the cars instead. One of its lower branches casually smashed the driver’s side window. The end of the branch coiled inside and pressed against the car’s horn, laying into it for several long, loud bursts.

“What the fuck?” someone shouted.

Music still poured out of the house. A side door close to the front of the mansion popped open and three people, two men and a young woman, stormed outside. The larger of the two men stomped toward the car but in the dark, confronted by what appeared to be a nine-foot-tall tree that had suddenly sprouted beside the vehicle, he could only react with confusion.

“What the hell is this?” the young man said.

The three of them drew closer, and the tree lunged. Lurching away from the car, it whipped around and snatched the first guy off his feet with the larger of its two primary branches. Twigs and leaves wound around the man like fingers.

“Hey! What is this?”

The woman grabbed her face and began to scream, a sharp, shrill, dentist drill sound. The tree whirled with its other branch outstretched. The force of the blow was enough to launch her into the air like a catapult. She spun and crashed into the windshield of another vehicle, driving a crater through the glass.

The second young man reeled. The tree snatched him and yanked him past its trunk, into the side of the car behind it. The top of his head landed with enough force to dent the door panel out of place and to break his neck in two, killing him instantly.

“What is this? What the fuck is happening?” the first man said.

The larger man kicked and writhed in the tree’s grasp. Grabbing one of the branches that split from the main limb, he tore it sideways and broke it off near the base. The tree thrashed and then threw him down in pain or disgust. The man hung onto the broken branch as he hit the dirt on his back. Winded, he could only stare at the sky for a few long moments. A splintered stump, shaped like a talon, bristled from the limb where the branch had broken off. As the man lay on the ground, the tree loomed over him, bending through the middle of its trunk, and it drove the fresh and dripping spike down through the man’s eye socket until it reached his brain.

Nobody else emerged from inside. The tree lurched back to the rear of the house then to the open kitchen door. Nine-foot-tall with a span of branches almost as wide, cramming itself inside was no easy feat. Its efforts ripped the door off its hinges and shattered the doorframe. Once inside, its branches and leaves erupted and filled half the kitchen, scraping the ceiling, denting one of the walls. It was an old kitchen with mostly new appliances and drifts of trash covering the benchtops and floor. Pizza boxes, beer cans, and empty bottles.

Music thumped through the wall from an adjoining room. The door swung open and two more people, a man and a woman, stepped inside. Both were drunk and, much like the trio the tree had just killed, their first reaction was understandable confusion.

“What the fuck? How’s there a tree in here?”

“Oh, shit, you see it too?” the girl said.

The tree surged across the kitchen. Roots dug at the linoleum, leaving a trench in the tree’s wake. Its trunk slammed against the kitchen island hard enough to dislodge it from its moorings. Pots and pans, hanging in a row above the island, were knocked and scattered across the room with a clatter. The man and woman didn’t have time to react. One branch lanced forward and the snapped stump caught the side of the young man’s throat. Blood sprayed the side of the doorway they’d just entered through. He spun around, gasping wetly, blood filling his mouth as well. The other branch lashed out and caught the woman, slamming her into the refrigerator. She fell to the floor right in front of the silver appliance. The tree grabbed the top of the fridge and pulled it away from the wall. It tipped, plug ripping free from its outlet, and came crashing down on top of her.

Blood spurting through his fingers, the wounded man staggered back through the doorway. The tree followed, taking part of the wall with it. The next room was a living space in the shape of an ‘L’, bordered by couches, with more garbage covering the floor. Music thundered from a sound system to one side. The bleeding man stumbled and collapsed. Another half a dozen faces stared at the tree in confusion. None of them were Angela’s boyfriend, Jacob.

Upstairs, Jacob had slipped away with Lea the moment Regan headed outside. Angela’s old bedroom still had her music posters on the wall and stuffed animals lined up on the shelves. Shirtless, his upper body covered in tattoos, Jacob rolled around on top of Lea, hurrying through any attempts at foreplay to make the most of the time they had. The music from downstairs blocked out most other sounds but suddenly his head pulled back.

“Did you hear that?” Jacob said.

“Hear what, baby?”

“Screaming, it sounded like screaming.”

“What? That’s crazy!”

“I’m telling you, bitch, I heard something.” 

Pulling a t-shirt back over his head, Jacob moved to the doorway. He peered into the hallway with Lea following. Something made a smashing noise downstairs. There was what might have been another scream hidden under the music.

“Fine, whatever.” Lea brushed past him, pulling down her skirt.

“Hang on a second.”

The two of them moved down the hall toward the nearest set of stairs. Other than the music, everything seemed to have fallen silent again. Jacob hesitated halfway down the steps while Lea stomped ahead.

Suddenly, something huge and bushy and clumsy crashed through the corridor below. A side table was flipped, shattering an upturned vase as it hit the ground. Jacob, after a moment of absolute disbelief, recognised it as a tree. He recognised it, in fact, as the memorial tree, the one that had grown from the weird coffin of Angela’s father. Come to life and rampaging through the house on top of its snaking roots.

One of the tree’s branches lashed out and caught Lea as she gaped at the bottom of the stairs. The impact broke her neck, killing her instantly. Her lifeless body hit the wall and rebounded, falling and folding up on itself like a doll.

“Oh, no fucking way!” Jacob said. “No fucking way!”

The tree crashed onto the stairs and surged toward Jacob. He realised immediately and instinctively why it wanted him. He reversed and sprinted back the way he’d come. The tree smashed up the stairwell behind him, snapping off a section of railing.

Jacob returned to Angela’s room but then hesitated. He didn’t want to get trapped. Instead, he continued along the corridor past other bedrooms and bathrooms and closets. There was another set of stairs at the far end of the house. He ran down the steps in the dark, groping at the wall. He felt for his phone but his pocket was empty and he realised he’d left it in the bedroom.

Another bang echoed through the house. At the bottom of the stairs was a door leading into the mansion’s garage. Dust and mildew filled Jacob’s nostrils as he pushed his way inside. He found a lightswitch on the wall and flicked it on, filling the garage with weak light. It was a big room, built as an addition onto the original house, but there was no room for cars. The garage had been used for decades as a storage space for a maze of old furniture and building materials. Workbenches were crowded with tools and paint cans. Propped beside one of them, Jacob’s eyes fell on an old axe, its blade brown with rust.

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” Jacob grabbed the axe and turned it in his hands.

The garage door was attached to an ancient-looking motor. Jacob hit another switch on the wall and the door slowly levered upright. He debated whether to simply make a run for the road or to circle the house toward the cars and bikes, and find one of them to take. Angela’s family was in the middle of nowhere, and surrounded by trees, so he decided to go for one of the vehicles.

In spite of the insanity of the situation, Jacob’s mind felt shockingly lucid. He had discerned what was happening quickly. Clearly the tree was possessed by the spirit or will or soul or whatever of Angela’s dead father after having fed on his mouldering corpse for eighteen years, and he had come back to seek revenge for the way Jacob and the others had treated his daughter. He didn’t see much point in questioning how such a thing was possible when it seemed immediately obvious that it was happening regardless. However, he didn’t know if the other trees could be trusted or whether they might also be mobile and malicious. Whether they might be allied with the memorial tree. Breathing hard, he rounded the front of the house. Bare feet combed through the grass. On the back of his right hand, the tattooed spider’s legs stretched as his fist tightened around the handle of the axe. Music thumped from inside the house. From where he was, he could see a broken window with a body crumpled beneath it. He didn’t know where in the house the tree had gone but hoped it had followed him up the stairs and got stuck somewhere along the second story hallway.

A pair of heavy wooden doors marked the main entrance of the old home. As Jacob passed, they exploded open. The tree’s bushy head forced its way through the doorway like a battering ram. It pulled itself forward with its ball of clawing roots, shattering the porch underneath it. With surprising speed, it staggered down the front steps. Caught flat footed, Jacob hesitated too long in the middle of the yard.

“Oh, shit!” Jacob said. “Okay, motherfucker, okay!”

Instead of running, Jacob pounced inside the tree’s range with his axe raised. A branch swung as the tree spun but he managed to duck it. Heaving around with the axe, he slammed its blade into the tree’s trunk. Tremors of impact ran up his arms. It gouged the bark but didn’t penetrate too deeply. He continued to circle using his superior speed and wild abandon to hack at the tree’s trunk and branches.

“Timber, bitch!” Jacob yelled. “You fucking thought?”

Leaves hissed through the air as the tree whipped around. Jacob ducked and raised the axe over his head. He brought it down as hard as he could and cleaved away a section of trunk the size of a dinner plate.

Ivory contours caught the moonlight. Inside the tree, exposed by the slice, was a human skull. Most of it remained buried in wood but Jacob could make out eye sockets filled with wooden rings, nostrils, and a broken row of teeth. Even knowing the tree had fed off the body of Angela’s father, Jacob was stunned. Something about the additional impossibility of the skull existing inside the trunk just brought the whole thing crashing down on his head.

The tree slammed forward, catching Jacob by surprise. One of its branches snatched the axe out of his hand and sent it spiralling across the yard. Its truck lashed forward in what was almost a headbutting motion. The section of hewn trunk with the skull buried inside it slammed against Jacob’s forehead. He was flung backward, blood immediately sleeting down his face. Landing on his backside, he scooted away and held up his hands in a gesture pleading for mercy.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, man! Sir! I’m sorry I pissed on you, I’m sorry about Angela! Don’t hurt me, I’ll go! I’ll just go! Please!”

The tree loomed. Branches stretched toward the young man on the ground and scooped him up as he screamed.

xXx

Two deputies from the local sheriff’s office accompanied Angela and her cousin to the house the next morning. They were on the property for less than a minute before retreating to the end of the driveway. Try as they might, the deputies couldn’t hide how shaken they were when they got on the radio and started pleading for backup.

Cops, FBI, and forensic investigators combed through the human wreckage for days. So many dead, but the causes were bizarre. Blunt force trauma or impalements with an unfamiliar object, not gunshots or blades. Not to mention the damage throughout the house. It almost looked like some kind of animal attack. Given there were a few minor amounts of drugs found on the property and in one of the cars, the prevailing theory became that the partygoers had upset some passing gang of bikers or other criminals but none were formally identified. Only one of the apparent witnesses couldn’t be accounted for, one Jacob Smalls, the homeowner’s boyfriend.

After enduring hours of interrogation and days of uncertainty, Angela was allowed to return to the home. While she couldn’t stay there until the investigation was complete, she was allowed to walk around outside the house and collect a few things inside under escort. Naturally, the first thing Angela wanted to do was check on her father’s tree in the backyard though. That she was allowed to do on her own.

“Oh, daddy, what did they do to you?”

Two bodies had been found in the vicinity of the tree. Regan had been one of them, in an absolutely mangled condition. Given Jacob had disappeared, some of the police thought he might be responsible rather than a possibly imaginary biker gang. But regardless of the way he’d treated her, Angela didn’t think Jacob could be capable of that kind of violence. With all the bodies though, police hadn’t paid much attention to the tree. Angela could see right away that it had been attacked for reasons she struggled to fathom. Branches had been bent and broken, their leaves ragged. Several gouges had been taken out of its trunk, axe wounds. One plate-sized section appeared to have been hacked off and then, even more curiously, pasted back on with sap.

“What happened here? Did they try to dig you up?”

The ground around the base of the tree had been massively disrupted. Mounds of loose dirt covered the surrounding grass. Some of the tree’s roots had been exposed.

Angela wondered if the police might let her get some garden tools to properly fix things. Unable to look at the exposed roots a moment longer though, she got on her hands and knees and started sweeping dirt back over them before packing it down. She was at it for a couple of minutes before her hand brushed something cold and fleshy.

For a moment, Angela mistook it for some kind of fungus. Then, she noticed the tendrils branching from the main body had joints and ended in fingernails. Looking closer, she recognised the spider tattoo covering the back of the hand. Its wrist jutted out of the dirt, the rest of the arm, and presumably body, buried beneath the roots of the memorial tree.

After considering it for a few silent moments, her face neutral, Angela brushed dirt back over the hand and did her best to bury it again before standing. She wiped the soil from her clothing. Finally, she leaned toward the tree and gave it a brief kiss on the side of the trunk.

“Thank you, daddy.”

======

Sean: Another entry into my personal genre of ‘Things That Shouldn’t be Alive Getting Up and Moving and Trying to Kill People’. I’ve done it with statues, I did it with a tattoo, I’ve done it with a severed hand, I’ve done it with statues again. There’s probably more examples to be honest, I didn’t even realise it was a thing I was doing until I finished this one. Kind of makes me feel like Stephen King in that ‘Lamp Monster’ bit on Family Guy. Hmm… a lamp monster you say…

This is story NINETY-NINE to make it to the website! I’ve been working on a bunch of stories for next year under a new theme, but I want to release one more to make it an even one hundred before the end of the year. And thanks to my brand new website design, you can browse through all those older stories much easier than ever before! I’m actually really pleased with how it’s looking but drop me a line if you notice anything that looks messed up, I’d appreciate it!