The Hollow Tree.
1038 Words
The forest stretched like an ancient, breathing creature before Eleanor and Victor. Gnarled branches clawed at the gray sky, and a sickly light filtered through the twisted canopy. They followed the map from Margot’s journal, every step toward the hollow tree sending a chill up Eleanor’s spine. The Watchers had gone quiet—for now—but she could feel them, watching from between the trees, waiting.
“I remember this place,” Eleanor murmured, eyes darting around. “From when I was a kid… I used to have dreams about it.”
Victor gave her a sharp glance. “Dreams?”
She nodded slowly. “Always the same. I was running through this forest, barefoot. Something was chasing me. I’d reach a tree—massive, split in the middle like a screaming mouth. Then I’d wake up.”
Victor said nothing, but his hand tightened around the flashlight.
They moved in silence for nearly an hour, the map guiding them deeper into the thicket. The air grew heavier, and the sounds of birds and insects vanished. Just before dusk, they found it.
The Hollow Tree.
It loomed, taller than the rest, its bark blackened with age. The center split was wide enough to crawl through, and inside, a faint blue glow pulsed like a heartbeat.
Eleanor stepped forward, then froze.
Voices.
Laughter.
Teenage voices—sharp, hot-blooded, full of that invincible recklessness only high schoolers could carry. She turned to Victor, confused, but he looked just as stunned.
“Do you hear that?” she whispered.
Then she saw them.
A group of teenagers—ghostly, translucent—walking through the woods, laughing, pushing one another, filming with an old phone. One of the boys held up a lighter and pointed to the tree.
“Bet you can’t last a minute inside!” he challenged.
A girl stepped forward—slim, with auburn hair and a bold smile. She looked… familiar.
The ghost scene shimmered like heatwaves.
“Is that… me?” Eleanor whispered.
She watched the younger version of herself grin, give the middle finger, and step into the tree.
Everything froze.
Then came the screams.
The others outside shouted her name, their faces contorted in horror. But inside the tree—Eleanor could hear something else. A sound like tearing paper. A voice chanting.
“You were never here.”
The vision vanished.
Eleanor staggered back, heart pounding. Victor caught her.
“That was you,” he said, stunned. “You were here. You’ve been here before.”
She nodded slowly. “I was one of the Forgotten… But somehow, I came back.”
Victor opened Margot’s journal again, flipping past the pages until he found a passage:
“There are rare cases. Children who slip too close to the Veil but are pulled back—those the Watchers mark for later. They return… different. With fragments of memory. But they are never truly free.”
Eleanor sat at the base of the tree, everything crashing into her. Her entire life had been a lie. Her fear of abandonment. Her mother’s disappearance. The foggy parts of her childhood. All tied to Ravenwell. To the tree. To the Watchers.
And then it hit her—
The spiral wasn’t just a warning.
It was a seal. A memory lock.
Someone—her mother—had sealed her memories. Hidden the truth to protect her. But now that seal was breaking.
Suddenly, the blue glow intensified.
The tree’s core split wider, revealing a path spiraling downward, made of roots and shadow. Eleanor rose, steadying herself.
“I’m going in,” she said.
Victor grabbed her arm. “If you go down there, you may not come back.”
She looked into the darkness. “I already left once. Maybe going back is the only way I get to stay.”
He hesitated. Then nodded.
“Let me come with you.”
“No,” she said. “If I don’t come back in an hour… seal it. Burn it down.”
Before he could argue, she stepped into the Hollow Tree.
---
The descent was dizzying. The path coiled like a spiral staircase made of bark and bone. Whispered voices brushed past her ears—names, memories, regrets. She saw flashes of her childhood. Her mother’s face. Her own teenage tears in a hospital room. A boy’s hand brushing hers—someone she once loved and lost.
A tragedy buried beneath layers of forgotten time.
Eleanor reached the bottom. A chamber of mist. Shapes floated—frozen people, like statues made of fog. Their eyes open, their mouths still whispering the last words they ever spoke.
And in the center: Margot Voss.
Alive. But not moving.
Eleanor ran to her.
“Mom…”
Margot’s eyes flickered. Recognition. Fear.
“They’re coming,” she croaked. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I came for you,” Eleanor said, gripping her hand.
A tremor shook the chamber. The Watchers were stirring.
Margot pulled her daughter close. “There’s a way out. A second chance. But it comes with a price.”
The chamber began to unravel. The spirals on the walls lit up. Shadows poured from them.
“I don’t care about the price!” Eleanor shouted. “I just want you back!”
Margot touched her forehead. A flash of light. And suddenly, everything changed.
The chamber collapsed.
---
Eleanor woke up on the floor of the crypt.
Gasping. Alone.
The journal was gone.
Victor burst in, helping her to her feet. “You were gone for two days!”
She looked around wildly. “My mom—she was there! I brought her out—I…”
Then she stopped.
Behind Victor, standing in the doorway, was a woman with auburn hair, watching quietly.
Margot Voss.
But she was younger. Stronger. Like she had been pulled from the edge of death and given a second chance at life.
Eleanor rushed into her arms, and for the first time in years, she felt real.
She was remembered.
But far away, deep in the forest, the Hollow Tree still pulsed. The Watchers still waited.
And the price of a second chance… was yet to be paid.
To be continued…
- Writer
