We arrived at a clearing, and just like that, the oppressive feeling of being watched vanished. It was… beautiful. Too beautiful to have been left in seclusion. That was the instant thought that struck Sebastian the moment his gaze landed on it.
Sebastian's eyes scanned the area, eventually settling on the most conspicuous feature: a tree.
Crooked, twisted, its trunk curling like a living serpent, spiraling upward until its canopy hovered so low it nearly kissed the ground, bowing submissively as if it were some obedient maid paying tribute to the clearing.
The clearing itself was roughly circular, though the edges were jagged, uneven, as though nature had lost interest halfway through sketching it. The center held a small island of light, surrounded by the soft, dappled shadows of the surrounding trees. Those trees leaned outward slightly, as if attempting to flee the clearing—an impossible feat, given their roots anchored them stubbornly in place.
Wildflowers and scattered leaves dotted the ground, though surprisingly few for a supposedly unkempt area. Almost like someone was maintaining it… but who in their right mind would clean fallen leaves in a forest? He wondered.
Sebastian's gaze returned to the central tree. Its shape was strange, almost deliberate.
Do trees normally grow like that… or was it forced? his thoughts spiraled into increasingly paranoid theories.
"Alright," he muttered under his breath. "What's the story of this place? Someone died, right? Something gruesome?" He glanced at Chloe for confirmation.
She looked… stunned. Or was it awe? Not at the question, but at the place itself.
Wait—were they the first people to actually set foot in this eerie abode?
Fuck… seems like they were the beta testers of this forest.
He decided to ask again, hoping his assumption was wrong. Surely someone else had been here before them, and they had survived intact.
"Chloe," he tried again, cautiously stepping forward. "Are we the first ones here?"
A slow smile spread across her face before she spun toward him.
"Your job," she said, almost ceremoniously, "is to stand there and watch for anything unusual."
"Unusual? Hmph. You're one to talk—literally the embodiment of unusual."
She ignored him, continuing with her explanation.
"And to answer your first question—YES, someone died here. Violently, of course," she said, a smile curling on her lips. "A serial rapist killed one of his victims here. That's the story people tell about this place."
Sebastian gulped audibly. "Bro, why are you smiling? Like… shouldn't you be showing, I don't know, sadness? Or pity for the girl?"
She paused, her gaze piercing into his. "I see. I'll keep my mouth shut," she said, then smiled again.
"The facts about her death aren't public, but ghost fanatics know this spot. According to the website, a price had been placed on any proof you could get from the place—photos or artifacts could fetch a lot of money."
"How recent? And how much?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed.
She sat down cross-legged, pulling out a sketchbook from God-knows-where, scribbling while snapping casual photos.
"Mm… three years ago, maybe. Then a company bought the whole reserve. The fanatics didn't care until the area was cordoned off last year. I'm guessing you figured that out when you climbed the barricades."
She shut the sketchbook and tucked it away neatly.
"So… you're in it for the money?" he asked, suspiciously.
"No… just interested in strange places," she replied casually. Just interested, she said. Sebastian internally screamed: Fuck… am I with a potential serial killer?
He noticed she wasn't drawing anymore, which confused him. Though he wasn't an artist, that was way too fast.
"You done?" he asked, frowning. "You drew that fast? Let me see."
"No." She stated flatly, walking into the clearing while taking out a camera to photograph the tree from multiple angles.
"Why not?" Sebastian followed, asking, "Just a glimpse will suffice."
She shot him a dirty look, stopping him mid-step, then continued photographing. She crouched by a lone flower near the tree, tilting it at different angles, nodding thoughtfully. Then, she produced a small shovel and container.
Sebastian blinked. "Where did those even come from?" he asked, crouching beside her.
"Watch the surroundings," she said flatly. "I need to harvest this flower."
"Sure," he replied, standing back, resuming full alert mode.
This was immediately interrupted by a frustrated curse.
"Fuck! How does a flower have such stubborn roots?" she swore.
Sebastian glanced at the base of the plant. The roots were deep. Very deep.
"Some flowers have deep roots," he offered. "Sunflowers can go 5–10 feet down. Just cut above the stem. No need to excavate half the forest. The organization that owns this place probably has rules against—"
"I told you!" she snapped, sitting back, exhausted. "I want it alive for now, okay?"
"Do you have shears?" he asked. She nodded.
He held out his hand. "Hand them over."
Reluctantly, she passed them. He lined up the shears for a clean cut—
"Wait!" Chloe frantically waved.
"What now?" he groaned. He wanted this done and over with. God knows what could be waiting in the forest.
An interesting thought invaded his mind. Had whatever creepy presence he felt earlier not noticed them enter… or was this place…
"I want the whole plant. To pot, you fool!" she screamed, high-pitched, snapping him out of thought.
He stared at her like a teacher staring at a self-proclaimed genius who thought 1 + 1 = 11.
"Is your brain like a bag of Walker's Crisps? Obviously inflated but empty! If you want to grow the bloody flower, cut a piece and replant it. Did they not teach you that in school?"
She glared. "Who are you calling a bag of crisps? You're the airhead. I told you—I want the whole thing for aesthetic photos. And look at where you were about to cut it, you donkey! You'd ruin all the pretty parts!"
She grabbed the shears herself and tried to cut from the roots. The roots didn't budge.
"The roots are… pretty," she said, exhausted.
"What the fuck? Those things look creepy as hell! What twisted sense of beauty is this?" he asked, bewildered.
She huffed, then turned to him with pleading eyes. "Mind helping?"
He sighed, rolling up his sleeves.
He attempted again. Nothing. Not even a dent.
Chloe erupted into heavy laughter, switching from pitiful to full-blown mockery. His pride sank like a stone.
"They're blunt," he muttered.
"Yes… too blunt," she wheezed between laughs.
"They're new," she added casually.
Sebastian straightened. "Enough humiliation. Let's go. This plant isn't normal—it might be specially planted. And this place… gives me goosebumps. Listen: no birds, no crickets… nothing."
He had noticed it earlier but only now realized its significance.
Chloe paused, finally catching it too.
She brushed off her clothes and packed up. "Don't panic, wimp. I read insects avoid areas with large temperature differences. And look around—almost no vegetation. That could be why."
She finished packing and headed out. Sebastian followed closely. Pride be damned.
They reached the barricade and climbed over, pushing through the shrubs—only to step into another breathtaking clearing.
"Wow," Chloe breathed.
Another tree. Another impossibly perfect circle. Another too-beautiful, too-quiet space.
Seb frowned. "Why does that tree look exactly like the other one?"
"Maybe the organization made multiple clearings like this," Chloe suggested casually.
He turned to leave—but she tugged on his arm.
"What now? Don't tell me you want to draw again. If you do, I swear I'll slap you unconscious, tie you up, and drag you out. Forget the law."
She glared, pointing to the ground.
The flower. The disturbed soil.
Sebastian's blood ran cold. He rushed to the far side of the clearing. Same tree. Same flower. Same horrifying stillness.
He grabbed Chloe's wrist, dragging her toward the barricade, hoping desperately this was just a coincidence.
They turned left, pushing through thick brush—
Another clearing. Same tree. Same flower. Same deathly stillness.
Chloe's voice shook slightly. "Seb… it seems something is wrong."
"Wrong? Something is wrong?!"
He threw his hands up dramatically.
"Wrong, your grandmother! May your rice forever be slightly undercooked!" 🍚
Following the outburst, he sank to the ground in defeat, almost on the verge of tears.
He was so hungry.