Donna breathed in fresh summer air. She coughed a little, having inhaled the pollen pumped into the air by the trees. It mattered little to the girl. She wanted to climb the trees anyway, as any ten year old would want. The run from the house to the tree was a relatively short one. The towering maple tree in full bloom offered plenty of shade to guard against the blazing sun, and plenty of low branches to get a good climb started.
Ignoring the swing hung from crooked branches, She stepped into the joint where the branch met the trunk as her starting point. The dark brown bark flaked and scraped against her hands, but easy-to-reach branches were all the more inviting. The first ten feet were a cinch. The view from where she stood, she could see her father breaking out the lawn mower. It would not be a welcome addition to the ambience of the tree, which was teeming with life. Chirping birds stopped their song and chittering squirrels skittered into the tree as the lawn mower tried to start up. Father pulled the cord with gusto, trying to get the engine started. Third time was a charm, and he proceeded to trim the yard. He was already rubbing his eyes, either from the sweat running into his them or the pollen already stinging them. Watching him move his hat so that he could wipe his eyes with the back of his wrist prompted Donna to rub at her own itchy eyes. She chose to ignore the itch and continue climbing up.
Seventeen feet up, she found another resting spot with an excellent vantage point. She looked down at her neighbors, jogging alongside each other. The male of the couple stopped to catch his breath and rub his red eyes. The female of the couple looked impatient. Next thing she knew, Donna witnessed as the man suddenly attacked his mate. The woman screamed as she fell underneath him, and he tore at her face and throat with his bare hands.
Donna covered her mouth in shock. Was he sick before or did his allergies make him violent?
A squirrel came out of his hole in the tree and stood on a nearby branch, staring with black eyes at Donna with a stillness that was disturbing. The girl reached for the squirrel, which made the squirrel twitch and turn away from her, ready to bolt. The branch itself raised, causing the squirrel to grip tighter with its claws. Smaller limbs reached for it, yearning for the small animal, and wrapped around the squirrel’s tail. Donna watched in horror as the branches pulled the squirrel’s tail, dragging it toward the trunk. She leapt forward and tried to help the squirrel, but the animal did not recognize her motive and bit her. Sharp buck teeth puncture through the soft skin between Donna’s thumb and index finger. She quickly pulled her hand away, wincing, before checking her wound. Beads of blood started to form. She drew a hissing breath between her teeth to express her pain.
When she looked back up, the squirrel was gone.
The only sign that there had ever been a living creature was the bloody stain on the trunk, small bits of meat and fur clinging to the bark.
Donna held her bleeding hand in a way that she thought would slow the bleeding. The limbs that dragged at the squirrel slowly went back to their original position. It was easy to blame the breeze blowing through the trees for the movement of the limbs and it’s leaves.
She finally sat on the branch she perched on, blinking tears from her itchy eyes. Did the tree just eat a squirrel? No, that can’t be it, trees don’t eat squirrels.
Donna took a few deep breaths and continued her climb.
Twenty four feet up provided a new vantage point on the other side of the tree. Bright red leaves brushed against her skin. She expected a soft touch, but there were inexplicable thorns, and they scraped at her maliciously. Her face and arms covered in light scratches. The flesh around them began to swell.
She wiped the allergy tears from her eyes, and sniffled back the tears spurred on by mourning the squirrel. A stinging sensation accompanied the itch, but she looked down at the people living their lives below. The sight of her father sprinting across the street raised questions. Her eyes followed the man as he bolted under the tree. In his trajectory was a small girl playing with dolls in the front yard of her house. He wouldn’t. No, he was a loving man. Why would he be running for the girl?
To Donna’s shock and surprise, her father ran at full tilt at the girl and crashed violently into her. She laid on the ground, crying, and he turned around and jumped on her, rending at the girl’s face and throat with his bare hands, his eyes red.
Donna stifled her scream, muffling her mouth with her hand. Tears leaked from her eyes, running streaks through the dirt on her face. If that was what he did to a random neighbor’s little girl, what was he going to do to his own daughter? Would the relation even make a difference?
Donna hadn’t noticed a branch reaching for her while she watched her father murder and mutilate the neighbor’s child. The thorns dug into her leg, and she let out a yelp when they scratched and pulled at her, threatening to pull her off the branch she sat on. She yanked her foot out of the invasive branch. Since when do Maple trees have thorns? She winced at the fresh wounds on her leg, which were already swelling. Maybe it was time to go back down to the ground. The breeze turned into a howling wind, and the branches rustled. Several branches reached for her now, promising hurt with several methods. Donna had trouble finding foot holds in the tree that was out of reach of the red-leafed branches, and they grasped at her wrist and throat.
The scratches deepened. She could feel her throat beginning to swell, slowly choking out her blood flow and air supply. Surprisingly, the tree leaned with the wind, grasping at her arms and legs. She couldn’t shake the the branches off anymore, so she held fast one of the stationary branches. Slowly, the tree dragged her towards its trunk. She saw below her the red stain from the squirrel. She had the feeling the that she was next.
Donna’s grip faltered on the stationary branch, and she felt the tree pull her into it. She propped a foot up against the trunk to try and fight back, but she felt the bark eat at her shoe. She howled as her foot up to the ankle was next. Birds flew away at the disturbance. She put up her hand to support herself against the tree trunk, not realizing that her hand was next on the chopping block. The bark shifted and parted, revealing red flesh beneath the bark, strings of muscle lined with teeth. She screamed for help, but expected no one to come, since they were too busy killing each other.
Soon enough, all that was left of Donna was a shirt and a shoe.
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