A Dog and Zebra Show

by bluemoon1996

Watch what Trees you Pee on (edited)

Looking around the small wooded clearing, James sighed as he slipped the straps of his heavy backpack off his shoulders, letting his pack fall to the ground with a loud clatter. “Damn, it's good to get that off,” he sighed, rubbing his shoulder, “I swear you packed mine with more crap didn't you?” He turned about to face his traveling companion.

“I’ll neither confirm or deny your claims,” Andy-Rae said, sliding his own pack off and relishing the freedom with a roll of his shoulders. “You’re the one who let me do the packing.”

“I let you do it because you kept nagging that I was doing it wrong,” he retorted flatly as he walked up to an imposing oak in the middle of the clearing. Giving it a quick kick with his hiking boot, he turned about to look around the clearing. “I wonder how old this thing is?” he idly muttered as he looked up at it’s many long, twisting, mossy branches.

“I’m not a botanist. So… old old?” Andy-Rae half looked up from unpacking his sleeping bag. “Looks cool though. In the… old and twisted way. That part there almost looks like a face.”

Looking at where he pointed, James stared at it for a second before he saw it too. On the ground, between two of the oak’s gnarled roots, was a darkened gap that almost seemed to be a mouth with two knots in the trunk acting as eyes. “Well, if that isn’t fucking creepy,” he said, taking a few steps back.

“It’s a marvel of nature, stop trying to make it something from your video games,” Andy-Rae said, rolling his eyes and poking around for a soft spot in the grass to set up his tent. “If anything your pasty ass is the creepy one.”

“Hey!” James pouted, “We’re in Scotland, Andy; You’re the exception here not me. My pale complexion is a boon! I can hide in plain sight while you stick out like a sore thumb.” With a small smirk and a chuckle, he started to do the same; Getting down on his hands and knees to feel around for a soft spot in the grass.

“Not gonna lie, it’s been weird being here,” Andy-Rae admitted, finally settling on a spot for himself. “The grass, moss and stuff here is really soft though. Good pick.”

James smirked at that, “I can pick ‘em well can't I?” As he said that, he found a spot of decent enough softness. Standing up, he tossed aside a rock that was sitting in the middle of the spot he had chosen. “Well, let’s get our tents pitched and I’ll get the wood for a fire ready.”

“And then… I shall cook! I shall cook like no other camper in this grove has cooked before!” Andy-Rae said grandly, brandishing a tent stake and laughing maniacally. He stopped when he ran out of air and had a fit of coughing.

James just stared back at him blandly for a second before letting out a chuckle as he grabbed his bag and brought it over to the spot he'd picked.

Tents went up quickly and low hanging branches broken off of the large oak and other various trees as the sun began to dip below the horizon. The grove was cast into shadows and soon the warm glow of a fire filled the area by the two tents.

“Well, this place looks a million times creepier in the dark,” James stated flatly. The trees seemed to loom over them as if silently judging them.

“It’s a forest. Lit by campfire. It’s gonna look creepy.” Andy-Rae was less impressed by the creepiness factor, having just accepted it as a fact.

“I know that man,” he said, looking out into the dark before staring up into the crown of the old oak. “I just can't shake it dude. Like someone's watching us.” Looking over at his bag, he grabbed it and plopped it down in front of him as he started to dig inside the bag.

“Birds. Bugs. Maybe a bunny,” Andy-Rae said distractedly as he poked at the flames with a stick. The trash from the meal were in a loose, slightly scattered pile out of spark and ember reach. “Pretty sure there aren’t wolves or stuff like that around. You’re just being paranoid.”

“Early bird gets the worm but the early worm gets eaten,” He muttered to himself in response as he pulled out a small metallic flask from his bag. Opening it, he took a swig, letting out a cough as its contents burned down his throat.

“And does that make you the worm or the bird?” Andy-Rae asked casually. “Owl City has a song about that.”

“What the hell does that eve-” He stopped mid-word, shaking his head as he dismissed the thought. “You know what,” He stated after taking another drag from the flask, “I can't help I don't trust creepy places. Blame my Momma if you want but better to be overly cautious than not cautious enough.” As if to accentuate the point, he glanced back over his shoulder into the darkness.

“Last I checked I, we, didn’t live in a horror movie.” Andy-Rae got up and brushed the seat of his pants off before heading off to the edge of the clearing. “And if we did, you drinking would be a flag.”

“Oh, can it. If you didn't expect to at least buy some manner of booze in bloody Scotland; you don’t know me well enough,” James scoffed as he watched his friend walk off, a shit-eating grin growing on his face. “Besides, you're the black guy. I'm sorry to say but if we were in one, your days are numbered.”

“I’m just taking a leak,” Andy-Rae said, waving his hand dismissively.

“And that's two strikes! Wanna go for three? Perhaps a widowmaker’ll get you?” He laughed in response as he took another swig.

Andy-Rae changed direction with a groan and went to the old oak rather than a tree further away from their camp. “Fine, happy now?” he called over his shoulder as he did his business, continuing in a slightly exasperated tone. “Should be glad I don’t piss on your tent…”

“Relax Andie, I'm just yanking your chain,” James replied with a chuckle to himself. “Now get back here before that face you saw on the tree eats you.”

“Yes. The old angry oak tree is gonna get angrier because some human dude peed on it. How dare a human dude pee on it’s face,” Andy-Rae said in a deadpan tone as the stream tapered off. “Particularly after the other human dude broke off so many of it’s precious and coveted branches only to set them on fire before it in some perverse form of mockery.”

After a few seconds of silence, James broke out into a fit of laugher. “Talk...talk about adding insult to injury,” he said once he managed to compose himself. “Now come on and get back over here.”

Andy-Rae washed up with a few squirts from the small bottle of hand sanitizer he had clipped to his waist. “Why’d you even suggest a cross country hike if camping spooks you so much?” he asked as he returned to the fire.

“Camping doesn't spook me,” James shot back quickly, “it's just… I don't know why but it's this place? It almost seems like it doesn't want us here….” His sentence trailed off as he looked around into the dark, squinting his eyes as if that would somehow help him.

“Kinda like using the woman’s washroom when the male’s is filled?” Andy-Rae offered. “Or sneaking into an employee’s only area? The willies?”

“A little of all three mixed with being glared at by a crowd of people…. I don't like it,” he said, taking a rather large gulp of his alcohol.

Andy-Rae shrugged. They were in the middle of the Scottish countryside camping out in a secluded grove a long way from home. The night wasn’t the brightest, so between the campfire and the irregular wind shuffling branches and shrubbery around the clearing they claimed, shadows shifted without warning and the odd sound contributed to the already eerie on and off stillness of the area. “Being drunk isn’t going to help you.”

“It'll help me get to sleep later,” he stated simply before drinking more. “I'd never get to sleep in this creepy grove anyway. I'm already half expecting witches to pop out on the other side of this bloody tree. Bloody thing could belong in the Everfree for all we know!”

“You play too much Witcher,” Andy-Rae retorted with a roll of his eyes. Having reclaimed his stick, he poked a charred chunk of wood out and teased it about idly. “Sometimes a creepy forest is just a creepy forest. That makes for a good campsite.”

“Whatever man..” James sighed, yawning a little. “I’m gonna hit the sack now Andy. See you in the morning.”

“Sleep well,” Andy-Rae said half-heartedly, grumbling to himself as he considered the task of putting the fire out for the night as there was little reason to stay up much longer himself.

~~~~~

The night deepened, the light and warmth the fire provided nothing but a memory marked by the long cold ash and charred wood almost like a scar between the two tents were the young men slept, both restless for reasons they couldn’t place, one significantly drunker than the other.

Moonlight illuminated the clearing in a delicate glow, the leaves and vines seeming to flourish under it, growing lush and full. As the night reached its peak, the edges of the clearing somehow transmitting the sensations of isolation and separation from the rest of the world even while heightening the feelings of unwelcome and frustration.

A sound from the direction of the oak rustled across the grove, the grass and moss trembling before it. All the plants seemed to defer to it as a wave of timelessness seemed to swallow the entirety of the grove casting the tents in contrast to the natural setting. It started first from the tangled and gnarled base of the oak, a thick wafting mist. The mist lingered around the roots, and if anybody had been around to watch it, they would be surprised to find that the mist rolled gently, inching outwards before hesitating and contracting slightly, the cycle repeating endlessly as the hazy phenomena advanced.

Almost as if something was taking slow, irritated breaths.

As the mists advanced towards the edges of the grove, it left all it passed and lingered over coated with pristine drops of dew that glistened faintly in the moonlight. It was if it were some form of miracle grow, for the grass and moss were shuddering as they grew thicker, dense and longer. Strange shrubs forced their way out of the ground, bare thorned branches reaching skywards, weaving together in places with only the minimal count of leaves gracing them. The entire grove was coming alive.

Another sound came from the oak, a low creak. A root shifted. The old oak shuddered, the shadows on the apparent face of the trunk casting it in an expression of anger.

Again the root moved, this time with more purpose. It pulled itself from the ground in hesitant jerks, several inches out in some places, revealing more and more of it’s length. Another root emerged beside the first, then a third, a fourth, a fifth. More. The ground and plant life parted before the numerous roots, ranging from one to four inches across, as they revealed and further extended themselves, reaching out towards the tents.

Like frenzied worms tendrils spawned from the ground the tents were set on and silently wove their way into the protective fabric walls. Within minutes the tents, sleeping bags, hiking bags and even set aside clothing and gear were ensnared.

A wide swath of the grove was now taken up with the progress of the roots, looking like strange stationary wave patterns. The old oak itself had changed. The face had turned to stare at the tents. The tree itself was straighter and more imposing. Branches were creaked and swayed in the wind even though the movements didn’t match the breeze, which was also far too weak to even move such thick branches.

Materials strained as the tendrils coiled tightly, and everything was torn to shreds in a silence that would make any stalking cat jealous, leaving the tent supports bare and equipment exposed. The two sleepers were left lying in the remains of their tents and sleeping bags, shivering from the sudden chill of being exposed not only to the crisp night air, but also the cold dew bearing mist.

The old oak creaked, and straightened as the root’s slow progress began to accelerate. Even the shifting in the mists increased as if the one breathing was more active.

The tendrils continued, new growth pushing past the fellows that fell away, scraps in their grip. They wove around the exposed support and equipment, as well the two young men. Metal poles and equipment rusted, decayed and rotted in slow motion as the tendrils claimed them. They wove into the clothing they wore and around any limbs they could reach.

The mostly bare sprays and springs that had been popping up in other places started growing in the spots previously blocked by the tents.

“Come on, man…. What are you doing?” Andy-Rae grumbled, roused partially. He tried to turn over, only to find unexpected resistance. “What the hell?” he asked in confusion as he pushed the sleep away. The tendrils resisted his tugs for a few seconds before breaking, but the damaged ends only coiled tighter despite being unconnected. “What the hell!”

James was still in his drunken slumber as more and more tendrils wormed into his clothing and around his form. His eyes still firmly closed, some unintelligible mumbling came from him before he let out a small laugh, the tendrils apparently tickling him.

“What the hell? What the hell? What the hell?” Andy-Rae chanted it like a mad mantra as he tried to get free of the relentless tendrils. Andy-Rae’s T-shirt and pants were drawn taut around him, tearing in a few places as he struggled to get to his feet. His glasses were missing but his mantra continued when he took in the rest of the former clearing, though he missed the advancing roots in the face of the thorned sprays. “James! Wake the hell up! Wake the hell up!”

“Wha… Wha... “ James muttered, still half asleep as he blinked several times, attempting to properly wake up. His eyes sprang open wide as he felt the numerous little tendrils grabbing at him. “What the fuck is going o- FUCK!!” The look of confusion on his face turned to utter horror as one of the steadily advancing roots emerged from the ground and grabbed him tightly by his ankle.

Swearing profusely, he did the only thing his alcohol addled and sleepy mind could think of. He started to kick at the root with his still free foot. “Let me the fuck go you stupid shrubbery!” he swore, in between his frantic cursing and kicking.

The air filled with an inhuman groan that emanated from the oak looming over them as the face on it changed. It's angry stare now came close to livid as with a creak and groan the mouth amid the roots appeared to open up.

James, who stopped his kicking and swearing, watched the tree in sheer unadulterated terror. Whimpering, the crotch of his jeans darkened as he lost control of his bladder. The root around his ankle started to pull him closer to the tree.

“NO! NONONONONONO! I’m sorry Mr. Tree! Please don’t kill me!!! I want to live! I'm sorry!”

Andy-Rae managed to free himself from the majority of the tendrils, though his clothes were the worse for it. His further struggles only served to make the situation worse. It was like being covered in worms and he couldn’t help it, particularly since he noticed the far thicker roots approaching.. The groan that came from the oak struck a chord deep in his core and for a moment the only thing on his mind was fear.

One of the roots thrust at his arm, and without concern for James he turned and ran. Disregarding the thorns that cut at his legs in his terror, he made for the edge of the clearing, only to be blocked by the wall of branches and plant life. “To hell with this,” Andy-Rae shouted, eyes wide and laughing in his panic as he tore at the branches, struggling to break his way out. “My life is not a horror show! I’m not dying in some fucked up forest!”

Andy-Rae froze, clenching at one of the branches, letting out a ragged breath. “FUCK.”

Against all his better judgements, he bent and hit the branch until it broke and brandishing it as a crude club, ran towards the fucked up oak tree. “Get your damn roots off him!”

Author's Note:

Edited by Celefin

Comments

[WiseFireCracker]

Okay, I have to admit, that scene at night alone made me want to upvote immediately. It's a dang interesting (and uncommon) way to introduce the story.

[The almighty bread god]

[Conflicting views]

So is it Andie or Andy?