Little Leaves

The sound of the train’s wheels skidding against the tracks echoed through the cabin I was in. Or… they would be if the train was on tracks. Writing this now, I realize how crazy it sounds—you’re probably thinking “what are they on?” I would think that too – after all, the story I’m about to tell you is one of ghouls and anomalies. You probably don’t know what those are, though. And that is why I’m here: to explain it all for the worst case that my curse cannot be broken in a year’s time.

But I’m getting ahead of myself… it wasn’t always this way. Although my new normal consists of spending days alone in my grandpa’s old A-frame cabin, trying and failing to ignore the ghostly sounds all around me, there was a time when I had more. Friends, a home, a job, a life. Sure, there was typical family drama and a boss that drove me mad, but my life was comfortable and mostly happy. And it was free of ghosts. It’s hard to remember now the last time I went a whole day without seeing a ghost. But no matter how hard I try, I’ll never forget the first ghost I saw.

It was actually on a train. I know, how odd that is. I’m writing this on a train and the first ghost I saw was on one. I was going home from a concert, reading as everyone in the fan’s group chat signed off. But there was this one account that kept messaging… wanted to “see” me. Oh, how I tried to block them. But then they started to list off cabin numbers – the fear I felt when they broke into mine. It was… a monster. No face, so tall it almost hit the top of the cabin roof! And its head… Oh, I will never get the image of the bloody flowers growing out of its skin. It’s forever engraved within my mind. Because this ghost?

It was the ghost that cursed me. Cursed me to die in a year and become a monster; an anomaly just like it.

After the encounter with the anomaly, things happened slowly. At first, I noticed no difference in my life. I took a few days off of work, pretending to be sick, and braced myself for the unknown horror that would follow. But I felt fine. Looking back, I actually felt amazing. I had so much energy that I decided to go back to work. And a few weeks later, I decided that what had happened in that train cabin was nothing more than a nightmare. I fit back into my daily rhythm and allowed myself to forget. I’ll never forgive myself for letting my guard down like that.

Because one day, it all fell apart. The day the flowers started. It was subtle at first… tiny leaves poking through my skin. Scary, yes, but they did no harm. Easy to pluck and move on with my life. But then those… those petals started to grow. They hurt to remove. And the more I pulled at them, the more they grew back. To this day they might not be visible but… maybe it’s because it’s only been a month. Regardless, that was the day I couldn’t look at flowers the same way. They were like poison to look at now…

At this point, you might be picturing something amazing. A human girl covered in a beautiful array of multicolored petals and lush green leaves. But flowers have a purpose. The bright colors and perfumed scent draws in all sorts of insects to pollinate. It wasn’t long before I realized that my petals had a purpose too. I began to attract ghosts. All manner of spirits and specters began to float to me, day and night. One night I woke up out of a dead sleep only to find myself surrounded by dozens of ghosts, moaning and reaching towards me. I tried to run but I’d grown roots that held me to my bed. I tried to scream but thick vines covered my mouth. The ghosts advanced on me like a thick cloud of fog, and I could do nothing but watch in terror.

For the longest time, I thought I was dead. I closed my eyes and prayed. Wished for someone, anyone, to save me. End the constant pain and fear the petals were inflicting. To rescue me from my curse.

And then I saw them. I did not know who they were—only that they all looked to be around my age. They were like me… only different. Used to be human and now ghouls due to their deals with demons. The same demons they wound up eating and turning them into what they were. They were only a vision—yet they were comforting enough that the vines entrapping me to my bed let me loose and I could breathe again. The ghosts’ wails and cries, non-existent.

The moment the vines loosened, I yanked myself free of the roots that had buried deep into my mattress. My mind was racing so quickly that I couldn’t hold onto any thoughts but one: Escape. As I threw a few of my belongings into my backpack, I kept an eye out for ghosts… and I hoped to see a ghoul. But none came. Something within me told me to hop on the train and go to my grandpa’s old cabin in the woods. I didn’t give myself a chance to question the feeling that was pulling me to that cabin. I just flung my bag over my shoulder and escaped out the door of my apartment. My heart thudding wildly in my chest and my eyes constantly roaming the streets for another glimpse of a ghoul, I made my way to the downtown train station.

I know, this all sounds insane. That’s why I’m writing this. On my way to the cabin on… whatever this train is. Consider it my parting words. To whomever finds my journal. Maybe one of the ghouls would find it? Or maybe Grandpa? Oh, I hope he doesn’t… It would send him to an early grave.

If I could tell you how scared I am, I would. But words can’t even explain that. Not enough. None of this will make sense, and it probably never will. Even as I write this, I can still feel the painful itch of the flowers cutting through my skin and taking root. It’s only been a month… I can’t stand this at all. I just want the comfort of Grandpa’s cabin.

The sun has set and the cabin lights are dim. I’m trying to look out the window to get a sense of where we are, but I can also see my own reflection in the glare of the window pane, staring back at me. A small leaf is sprouting just above my right eyebrow. I don’t even bother to pull it out from my skin because I can feel the train slowing down. The train lets out two long, eerie whistles into the night air. I stand, feeling like I’m in a trance, with that strange sensation still pulling me along. Grabbing the bag from my seat, I head to the door and jump down onto the small platform in the middle of a densely wooded area. Grandpa’s woods. Even in the pitch dark, I know that I’m close now.

I know I can’t stop now.

Not when I’m so close to the cabin. So close to what’s left of my old life. Of Grandpa.

I trekked farther into the dark woods. The familiar woods. If you listened closely, you could hear the trees whispering as they swayed. It was the same as when I was a child.

I used to find comfort in that. 

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I’m scared.

I’m doing my best to look straight into the darkness ahead of me. Every small noise of the wildlife around me makes me jump. Grandpa used to say that as long as you know where you’re going, the forest will leave you alone. It’s when you start to look lost that the trees think you are out of place, and they will try to claim you as their own. So I walk with purpose, the pine needles soft beneath my old boots and the moon a bright sliver overhead, giving barely enough light for me to make out the shape of the cabin in the distance.

It’s been years since I walked in these woods. Would I even make it to the cabin? I don’t know. That’s why you’re keeping me company. Or… well, my journal that is. By the time you read this, I’m either dead or my curse got me.

I can still feel the burning sensation as the plants continue to grow out of my body. Horrible sensation—I pray you never have to handle this. Hell, I pray if my curse does get me that you never look for me. Lest you join me in that life…

The time is 2:30 PM. I found the cabin. It’s so… new looking. Almost eerie given Grandpa hasn’t been here in two years since his knee surgery.

I feel around in the dark for that one rock that is worn smooth from generations of my family members flipping it over to grab the old skeleton key hidden beneath it. I click the key into the lock and I manage to turn it and open the door a crack when—SNAP! The roots are back and are pulling me tight against the ground. My legs are yanked from under me and I hit the ground on my side, getting the wind knocked out of me. I feel a scream stuck in the back of my throat that won’t escape and I’m desperately clawing at the ground, dirt and pine needles and small sharp rocks getting under my nails as the roots pull relentlessly, dragging me backwards away from the safety of the cabin.

No.

NO NO NO NO NO NO! THIS WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN! I was supposed to just go inside and find Grandpa’s medicine cabinet!

Why are they doing this to me?! I was following what the anomaly said: “seek the cure where your heart thrives most.” What did I do wrong?! Why is it taking me away?! I clawed at the ground and managed to grab a sharp rock before I cut the roots off me.

And then I ran. I ran into the house and slammed the front door shut. I lost my belongings except this journal. But I’m still here. I’m still alive. For now… What the hell is it with those roots?!

I’m sitting with my back against the cabin door and my heart is still hammering against my ribs. I’ve caught my breath but I’m frozen in place, scared to remove my body from the door in case it somehow opens up behind me and the horrors of the woods attack me again. My hand is curled into a tight fist and I slowly stretch out my fingers. I’ve left small cuts in my hand from squeezing so tightly and the droplets of blood on my palm are each sprouting a tiny, perfect leaf. I remember then: I am the horror.

The thought jolts me into action and I scramble towards the bathroom door, first crawling in my hurry and then stumbling to a stand. I run into the bathroom and yank open the medicine cabinet. This has to be it. I need this cure more than I’ve ever needed anything.

I cannot become the thing I swore I’d never become. The thing my grandfather used to tell me stories about. No. I couldn’t. I needed to find the cure before it was too late. It was bad enough the curse seemed to be accelerating. As I moved, I could feel more flowers and leaves growing through my skin. Oh, how much it burned. I had to find it. It had to be here. Somewhere. Anywhere. Medicine cabinet? Or maybe the kitchen! Ugh, there were way too many places to look through and not enough time! I NEED MORE TIME!

I can hear them whispering. Trying to pull me back under into their in-between ghost world where I’ll be lost to the fog forever. But I won’t go that easily. The anomaly’s voice sounds in my head again: “seek the cure where your heart thrives most.”

And I’ve got it.

I head straight for my childhood bedroom as quickly as I can. My vision is darkening and my skin is burning, burning, burning…

I need to focus! I crawl to the floor and reach my arm under my childhood bed, waving it around wildly, when I feel my arm strike something solid. I pull the heart-shaped memory box out from underneath the bed and pop open the lid for the first time since Mom left. I scramble to turn on the bedside lamp but the light bulb flares and sputters out, leaving me more in the dark than before. I blink quickly, trying to clear the burst of stars from my vision and I dig around the box of memories, trinkets, photos, and old train ticket stubs.

It has to be here.

I dumped it all onto the ground. Come on… Come on… Damn it, everything here is looking exactly the same! I moved my hands to my hair and tugged at it angrily. That stupid anomaly! Where could it have moved it! Did it know I would come here? It should’ve been in that box! That box held all my memories—I paused as I looked outside the window. The old willow tree outside. I used to always hang out there. It has to be there! I ran outside, towards that tree. It was my only hope! Except… As I ran, I could feel the leaves and flowers start to suddenly grow at an insane rate. It burned so much. And yet I could see it – the cure! I was so close! I used all my energy to run as fast as I could towards it. Towards the tree. All for nothing. The roots wrapped around my ankles and held my feet to the ground – never letting go as the curse took over. My body a statue of greenery now – forever bound to the forest that took me and turned me into one of its own. 

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A year later, a group of kids were out hiking one day when they came across a cabin. It looked abandoned, and when they went inside they saw it looked like it was ravaged through. They spotted a bloody journal lying on the ground, and would later find a statue-like bush of a young girl reaching out to the sky as if grabbing something.

The kids decided to pitch a tent and spend the night. They poured over the journal, reading each entry to each other aloud as they sat around the bonfire, using creepy voices and trying to make each other jump. Sometime around 2:30 AM they decided to call it a night and they headed into the tent to get some sleep. The next day, they would hike back out and take the train home to the city.

James ended up keeping the journal. He was a writer himself, and wanted to use it as inspiration for a piece he was working on. During the train ride home, he drifted to sleep, and woke to the sound of the train whistle as they pulled into the city.

That night, James set the journal on his desk and planned to do some writing in the morning. He went to the little bathroom off of his bedroom to brush his teeth and wash up before he got to sleep. As he was rinsing his face with water, something pricked his hand. Ouch! He leaned towards the mirror and inspected his face.

A small, green leaf was sprouting from his cheek.