THE HANGING TREE
“Son, I want you to promise me something.”
“Sure, Grandpa.”
“I’m serious, now. Promise you won’t go near the Hanging Tree on Halloween.”
“The what?”
“That big ol’ lonely tree, sitting right outside town. Legend goes, they hung a fella there on Halloween, more’n 100 years ago. Been an evil tree ever since.”
“How can trees be—“
“Shush, I’m telling you. When I was your age, me and my buddies dared each other to carve our names into its trunk. Weren’t no troubles, till Henry Phillips decided to top us all. Without saying why, Henry gathered us there on Halloween night, just to spite the tree and show off. We held his pocketknife and Zippo for him while he tied a rope around a rock and tossed it over a limb.
“When he was ready, he hauled himself up and disappeared into the branches and leaves. Then after awhile, way up high, Henry’s Zippo sparked and flickered, and we reckoned he’d started carving. ‘Cept right then, we heard him scream like he’d seen a ghost. His Zippo came tumblin’ down through the branches, with Henry following. I’ll never forget hearing CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! then WHUMP! as he hit the ground, dead.”
“What happened?”
“That’s what I wondered. So come morning, I climbed up myself. You know what I found, carved good and proper? ‘Henry Phillips, RIP.’ With dates, like on tombstones. They was the correct dates, too.”
“Why did Henry carve—“
“He didn’t. It was the tree’s message to Henry. Know how I know?”
“How?”
“Henry forgot to ask for his knife back. It was still in my back pocket when he climbed up there.”
Credits to: TerrifiedbyTwilight
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THE TATTOO
Head throbbing, stomach churning, I pulled myself up slowly to a sitting position in bed. I hadn’t had a hangover this bad in ages. I remembered meeting my friends Todd and Kip downtown for a drink, but after moving to a second bar, everything goes dark. I hooked up with someone…think her name is Carla. After a minute, she came out of the bathroom, not looking much better than I felt.
“How are you?” I asked.
“I feel like shit,” she declared, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Thank god for cabs. Last thing I remember is the tattoo parlor…”
I tilted my head. “What? Tattoo parlor?”
Carla frowned and pointed. On the back of my hand was a brand new tattoo, the skin around its edges still red and irritated. It was some kind of symbol, like a rune or something. “I tried to talk you out of it.”
“What the fuck? I don’t remember anything. What is it?”
“There was this creepy old lady sitting at the bar and she overheard us talking about tattoos. She drew that on a napkin and gave it to you. Said it was an ancient symbol of good luck. Next thing I remember is being in a tattoo place where you got that done.”
I looked at the symbol again. “Good luck. Wonder if it works.”
Carla’s head snapped toward me. Her eyes widened and darkened. Her lips curled back to expose teeth like an angry dog. Suddenly, it wasn’t the face of a woman, but of a creature.
“You’re still alive, aren’t you?”
Credits to: minnboy
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