Don't stray from the path.

(Note: This story contains disturbing imagery involving dead bodies, mold, and maggots.)

I’m not much of a writer, but I have a story that I need to tell someone about. My name is Scarlett Thomas, and everything that I’m about to say happened near my home town. I used to be in the outskirts of a small town in Montana. I lived with my parents in an old house that was passed down for generations. I walked everywhere I needed to go, which is pretty much just walking to work and walking to school when I was younger. I never needed to go anywhere, I never felt the need to leave. I don’t have any family outside of my parents, or at least that’s what they told me. They sheltered me my whole life, I didn’t know if it was out of fear that they’d lose me, or that was just how they showed affection. When I was younger, they’d walk me to and from school until I was a senior in high school. It was embarrassing, but I didn’t really care much. They let me have friends, but never let me spend the night outside the house. I respected every rule they gave me until I was an adult and they let me do whatever. Well, except one rule they made me follow for as long as I can remember. “Never stray from the path home and back.”

“The path” that they are talking about is a gravel path that cuts through a bunch of trees that surround our house. I never really understood why. Our house was only about a 15 minute walk from town, it’s not like anyone could get lost just from taking a short cut off the path. I have asked them a few times why I couldn’t go off of the path, but they always changed the topic when it came up. I tried asking people around town, but couldn’t think of anything strange about it. And even when I walk too close to the edge, I would always get a feeling of dread inside me. It was as if something was trying to push me away.

I didn’t know what would have happened if I stepped off the path. I could somewhat see into the forest from the path and I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. I never saw or heard anything weird, actually, I didn’t hear anything at all. You’d think I’d hear some squirrels or even the sound of leaves blowing in the wind, but there was nothing. I never saw any leaves on the ground, the trees never looked different in all the years I’ve lived there, the leaves never even changed with the seasons. It was completely dead there. No sounds, no animals, there weren't even any bugs.

I stepped off the path one day. It wasn’t for any reason, I just let the curiosity get to me. There was this one large gap in-between some trees that opened a path to the forest. I fought through the dread and stepped off the path. I thought that it would feel freeing, but that sense of dread just followed me, getting stronger with each step. And after a few steps, I turned back. As soon as I got back on the path, I felt safer, like I didn’t have to worry about what was past those trees. There was no reason for me to be afraid, and still, I felt like I was putting my life on the line every time I even got close to those trees. That was 4 years ago, and the first time I stepped off the path. The second time requires a bit of context.

Six months ago, I was still living in that house, except now my parents were dead. They got really sick and refused to go to the hospital because of their “tradition” . I discovered their bodies in their bed after a few days. I was devastated. I stayed home from work and mourned their death for a few days. I didn’t really know what to do with them because my dad always said that when they die, don’t call or tell anyone. They never told me what to do, so I left them there.

It wasn’t until a few days later that I started getting these recurring dreams that ended differently every night. In the first dream, I was walking down the path at night. Normally, the path goes straight to town with only a few twists and turns along the way. But in the dream, half way through, it took a hard left and went into the forest. I had to squeeze past trees just to stick to the path. I’ve never been into the forest before so I never knew how big it was. There were hundreds of trees, so many more than I thought. I kept following the path for what felt like hours until I ended up back at the house. Then I woke up. It was about 2AM when I had that dream. I don’t know why, but I felt the urge to go check on the area where the path changed. So I got up and started walking down the path. It was so eerie at night, the darkness made it feel like the trees were watching me. And the creepiest of all, I heard a sound. The trees never made a sound before, but now they made a noise that sounded like a long, deep groan. That sound followed me as I walked on the path. I tried to ignore it and just find the spot I was looking for. Eventually, I stopped at the gap in the trees I tried to walk through years ago. That was where the path changed in my dream. I got closer without leaving the path. I tried to take another step out, but I got that feeling of dread and quickly headed back inside, trying to block out the sounds.

The second dream I had was different. I was walking down the path again, until I got to the gap. I looked down and saw the path was gone. And the gap got replaced with two holes in the ground. There was still a small gap in-between them, just big enough for me to fit through, but the path was still gone and I couldn’t bring myself to walk off it. I tried to go back, but the path back was gone. Every time I turned around, more and more of the path disappeared. Before all of the path could disappear, my alarm went off. I woke up, I was sweating, gasping for air.

I called out of work, told my boss I was sick, which I've been doing everyday since my parents died. I guess that was one too many days and he fired me over the phone. Honestly, I didn’t really care. I didn’t want to work there any more. I didn’t even want to live in the town anymore. I wanted to run away from this house and never look back. But, despite the fact, I kept living there. I couldn’t just leave mom and dad decomposing in their room. At least, not until I figured out what to do with them.

The third and final dream I had was much different. I was still walking down the path, but this time, I was being watched. There were people looking at me from behind the trees. There had to be hundreds of them. Some looked like they were hundreds of years old, wearing things that looked like they were from the 1800’s. I kept walking down the path for much longer than usual. As I walked farther down, I got to the gap again. But this time, there were trees in the way. They weren’t like the other. They had bugs crawling all over them, and there were vultures pulling leaves out and eating them. I never saw any birds or bugs in the forest before. And as I got closer, I saw two people behind them. I leaned in closer to see them. Then, as I almost stepped off the path. They jumped out at me. It was my parents. Their decomposing bodies got closer to me. I saw maggots crawling in their skin and mold growing away at their flesh. I jumped back in fear and landed on my back. I tried crawling away, but all the people in the trees started surrounding me. They looked even more decomposed than my parents. They got closer. Trying to escape from them, I even crawled off the path. Then hands from under the dirt started grabbing at me, pulling me underground right between the decomposing trees. I saw hundreds of faces looking down at me from in the hole. I closed my eyes, hoping to wake up.

Then suddenly, all the noise disappeared. I opened my eyes, and saw that I was in the basement. I’ve only been in there one time when I was really young, so my memories of it are fuzzy. But there was one thing that I remember clearly. A big mural of a tree with roots sinking into the dirt and connecting to something that I couldn’t see back then. But I could see it in the dream. It was a corpse with roots pierced through the rotting body. I was confused and looked around for anything that would explain this. And from the wall, emerged a rotting hand that pointed to a box. I looked inside and found a book. But as soon as I opened it, I woke up.

I’m pretty sure it was around 3AM. I immediately got out of bed and went down to the basement. It looked exactly like it did in the dream. The mural, the box, and the book were all exactly where they were in my dream. The only difference was, the hand was actually just a stray tree root. I grabbed the book and flipped through it. The book told of a burial technique, where people would put tree seeds around a dead body and bury them so that a tree would sprout from the body. There were drawings of the process. But I stopped when I saw a photograph. It wasn’t a part of the book, it seemed to be glued in. The picture was of someone being buried in a mostly empty field. I just thought it was a random area, until I saw a house in the background. It was my house from hundreds of years ago. I found more photos on each page. Each one had more and more trees showing up until it looked like the forest around the houses. The forest wasn’t just any forest. All the trees were the result of hundreds of dead bodies being buried with this process.

I was horrified. I felt like throwing up. I couldn’t look at it any more and threw the book at the corner of the room. It landed on a bag of tree seeds that had, “For me and my wife.” Written on it in my dad’s handwriting. Suddenly it clicked why my dad told me not to tell anyone about them. I debated on what I should do before finally grabbing the bag and bringing it upstairs. I left it in a wheelbarrow outside along with a shovel. Finally, I opened the door to my parents room. They were still in bed, rotting slowly. It smelled awful. I grabbed them and dragged them outside and carefully placed them in the wheelbarrow. I carried them down the path and to the gap in the trees that was off the path. And for the first time in years, I stepped off the path. But this time, I didn’t feel the sense of dread I always got. I didn’t feel like I was being pushed away. I buried them there, putting tree seeds in the hole along with them.

A few weeks later, I moved out. I couldn’t stay in that house knowing it was surrounded by graves in the shape of trees. I moved in with a friend out of town that I still had contact with. I got a job and am trying to save up money to get my own place. I am glad I moved out, but it kind of feels weird knowing that my whole life, I was surrounded by corpses. But, in a weird sort of way, I’m glad I finally know why I wasn’t allowed off the path and I’ve never felt that sense of dread since then. It does kind of sting, knowing the house my family grew up in is empty and abandoned now. But, there is still one thing that I can’t decide should bring me comfort or I should feel sad about. When I packed up all my stuff and started leaving, I saw the spot with the gap in the trees, and there were two little sprouts popping up right where my parents were buried.