Unclaimed

Something felt wrong.

It wasn’t a loud, jarring wrongness. I couldn't pinpoint exactly what had changed, but my subconscious had already reached out, grabbed me by the shoulders, and was shaking me with frantic urgency.

Pay attention, it seemed to scream. Look around.

I stopped in my tracks. A shiver, cold and sharp, raced down my spine, settling in the small of my back. I stood perfectly still, holding my breath, listening.

The birds were gone.

I tried to remember the last time I’d heard a chirp or the rustle of wings in the canopy above, but the memory was frustratingly out of reach. Minutes? An hour? How long had I been walking deeper and deeper into these woods, guided by nothing but the rhythmic crunch of my own boots on the leafy litter below?

"I'm not lost," I whispered to the empty air. My voice sounded small, swallowed instantly by the forest's heavy, damp atmosphere.

I looked back the way I thought I’d come. The path was there, a faint indentation in the greenery. I could turn around. I could walk in the opposite direction whenever I wanted to...

And yet, despite the dread pooling in my stomach, I couldn't deny how beautiful it was. The colours were almost offensive in their vibrancy. They were warm, with inviting golds and greens. Maybe they were too bright? The bushes were heavy with blossoms I didn't recognise, their petals looking like velvet, while the trees dripped with lush, weeping moss that swayed in a breeze I couldn't feel against my skin.

The scent was overwhelming. It was a heavy mix of floral perfume and the rich, organic scent of fertile soil. Nothing about this was threatening, and for a moment, it put me back at ease. I took a deep breath, letting the fragrance fill my lungs as I stepped forward into a large, shaded clearing.

In the centre stood a tree.

A massive oak tree took up the space, its trunk so wide it would have taken a dozen people to encircle it. It was surrounded by concentric circles of bright white pebbles, almost glittering against the deep green of the surrounding moss. The oak’s branches extended horizontally, weaving into the neighbouring trees until it was impossible to tell where the oak ended and the rest of the forest began.

I felt a magnetic pull toward it. My feet moved of their own accord, stepping over the white pebbles. I placed my hand against the rough bark. It felt alive, and it made the hairs on my neck stand on end.

Maybe this is all a dream, I thought, my mind grasping for any logical explanation. That’s why the colours are all wrong. That’s why everything feels sort of 'off'.

A wave of exhaustion hit me then. My knees felt weak. The moss looked so soft, so welcoming. Maybe I should lie down for just a moment. Just until the world stopped feeling like it was tilting on its axis–

A sharp rustle erupted at the edge of the clearing.

I spun around, my heart leaping into my throat, suddenly no longer drowsy. "Hello!?"

Silence.

There was nothing there. No deer, no wind, no person. Just the shifting shadows of the trees. But I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched.

Leave. Now.

My heart pounded against my ribs like a trapped bird, frantically trying to escape from my chest as I backed away from the tree. Every instinct I possessed was screaming that I wasn't welcome here. I rushed toward the edge of the clearing, diving back into the thicket.

Strangely, the forest seemed to cooperate. The bushes parted for me, the branches pulling back to create a clear, easy-to-follow path. I didn't question it. I followed the path, running, retracing my steps, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

Every culture has folklore about this, I reminded myself, trying to anchor my mind. Old wives' tales. Stories to make children behave. There are no monsters under your bed. There are no enchanted woods.

I followed the path until it opened up again. I expected to see the familiar trail back to the road, but instead, I stumbled into a clearing.

A massive oak tree stood in the centre.

Circles of white pebbles. Moss-covered earth.

My heart sank. "This... this isn't right."

I shook my hands, trying to clear the pins and needles in my fingers. It couldn't be the same tree. I had walked in a perfectly straight line away from it. I looked at the pebbles, at the branches– It sure looked like the same tree.

"Just a coincidence," I whispered, though my voice trembled. "The forest is full of clearings and oaks."

I approached the tree again, determined to prove my own sanity. I reached out and, with a sharp tug, tore a piece of the bark away. The wood beneath was a pale, raw pink– like scrape wound. I threw the bark to the ground.

The forest responded with a sudden, violent gust of wind that made the canopy above sigh. I shivered, staring at the mark I’d made.

If I see that pink flesh again, I’ll know for sure.

I turned to leave, but a chilling, childlike giggle echoed from the shadows behind me. It was high-pitched, musical, and utterly devoid of warmth.

I spun around, my eyes searching the dark gaps between the trunks.

"Who's there!?"

I tried to sound confident. I tried to sound like someone who wasn't currently terrified and losing their mind.

The only reply was the growing sense of dread in my heart and the sound of a single twig snapping in the distance, and another giggle.