The Tree of Life
A daughter goes to check on her reclusive father to see what he’s discovered.
I’d never heard a building howl before.
I’d turn back, but my father’s been secluded for months. An acclaimed neurosurgeon and hospital magnate, he was renowned for his ability to make impossible dreams a reality. Paralysis undone, phantom limbs excised, dementia cured... his hospitals bordered on the miraculous.
Yet, since Mother died… his focus changed. He became obsessed, controlling. He eschewed practical research, diverting millions into paranormal subjects: Collective unconscious. Eschatology. Eternal life.
For three years, his only communications have been raving letters. He’s refused my company, estranging us both as I’ve been forced to run his hospitals.
But now he has something to show me. And as much as it hurts, he’s still my father, and I’m still his daughter.
My hands hesitate over the knocker of our family mansion, when suddenly the whole edifice moans. I leap back instinctively, almost twisting my ankle on cracked stairs.
Recovering, I knock cautiously. An impatient moment passes, and the door creaks open.
The mansion is dark, silent except for a rhythmic breeze whistling in the hallway. A breathing. And another howl.
The walls rattle, and beyond the basement door I hear a cacophony, like all the voices in the woods screaming.
I descend the steps, heart pounding.
There, in a room all alone sits a large, open tank, glowing faintly. And in it, a tree of faces and brains, roots of ganglia spilling over the glass.
A massive collection of animal and human faces droop from flesh branches, the backs of their skulls sawed open to expose pinkish-grey brain-flesh. Greymatter stretches from each, tangling and stitching together to form a spongy, drooping willow tree, showcasing every gaping face.
And there, admiring the tree, is my father.
I retch. “What is this?”
“Connection, Dear.” My father smiles, too serene. “Every perspective, every experience, all joined in one Tree of Life. Little insect, swimming fish, clever monkey…loving wife.”
In its trunk I see a familiar face.
I rush forward. “Mother!”
Her jaw trembles, chewing her words, “Ab-i-gaiiil.” Her voice is layered by dozens of others, some voices human, others animalistic.
The tree howls, reverberating the building. My instincts beg me to run, but my legs betray me.
“Don’t worry Abigail.” My father cups my cheek reassuringly.
Thick tendrils of nervous tissue twirl around me, embracing me, holding me down as my father cleans his surgical tools.
“We’ll all be together again soon.”
Words From the Author
Another round of the Scary Story Contest by NYCM! While this one’s under my name, it’s definitely another group effort, with considerable re-writing from George (and even a contribution from his brother!) and suggestions from Miguel.
Different writers definitely have different strengths. For this particular contest, I actually wrote three different 500-800 word stories, just to feel out what we felt would work best. One I might end up posting at a later date, since I ended up liking it, but the group voted to go with this one as the most creative and creepy of the scary stories I presented (even though it was originally 300 words over). This is all to say, ideation and quick drafting are particular strengths of mine.
But the original draft was significantly more “Frankenstein” (always had a soft-spot for gothic horror). The emotional angle was not especially developed, and the mother wasn’t included in the story at all. I had the brain tree connected to a sort of under-floor behemoth, so the threat was more physical than existential. George, who truly is a master of character emotion, bumped up the quality of the final product significantly.
Ideas from my fellow authors got it to this point, and now we can only hope our idea of scary resonates with the judges. But overall, I think we have a neat piece of body-horror here.