Contained, deep within the frozen wilderness of Alaska, sits a tree, slowly wilting away; its limbs brittle and its leaves scarce. It rests, barren during the well-lit hours of the day, but in the darkness of night, it bellows a song equal to that of a symphony. The notes evaporate from the decaying roots and dance along the waves of grass that gently flow in the constant breeze that surrounds it. Its Thunderous ensemble of exquisite pitch and tone quickly becomes a somber display of agony and depression, revealing a mixture of emotions that weigh heavy on your very soul.
Legend has it that a bright and talented violinist was violently r***d and murdered under the watch of the tree; her flaccid body found hanging below one of the withering branches. It is believed that her wondering soul took refuge within the tree, gifting all who listens the song of her incurable longing to live once more. Those who hear the song are compelled to help her, lured by the sound like a boatsman seduced by the song of a siren. Those who are weak hearted enough to succumb to the songs alluring melody would have the same fate of the woman befall them.
Some of the unfortunate victims are found more lacerated than others. One man’s body was found with his p***s logged deep inside his throat and his fingers sliced off, laying in a neat pile beneath him, another’s limbs were rearranged, his head stealing the spot of his left arm, it returning the gesture. His right leg now becoming his right arm with the arm taking its place. These mysterious and gruesome deaths happened off and on for several years, many civilians began moving out of the city, until the murders finally ceased a couple years ago, ceased, until now.
An unreported murder, no more than a few days old, took place beneath the tree once more. Somehow, the townspeople were able to keep the tragedy away from headlines, but everyone nearby knew of the circumstance. Many were outraged, the serenity that once enveloped them just a few days ago, had now been interrupted by the very thing that plagued them years ago. They decided to cut down the tree, and end it.
They paraded into the forest, armed with chainsaws and axes, ready to deal with the vengeful spirit once and for all. They revved up their chainsaws and heaved their axes, cautiously descending upon the tree. A low, almost inaudible hum resonated from within the branches. The townspeople paused, unsure if they should continue. Suddenly, one of the branches animated, the tree directing it like a puppet master with his dummy. It shot out, burying itself onto one of the townsman’s chest. It tore downwards to his lower abdomen, his entrails falling to the ground like a demented waterfall.
The others screamed in terror, and began desperately trying to cut it down. Another branch launched itself at another unsuspecting townsman, logging itself into his cranium, forcing its way out the back of his skull. They barely made a dent in the tree before they were all slaughtered, one by one. The carnage was discovered the next day; none had survived. Eventually, the forest was closed off and the town evacuated. No one has set foot within those woods since then.
Deep within the forest, the tree still sits, withering away, its symphonic song echoing in the breeze, waiting for its next victim to entice and lure to their untimely demise.
