There are days where I don’t believe that it happened. These are the best days, because then I can get through work without a panic attack. I can pretend the nightmare was just that: a nightmare. The sun rises, the dream fades, and life carries on like normal.
But every time I open my phone and see the group chat’s last message, a skull emoji sent by my friend Jamie six months ago, it all comes crashing back. The flames of fear consume me and the vines of survivor’s guilt immobilize me. And I’m taken back to that world, the land of the woven trees.
My therapist says writing about it might help. I don’t think writing to strangers online is what she had in mind, but she probably doesn’t believe me anyways. Not that I blame her; the whole thing sounds like a teenager’s shitty creepypasta and I’ve given up on trying to explain it to everyone. Well, everyone besides those who come across this post. So congratulations on finding this, the one and only place I’ll tell the story of what really happened on the Woven Tree Trail.
Jamie and I were sitting on a bench outside the guest center, our backpacks leaning against the table. “You know, I’m pretty sure smoking is illegal in public parks,” I said to Jamie.
“Pshhh, no one gives a fuck,” she said, blowing another puff of the joint. “Besides, we’re about to go hiking for a week. I need to get in a hit when I can, y’know?”
“Alright, I’m sure everyone’s going to love breathing in weed as they’re hiking.”
Jamie gave me a small push but laughed. “Hey, I’m not that bad!”
We heard the crunching of footsteps on gravel and turned to see my boyfriend, Grant, walk up from behind. “Our guide is here,” he told us.
“Oh shit,” Jamie said, extinguishing the joint and quickly tucking it into her jacket pocket. In her haste she dropped the lighter to the ground.
“Let’s hope he doesn’t have a good sense of smell,” I quipped, picking up the lighter.
Jamie rolled her eyes, then looked at the lighter in my hand. “Maybe you can hold onto that so I don’t get tempted,” she said.
“Deal.”
The three of us walked towards the rest of our group. There were six of us in total: Jamie, my best friend and fellow engineer; Grant, my boyfriend and aspiring photographer; Tasha and Spencer, who were partners and medical students; Trevor, a college senior and the newest member of our group; and myself. We’d all met in a backpacking club at college, and stayed in touch since. We were having our annual backpacking trip, this time around a loop called the Woven Tree Trail. None of us had hiked it, but our trail guide had pretty good reviews online, so we figured we’d give it a shot.
Tasha, Spencer, and Trevor were standing around a short man that looked to be in his 50s or 60s. He had a thin, wiry frame with light brown skin that reminded me of the surrounding trees. If there was anyone fit to be a trail guide, it would be him, I thought. He wore a dark green bucket hat, a tan collared shirt, black shorts, and carried a backpack that probably weighed as much as him.
“Good day everyone,” he said, his voice soft like leaves. “My name’s Rowan, and I’ll be your guide through the Woven Tree Trail.”
He slid off his backpack with startling ease and opened a side pocket, pulling out a handful of… bracelets? Each one looked like a bundle of twigs woven into a circular shape, some with leaves still attached to them. Rowan began handing them out individually.
“These are safety bracelets, designed courtesy of the park,” he explained. “Each one is equipped with a GPS tag that I can keep track of using my own. I won’t be with you for much of the hike, but the trail itself is fairly straightforward. The trackers are just in case someone gets stuck or turned around.”
Rowan gave me one of the bracelets, which I studied. It really did just look like a bunch of twigs knotted together, but as I slipped it onto my wrist I felt it… attach itself to me? I assumed it was the sensation of whatever hardware was embedded among the sticks.
“This is pretty sweet actually,” Jamie said, showing off her own to me.
“They’ve definitely got the theming down,” I said.
“I’ll be serving breakfast and dinner every day at our campsites,” Rowan told us, putting on his backpack again. “Lunch and any other meals are up to you. Any questions before we begin?”
“How do you want us to pay you?” Tasha asked. “I have Venmo, but if you only take cash then I’ll have to wait until after the hike to drive to an ATM.”
“No need to worry about payment,” Rowan said. “I’m sure we’ll have it figured out by the end of the hike. Any more questions?”
None of us said anything else.
“Oh yes, one more thing before we begin.” He stared at us with his pale green eyes. “I’d suggest you don’t fall behind.”
Without elaboration, Rowan started down the trail, and I couldn’t help but notice my stomach churn at those words.
The morning hike passed uneventfully. Sometimes I walked with others, catching up on our lives and gossiping. Other times I walked by myself, soaking in the surrounding nature. Most days I’d be working my boring office job, so any opportunity to break from routine and return to the outdoors was one I’d take full advantage of. It was perfect backpacking weather too: the sun shone gently through the trees, the temperature hovering in the 60s. I could use more of this, I thought.
We had a quick lunch together, then broke off into groups again for the afternoon part of the hike. I ended up walking with Grant, who stopped frequently to take pictures with his Polaroid.
“You’re gonna run out of film by the end of the day if you keep that up,” I said.
“That’s why I brought two extra packs,” Grant said, pointing the camera at a ladybug crawling up a fern.
“Well, we don’t want to take too long. You remember what Rowan said about falling behind, right?”
Grant shrugged. “We’re near the front. Besides, he probably meant that for, like, inexperienced hikers who need a water break every fifteen minutes.” He took out the film and put it in a plastic bag.
“True, instead there’s you who needs a picture break every five minutes,” I said. Grant rolled his eyes.
We walked in silence for a few more minutes before Grant stopped. “WHOA!” he said. “Babe look at that!”
“Another picture break?”
“No, look at that tree,” Grant said, pointing off the trail. I followed his finger and saw what he was referring to. To the left of us, maybe 200 feet away, was the most gargantuan tree I had ever seen. It was easily the width of a car, maybe longer, but perhaps most striking was its structure: it looked like a hundred tree trunks woven together, twisting and looping and turning like the veins of some primordial giant.
“This must be what the woven trees are,” I said.
Grant, unsurprisingly, pulled out his camera again to take a picture. “Hopefully there are more of them further up so I can get a closer shot.”
We kept hiking, spotting more of the woven trees as we did. Most weren’t as big as the first, but all were large enough to dwarf the surrounding trees, and tall enough that we couldn’t even see their tops through the canopy. They were all relatively far from the trail, almost like the trees wished to hide from less observant hikers.
We reached the campsite in the late afternoon, where Rowan was hunched over a crackling fire, stirring something in a pot. “Congrats on being the first ones,” Rowan said, not taking his eyes off his task.
“How long have you been here?” I asked, admiring the old man’s speed.
“Long enough to start up dinner,” Rowan said. He closed the pot lid. “I assume the others are close behind?”
I shrugged. “Not sure, I don’t think they were too far back though.”
“You’ve got to see some of these pictures we got,” Grant said, pulling out his plastic bag. “There were these MASSIVE trees that looked like a bunch of trunks combined.”
“You know, there’s a legend about those trees,” Rowan said, his voice layered with passion. “They say that the Woven Trees are the remnants of ancient gods. These gods used to rule the land, but as time passed they gradually sank more and more into the ground until they grew roots and became the trees. The legend says that if you touch one of the trees at night, you will turn into wood and become woven into the tree.”
“They look kind of like the bracelets you gave us,” I said, holding out my wrist.
Rowan gave a proud smile. “I’m glad someone noticed that detail!”
“I wonder how such a plant even exists,” Grant said. “Is it literally hundreds of trees growing together, or one giant tree? Because if it’s all one, then surely it’s the tallest in the world, right?”
Rowan shrugged. “Not much is known about the Woven Trees. They’re unique only to this part of the world, and this trail is the only way humans can see them.”
Gradually, the rest of the group reached the camp; Tasha and Spencer arrived together, then Jamie and, right behind her, Trevor.
“Looks like you’re the loser,” Tasha teased when Trevor walked into camp. He rolled his eyes.
“Hey, I’m carrying the most food out of us all, okay?” Trevor said, smiling. “So if you want to be fed you better be quiet!”
They all had a surprisingly delicious dinner of cooked veggies, beans, and rice. Sitting around the fire, we exchanged stories of incidents from the previous five hours; apparently Spencer had accidentally dropped his water bottle into a creekbed, which took him and Tasha nearly half an hour to get. Rowan also told them stories of previous times he’d hiked the Woven Tree Trail, some alone, some leading other backpackers. “I think this is the largest group I’ve hiked with,” he said. “Definitely more than I’m used to. But it’s exciting!”
It slowly grew dark. Trevor, citing stomach pain, went back to his tent first. Soon, everyone else retired to their sleeping bags in preparation of a long hike tomorrow, including Rowan. Before long it was just Jamie and I sitting around the dying fire.
We were quiet for a while before Jamie broke the silence. “Why aren’t there any stars in the sky?” she said, gazing upward.
“Jamie, did you smoke that joint again?” I said, nudging her.
“Nooooo… well, maybe a little,” Jamie said, the orange fire lighting her smile. “But seriously though, this is sober Jamie asking. Why don’t I see anything in the sky?”
I followed her gaze and looked up. While the trees likely blocked most of the overhead, there should’ve been at least a few pinpricks of light poking through the leaves. Instead, there was nothing, not even the moon which would’ve risen by now.
“Huh, you’re right,” I said. Did it become cloudy?
“Maybe this is a sign for me to quit smoking,” Jamie said. She stood up and yawned. “And also a sign for me to go to sleep. Good night, Ash.”
“Good night Jamie.”
I sat there for a few more minutes on my own, looking at the sky, trying to rationalize what I was seeing–or rather, what I wasn’t seeing. Eventually, I convinced myself that I was tired from the hike, doused the embers with water, and retreated to my tent. But I couldn’t shake off the feeling of my stomach churning, as if to warn me of what’s to come.
The next morning, Rowan had an announcement.
“Earlier today, Trevor decided to leave,” he told us. “He was experiencing a lot of pain, so we walked over to a nearby road, where park officials picked him up.”
“It was probably that heavy backpack of his,” Tasha said. “That shit can be painful.”
“And he left without saying goodbye?” I asked. “That’s kind of weird.”
“Yes, unfortunately he had extreme abdominal pain and we couldn’t risk him staying for too long,” Rowan said. “Thankfully there’s a road close to this campsite, so he was safely transported to a hospital.”
“Not the first time he bailed on our annual trip,” Tasha said. “Remember when we tried to go to the Grand Canyon that one year? He canceled last minute to go to a friend’s birthday party. A fuckin’ birthday party, over the Grand Canyon!”
We all laughed over it, but something about the situation made me uneasy. I pulled out my phone, hoping that a nearby road meant there’d be cell service. But there was nothing.
We packed and left for our second day of hiking soon after. The trail was beginning to turn uphill, and as we continued I noticed more and more of the woven trees, some closer to the trail this time. Grant and I separated from the rest of the group again, where I decided to bring up my uneasiness.
“Babe, this hike has been kind of weird so far,” I said. “There’s the whole thing with Trevor leaving early, and I know it sounds dumb, but there weren’t any stars in the sky last night.”
“Maybe it got cloudy,” Grant said.
“Maybe, but also there’s something… off about Rowan. Like he’s cool, but I just get weird vibes, y’know? He doesn’t even hike with us.”
“All trail guides are a little weird honestly,” Grant said. “Although come to think of it, we haven’t really seen any wildlife so far. No bird calls, no squirrels. Nothing bigger than a ladybug at least.”
“Yeah it’s just… very unique compared to what we’re used to,” I said, breathing hard. The uphill hiking was starting to wear on me. “Do you think we could take a small break? I’m-“
“Woah, look at that!” Grant exclaimed. This time I didn’t need him to point - it was a woven tree maybe eight feet wide, growing directly to the right of the trail. He ran to the tree while I huffed and puffed to catch up.
From up close I could see the intricacies in its trunk. Contrary to what I had assumed from a distance, the trunk itself was uneven in thickness; the threads of wood bulged out and folded in like an amateur had woven it. Each individual log climbed, twisted, branched off, branched together, even looped back into itself. There were multiple crevices large enough to fit a human into, and I was tempted to try when Grant called from the other side of the tree.
“Uhhh… Ash?”
“What is it babe?”
“Remember how I said there wasn’t any wildlife?” Grant’s voice teetered between fascination and fear. “I think I found why.”
I walked to where Grant stood and nearly fell backward.
Fastened to the tree was a deer, or what was left of it. The animal had clearly been dead for a while; its skin was largely rotted away, its skeleton sticking out from behind the decayed flesh. At least, that is, for the upper half of its body. The bottom half was… fused with the tree. Sandy gray bark had seemingly grown around its stomach and hind legs, reminding me of the sundew: a carnivorous plant which slowly wrapped its nectar-lined leaves around unlucky insects. Except this was much larger than a sundew. Looking closer, I could see fresh growth around the part of the deer that touched the bark, almost like the tree was slowly swallowing its meal whole. A putrid smell invaded my nostrils, threatening to give my breakfast a reappearance.
We stood there in silence. “I think we should stay away from the trees,” Grant finally said.
“You think?”
We ended up waiting for everyone else to warn them about the tree. I couldn’t fathom how a plant was doing such a thing. Either the deer was already dead when it was attached, or the tree somehow immobilized and killed it.
“Maybe a hunter left it there and forgot, and the tree just grew around it,” Tasha suggested when she saw the deer.
“I don’t think trees can do that,” Spencer said.
“Trevor would know, he’s the one studying botany,” Jamie said. “By the way, did Rowan go ahead of y’all?”
Grant and I looked at each other. “We haven’t seen him since this morning, I thought he was with you three,” I said.
“No, he went ahead of us,” Tasha said. “Frankly I don’t know how he does it. He’s probably twice our age and kicking our asses! On this uphill part too!”
“How did he get past Grant and I without us noticing?” I wondered out loud.
“Maybe he took a different path,” Grant suggested. “After all he makes dinner for us, maybe there’s secret tunnels to get there quicker.”
“Secret tunnels?” I said.
“Hey, it’s not my dumbest idea!”
We got ready to continue our hike. But before we left I looked at the deer again. Its empty eye sockets stared back at me, its jawbone hung open in a frozen scream. I got the same feeling in my stomach again: the churning feeling that with every step we took, the deeper we went into the belly of a beast.
Perhaps out of fear, the five of us stuck together for the rest of the day. The trail continued steadily uphill, which meant lots of rest breaks. Compared to the morning, the afternoon was uneventful; although I couldn’t help but notice the woven trees were replacing more and more of the other flora.
We were almost at the next campsite when Spencer stopped to get a rock out of his hiking boot.
“You all go ahead, I know you’re hungry for dinner,” he said to us.
And hungry we were; Rowan had cooked a pot of mouth-watering mac and cheese, which we instantly devoured. For a moment, I was able to forget about all the strange happenings from that day. But the same couldn’t be said for everyone else.
“How did you get up here so quickly?” Jamie asked Rowan. “Ashley and Grant didn’t even see you hike past them.”
“You know, Jamie,” Rowan said slowly. “The more you hike this trail, the more you become a part of it.”
Jamie laughed. “What does that even mean?”
“It means, I’m your trail guide, you don’t need to worry about such things.” Rowan’s voice dripped with agitation.
“What about the tree that was eating a deer?”
Rowan paused, the question clearly catching him off guard. I saw something flash through his eyes; was it fear? Or maybe anger? But before he spoke, Spencer walked up to us. “Hey y’all, I’m feeling a little under the weather. I think I’m going to turn in for the night,” he said.
“Do you want me to get a bowl of mac and cheese for you, Spence?” Tasha asked.
“Nah, I’m good. Not much of an appetite.”
“Okay, well, make sure you at least eat something babe.”
We sat around the fire and chatted through the evening, but a lot of the energy that we’d had the first night was gone. Rowan kept much more to himself this time, as if he’d gotten sick of us. Soon, Tasha retreated to her tent to take care of Spencer, and a few minutes later Rowan left to his, leaving Grant, Jamie and I.
“Is it just me, or is something up with him?” Jamie asked us once Rowan was out of earshot. By that point it was almost dark. “I mean, there’s clearly something he knows that we don’t.”
“Honestly, he’s the least of our worries right now. This forest is weird as hell,” I said.
“Very true.” Jamie glanced upward. “Look up. Still no stars in the sky.”
Grant and I followed her gaze. Jamie was right. The sky was a navy blue, dark enough that there should’ve been some stars, but bright enough that we could tell it wasn’t cloudy.
“What could even explain this?” I asked. “There’s giant carnivorous trees and no stars in the sky. Not to mention that we hiked uphill for, like, eight hours, and it feels like we’ve gotten nowhere.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes, the fire’s crackling flames gradually reducing to embers.
“Well, we’ve completed a third of the hike,” Grant finally said. “Maybe we can power through to the end and we’ll be done with the weirdness.”
“Fuck, man, I really need another joint,” Jamie said.
We went back to our tents soon after, but I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned, the events of the day replaying itself in my head. All of this weirdness was too complicated, a math equation three grades too high for me to understand. Wherever we were, clearly the rules here were different from the outside world. While I prayed everything would turn out alright, my mind kept wandering back to the lifeless eye sockets of the deer, wondering if it was an omen for what waited ahead.
The next morning, I woke to the sound of Tasha screaming.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘HE DECIDED TO LEAVE’?!”
I heard Rowan’s voice respond, although it was inaudible through the tent fabric. Grant stirred next to me. “I’ll go check it out,” I told him, trying to remove the sleep from my system.
I climbed out of the tent, where through the gray morning light I saw Rowan hunched over the fire, cooking breakfast. Next to him stood Tasha, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“You are SERIOUSLY mistaken if you think I’m gonna believe that for a fucking SECOND,” Tasha said, her voice breaking.
“What is there not to believe? He did what I told you,” Rowan said simply.
“BULL-FUCKING-SHIT!” Tasha kicked over the pan, spilling half-made powdered eggs all over the ground. Rowan didn’t even flinch. I looked to my right and saw Jamie watching from her tent. We locked eyes and mouthed What the fuck to each other.
“If you don’t want breakfast, fine by me,” Rowan said. “I’ll see you tonight at the next campsite.” He began to put on his backpack.
“Wait!” I called. “What the hell happened?”
Rowan looked at me. “Last night, Spencer opted to leave. He was feeling sick.” Rowan’s voice was monotone, like he was reading from a script. “We walked to a nearby road, where park officials picked him up.”
And without another word, Rowan started down the trail, leaving looks of disbelief on our faces.