Growing up, I never went Christmas tree shopping.
We had a fake tree from the ‘90s that sat in our basement, only to come out for an elaborate assembly ritual each year. Sorting through the 100+ plastic branches took hours, but it was something we were supposed to be grateful for. Just be glad you’re not out in the freezing weather, or trying to haul a fifty-pound tree up onto the roof of the car, my mom would say.
When I moved into a place of my own, though, I decided to put an end to this nonsense. “We’re going to get a real tree this year,” I told my boyfriend, Robert.
We only had a 600-square-foot apartment, but I was determined. We’d get a tiny, skinny little thing to rival Charlie Brown’s if we had to. So one December evening, we went over to the local farm to choose our tree.
I’d never been Christmas tree shopping before. But as soon as we arrived, I knew I’d love it. Precut trees were lined up in rows, each held upright by its own stand, spaced so close on the grass that they formed a dense forest. Edison light bulbs hung overhead, casting a warm golden glow. The weather was weird that evening—unseasonably warm and foggy—and the way the light dispersed through the fog, silhouetting the trees, looked like a shot from a Hallmark movie.
“This is so cool,” I whispered to Robert.
“Have you really never gotten a real tree before?”
“Yup, never. Hey, what’s that?” I asked, pointing to the end of the field.
There was a large plastic roll of something, and standing next to it, a man. He looked very fitting here, with his flannel shirt and lumberjack beard.
“Netting they put on the trees, to keep all the branches in, so you can transport them more easily,” he replied.
“Oooh. Cool.” I took him by the arm. “Let’s go find our tree!”
We started down one of the narrow aisles. The air smelled like pine—like that one candle Mom always burned around Christmastime. Robert tried to match my enthusiasm, but eventually seemed bored, lagging behind me as I ran through the place like an excited little girl.
I finally stopped in front of a particularly beautiful tree. Its branches were thick and lush, and the fragrance of pine was strong, filling my nose. Slowly, I reached out to touch it. The needles were surprisingly soft and pliable under my fingers—nothing like the shiny plastic ones I’d seen all my life.
“Robert, c’mere, I think I found—”
I stopped.
Robert wasn’t behind me.
“Robert?”
I glanced around. But all I saw were the pine trees. Rows and rows of them, like a thick forest all around me. The lightbulbs buzzed above my head, their soft golden glow dispersing in the thick fog.
“Robert? Where are you?”
I hurried down the aisle, needles scraping at my jacket. He couldn’t have gone far. Probably started looking at memes on his phone, and didn’t even notice I was miles ahead of him. “Robert!” I called again.
No answer.
I pulled out my phone and shot off a text. Where are you? When no reply came, I sighed angrily and continued towards the rolly-netty things. Maybe he was waiting for me there.
But my sense of direction must’ve been messed up. Because when I rounded the corner, there were just more trees.
I pulled out my phone to call him—
And that’s when I heard the footsteps.
Oh, thank goodness. I whipped around, trying to pinpoint the source. And then I saw it—a flash of motion between the trees.
It wasn’t Robert.
It was the lumberjack-guy that I’d seen standing next to the netting. He was in the next aisle over. Slowly, methodically walking through the grass. As if looking for something.
Maybe I can ask him if he saw Robert.
I hurried down the aisle until I was several feet behind him, running parallel. I sucked in a breath—
And stopped dead.
Something was swinging from his hand. Something heavy, glinting gold in the lights strung above our heads.
An axe.
I stood frozen, watching him, until he turned the corner and disappeared among the trees. Of course… of course he would have an axe. That’s how they cut down the trees, right? Nevermind that these trees had already been cut down. Maybe he needed to, I dunno, trim them or something. Maybe—
A scream echoed out on the other end of the field.
My heart plummeted. Instinctually, I lurched forward, to run towards the scream, to see if it was Robert—
Except I couldn’t.
I looked down to see that the beltloop of my jeans was snagged on one of the needly branches. Oh, come on. I quickly reached down and unhooked it from my pants.
Then I took off running down the aisle.
But the aisle seemed so much narrower than before. I couldn’t run that fast, with the branches reaching in from both sides, clawing at my legs. A corner lay up ahead and as I came up to it, I prayed I’d see the parking lot at the other end, with Robert waiting for me.
I didn’t.
Ahead of me there were more trees. Like I was stuck in some sort of Christmas tree maze, like they were rearranging themselves to block off all the exits. And the aisle was impossibly narrow now. I had to stop running so that I wouldn’t trip over the branches extending into the path. The progress was slow but I kept going, leaping over branches, needles scratching at my face, snagging on my jacket.
And then I heard a sound.
It was coming off to my right. A sort of rolling sound, like a something round being turned over and over…
I ran over to the impossibly thick tangle of tree branches and peered out. More trees, but beyond them… I could see the checkout station, with the roll of netting for packing the trees.
The lumberjack man was there, packing something.
It wasn’t a tree.
My stomach lurched as I saw what looked like a body being wrapped in white netting. The body of a man, wearing a black jacket and a striped hat…
I pushed myself through the hedge. The branches stabbed at me, scraping so hard against my arms that they drew blood. And then, finally, I popped out on the other side.
If the checkout station was there, I knew the parking lot was to the left. So I kept going, pushing myself through the tangled web of branches, until I was bloody and bruised on the other side.
I locked myself in the car and then I called 911.
***
By the time the police arrived, the man was gone. And Robert. Both had disappeared, and the patch of Christmas trees looked as magical as it did when we arrived.
The police have been searching for Robert for the past five days. Nothing has come up. No evidence, no clues, no body.
I know in my heart that he isn’t with us anymore. His family is still holding onto hope, but I know what happened to him that day. But, sometimes, I wonder if there’s a reason we haven’t found his body yet.
Maybe he was put in that netting for a reason.
Maybe, that farm doesn’t only sell trees.