Here’s the rest of the story as it was to long to make an entire post:

Everything was going great for the first couple of weeks, so much so that I jokingly thought to myself that maybe it had been my calling to live out in the countryside my entire life. But earlier this week, early one evening, I noticed something a little strange as I pulled into my dirt driveway. My usually clear front lawn and the grass beside my house had a surprising number of branches strewn about it. The tree line around my house is a couple of hundred feet away on all sides so even if a wild weather system or wind storm had passed through while I was at work, the branches would have had to be carried hundreds of feet away from the trees that they came off of.

But that wasn't the only thing odd about it; the branches were also specifically only near the outside of the house, not spread across the rest of the property. It almost seemed as if someone had put them around my house intentionally. Though I'm not sure what would possess someone to do such a thing, I picked up a few of them and moved them away from my house. As I picked them up, I grimaced and noticed a black sap-like substance coating the bark and stems. There was a distinct sour smell coming from the branches as well, not something that I was experienced in dealing with as a previous full-time city dweller. I only moved a few of them before giving up and going into the house to wash my hands. I ran the kitchen faucet and scrubbed away the black slime before taking a second to look out of the window above my kitchen sink. I was taken aback for a moment at the beautiful scenery in front of me. Soft yellow sunbeams broke through the branches of the trees at the back of my property, backed by the red and orange sky of a beautiful sunset. For a moment, I forgot all about the weird branches and just took in the beauty of my new home.

When I left for work yesterday, I felt a strange pit form in my stomach as I noticed that not only had the branches that I had moved the day before returned to their positions around my house, but also that there were dozens of new branches mixed amongst them. I rubbed my eyes, wondering if maybe the fog and mountain air might be playing tricks on my barely awake weekday brain, but to no avail. The branches were definitely there again. I tried to rationalize in my head what reason there might be for this occurrence but had to cut it short as I was already running late for work. When I returned that evening, I was greeted by a yard full of branches yet again. It had been a particularly long day at work training the new staff, and my mind and body were exhausted. Without engaging with the branches, I dragged myself inside and began to rummage through my fridge to make myself some dinner.

After setting a container of leftovers on the kitchen counter, I paused, remembering that lovely sunset that I had seen through my window the day before. I smiled to myself and made my way over to the sink to take in the reds and yellows that I enjoyed the previous day, but was puzzled by what I saw. Perhaps it was my eyes playing tricks on me or the work of my imagination, but it seemed to me that the trees were a little closer to my house than they had been before. Not only this, but they were so much closer that I could no longer see the red and orange sky that I had previously enjoyed. The beams no longer peaked through the branches, and instead, the light from the sun was completely blotted out by the thick rustling leaves.

It was at that point that I began to question my own sanity. Had I just imagined the sunset from the day before? were the trees in my backyard actually closer to the back of my house than they had been previously? I had never really walked to the back of my property after moving in.

Had I misremembered how far back the trees were from the back of my house? All of these questions reeled through my head as I tossed my food in the microwave and poured myself a glass of water. I chalked it up to a stressful day and went about the rest of my evening with a creeping feeling in the back of my mind. I called it an early night and crawled into bed shortly after eating dinner. Maybe my head would be clearer in the morning when I woke up.

That brings us to today. I woke up and headed out to my truck to go to work, and my stomach dropped at what I saw. There, in the middle of my front yard, as clear as day, a tree roughly 20 to 30 feet tall and two feet around was standing only a few feet away from my truck.

Now, my mind had betrayed me before, but I'm not crazy enough to forget about a huge tree in the middle of my previously empty front lawn. I approached it slowly, immediately noticing the thin black film along the edges of the bark and the acrid smell that I had encountered once before.

While clearing away the branches, I touched my hand very carefully to the tree, questioning whether or not I was imagining it. I felt the gross, slimy texture beneath my fingertips as I pressed my fingers against it, but more importantly, I could swear I felt something moving slightly, so very slightly. I would have sworn that I could have felt the tree breathing beneath my fingertips. I recoiled and quickly wiped the grime onto my jacket. I panicked and hurried into my truck, contemplating for a moment what I was going to do. What could I do? Call someone? Tell them that a weird, sticky tree appeared in my yard overnight? Of course not. So, I did the only thing I could think of doing. I got in my car and went to work.

I tried to busy myself by throwing myself completely into my job and came home that evening just like everything was normal. A cold shiver ran down my spine as I avoided looking at the new tree in my yard entirely. I paid no mind to the new branches in my yard as well. I kept my eyes forward and went straight into my house. I made my way into the kitchen to retrieve a frozen dinner from the freezer and tossed it into the microwave. I felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of my neck as I contemplated looking out of the window beside me. In the back of my mind, I knew what I would see if I looked out of that window. Dread filled my insides at the thought of facing the kitchen sink and seeing hundreds of trees much closer than they had been before. So, I didn't look. I kept my eyes focused on the microwave in front of me.

When the timer of the microwave beeped, I removed my food, grabbed my knife and fork, and bee-lined it straight upstairs to eat it in the comfort of my bed. After wolfing down the subpar frozen meal, I tossed the plastic dish onto the nightstand and turned out the light to go to bed.

Sleepless hours have now gone by, and I find myself lying here, paralyzed with fear, watching the shadows and listening to the sounds of multiple branches tapping against my window, echoing in my bedroom.