As I walked, the road became barren, less and less grass and no flowers, but up ahead I saw first one tree, then several, then more and more. The road led me into a grove of thick trees that looked something like mottled oaks and ashes intermingled with taller firs and pines, sharing the same turf, integrated with one another. At first they provided a pleasant relief from the beating red sun. But as I continued to walk, the boughs of the trees dropped lower and lower, creating a living roof so dark and thick it seemed twilight.

The trees encroached farther and farther into the road, pushing me to the middle. I couldn’t believe this way had been often traveled, for if it had, surely the branches would not be so untamed, jabbing at me as they were. They kept poking my neck and ribs and got caught in my backpack. The trees gathered in so close I felt surrounded by wooded bullies. I considered turning back, but I’d been walking in the trees for a couple of hours. I’d invested too much to go back now.

The farther I walked, the more gnarled the trees became, knotty and twisted and contorted. They seemed to lean toward me in the darkness, poking and prodding. Wild and unruly, with interlacing limbs, the trees ganged up on me, brimming with attitude, as if I had no right to stroll their turf. Something brushed my face, and I hit it with my arm. It bent back and struck me just as I’d struck it. I felt certain something was there, something more than trees, something over them, under them, or perhaps in them. My spine tingled.

I heard something. What? Faint murmurs and taunts and accusations in some foul language? I shuddered. Turning, I saw behind me two eyes in the dark. Animal? No—these were intelligent but lidless eyes, ever-peering, as if waiting to find weakness and exploit it. I wasn’t sure how I knew that, but I picked up my pace.

Twigs like fingers poked at my eyes. I swatted them and cut my hand, feeling blood flow in the darkness. Grit and needles and moss and who knew what else kept crawling down the collar of my shirt and collected on my skin, sticking to the sweat. Suddenly something fell down my collar and moved. I felt things skitter under my shirt, as if little spiders were crawling up and down my spine.

“Get away!” I shouted.

I didn’t dare remove my shirt. I hit myself on the back, flailing my arms wildly. I dropped down on the road and rolled on my back, trying to smash whatever it was. Finally I stopped, embarrassed.