Of all the times she'd hopped over or crawled under the fence surrounding the huge tree in her favourite museum, she never thought to look up. Every day after school she would cross the road to the museum with her latest book and sit in the hollow at the base of the tree to read. It was half hidden with plastic bushes to make it look more "natural" but it was Her Space and the staff thought it sweet.
She was their bookworm who hid in the weird tree for a couple of hours before her parents would come to bring her home for her dinner. It was routine, it was her safety and her certainty. At least it was until the teacher assigned the class a project to write all about their favourite place to be using the descriptive words they'd studied that lesson.
To keep Her Space secret from her classmates she chose to write about her small rocking chair in her room, thinking it would be easy but her curious nature compelled her to look into the museum's tree and how it got there. The staff didn't know - she'd asked them before, but they did mention a few books that might tell her something.
Of course these books were "for adults" and "too scary for kids" but that kind of warning never stopped anyone, certainly not a nine year old who hadn't been taught any better. The first book they'd said was called "Blood Trees of England: A Species Long Gone" and was full of words she didn't understand but the pictures said more than enough.
Every other page had some kind of diagram on it that reminded her of Her Space and the weirdness of the tree. For example these "blood trees" apparently fed on animals like a venus flytrap did, only with trees they tended to provide a shelter big enough for smaller prey to minimalise any potential struggles. Her Space had always been just the right size for her, just the right warmth too, with the faint smell of sausages that made her feel right at home and welcome.
After luring their prey inside and lulling them to sleep, the "blood trees" would then slowly close up around whatever they'd ensnared, partially crushing the body so as to drain it of all fluids better. The remaining husk would calcify and resemble bark more than bones. She remembered how she'd always thought that Her Space had loads of smiling faces cheering her on when she was reading.
Now, in her mind they were screaming.
She was their bookworm who hid in the weird tree for a couple of hours before her parents would come to bring her home for her dinner. It was routine, it was her safety and her certainty. At least it was until the teacher assigned the class a project to write all about their favourite place to be using the descriptive words they'd studied that lesson.
To keep Her Space secret from her classmates she chose to write about her small rocking chair in her room, thinking it would be easy but her curious nature compelled her to look into the museum's tree and how it got there. The staff didn't know - she'd asked them before, but they did mention a few books that might tell her something.
Of course these books were "for adults" and "too scary for kids" but that kind of warning never stopped anyone, certainly not a nine year old who hadn't been taught any better. The first book they'd said was called "Blood Trees of England: A Species Long Gone" and was full of words she didn't understand but the pictures said more than enough.
Every other page had some kind of diagram on it that reminded her of Her Space and the weirdness of the tree. For example these "blood trees" apparently fed on animals like a venus flytrap did, only with trees they tended to provide a shelter big enough for smaller prey to minimalise any potential struggles. Her Space had always been just the right size for her, just the right warmth too, with the faint smell of sausages that made her feel right at home and welcome.
After luring their prey inside and lulling them to sleep, the "blood trees" would then slowly close up around whatever they'd ensnared, partially crushing the body so as to drain it of all fluids better. The remaining husk would calcify and resemble bark more than bones. She remembered how she'd always thought that Her Space had loads of smiling faces cheering her on when she was reading.
Now, in her mind they were screaming.
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