There were images, hundreds: people sleeping while tree shapes lurked in the shadows. A woman washing dishes while a vine crept through a window, a dead cat surrounded by bloody sticks. Had the Internet always been like this? He’d visited PornHub a few times, but this was like wandering into a swamp, being mesmerized by strange creatures which also probably wanted to kill him.
He looked back at the photos. The boys played video games, but branch-shaped shadows filled the doorway, green eyes glowed in the back of the room. Behind the plastic ears of the donkey mask, a weathered tree stood at the window, its mouth gaping with sinister teeth. In the lasagna image, vines crept under the table, furling around legs and shoes, slithering toward the cat, whose tail was slightly puffed.
“Here’s my collection of Forestswarm photos,” DankPurple had written. “This is some freaky shit.”
William clicked the link and was taken to more images, all seemingly normal at first: birthday parties, prom photos, family portraits. In the background, something was always wrong: branches and vines, toothy treelike creatures, knotty limbs creeping through windows.
“An urban legend,” beefytaco wrote. “A bunch of photoshopping.”
“Maybe,” DankPurple replied. “But there are so many.”
William turned off the computer, which immediately turned itself on again. Then he wrapped himself in a blanket that smelled like the old house and slept on the couch that had once stood in the rec room. If a tree came through the roof, it would have to fall a long way to impale him.
It was his weekend, so the girls returned at ten. Sara was catering and couldn’t stay.
“I’ll be back in the evening,” she said. “Your top priority is to buy beds. Some people have lives beyond chauffeuring their nieces around all weekend.”
Celia looked stricken. “Maybe we could pay Aunt Sara?”
“I don’t really mind, sugar.” Sara kissed her head. “Just giving your dad a hard time.”
“He and Mom could stop being babies,” Hannah said. She had homework, lots of homework, some blog posts to write. She lugged books from the van, all about viruses and bacteria.
“Wash your hands,” Hannah said when he started to make pancakes. “We all need to wash our hands.”
He thought he did a good job of making pancakes, even with the weird stove and the crappy set of pans. The refrigerator rattled like a chainsaw, but the landlord wasn’t returning his calls. He had a thing for the refrigerator, like it was an heirloom.
The girls poked at their plates, but they were pretending.
“Tobias made cinnamon rolls,” Hannah said finally.
“They were supposed to be for Mom, but she shared,” Celia said.
William hated the sound of the word “Tobias.” It sounded like a character in a fantasy novel, someone blond and tall and strict about rules. He would not be the person you wanted on your quest. He would be the person you left in the garrison to catalogue the loot. He would skim off the top, too. People like that existed beyond codes of ethics, believed their own morals infinitely superior.
“Actually, he has black hair,” Hannah said, putting down her fork. “But he shaves his head because he’s balding.”
“Do I exist beyond codes of ethics?” Celia asked.
“If someone offered you a cinnamon roll, wouldn’t you eat it?” Hannah opened The Field Guide to Cocci and Bacilli.
William cleared the dishes and went with Celia to the mattress store. The single mattresses all stood in a row. The clerk had to pull them down one at a time. William and Celia evaluated the various consistencies of foam, considered the mattress store ceiling, which was white and speckled.
“Can you deliver any of these today?” William asked.
“The high-end models,” the clerk said. “Those can be delivered at any time.”