The Haunted Forest Tour
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Mike Fradella had finished off three beers after work, which didn’t seem like quite enough to make him hallucinate the pine tree growing through his front porch. In the desert town of Cromay, New Mexico, he wouldn’t have expected to see a ten-foot-tall pine tree growing anywhere, much less right next to his porch swing.
He got out of his car and stared at the tree for a long moment. It didn’t go away.
This had to be a prank. Mike was pretty sure none of his buddies had done it, since their style of humor was more the “pull my finger” variety than anything this elaborate. It was also destructive—they hadn’t merely placed the tree on his porch, they’d pried up some of the boards to make it look like the tree had sprouted right through the wood.
Kids, maybe?
They’d never really been a problem before, except for the mouth on Agatha Donald’s son. Mike wouldn’t mind seeing that little brat get his mouth washed out with sandpaper-wrapped soap, that was for sure. But Agatha’s son was only six and unlikely to have engineered this particular project, and an out-of-the-way place like Cromay didn’t see many visitors, especially where Mike lived, five miles out of town and a half-mile from the nearest neighbor. Still, somebody had done it.