Chapter 8 - I couldn't move.My twin stood three steps away.
He looked like me.
But wrong.
His skin was gray.
His eyes were sunken.
Black veins covered his neck.
He smiled.
“You finally remembered.”
“What are you?”
He laughed.
“You.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Mom began crying.
“He was supposed to take your place.”
I turned toward her.
“You knew?”
She nodded.
“When the tree rejected you, it kept him.”
“Why?”
“He was your shadow.”
“My shadow?”
“Every child has one.”
“Not like that.”
“The tree creates them from fear.”
My twin stepped forward.
“She's lying.”
Mom froze.
“She always lies.”
He looked at me.
“Your sister too.”
“Everyone keeps telling me not to trust Silly.”
“Because she started this.”
“What did she do?”
“She opened the door.”
“What door?”
“The one beneath the tree.”
My twin reached into his pocket.
He pulled out the cloth doll.
The same doll Silly had held.
He tore it open.
Inside was a small bundle of hair.
I recognized it.
My mother's.
Then another object fell from inside.
A baby tooth.
My tooth.
I stared.
“How?”
“When we were children, Silly made a collection.”
“Hair.”
“Teeth.”
“Nails.”
“Pieces of you.”
“She needed them for the ritual.”
My heart pounded.
“Where is she?”
“Under the tree.”
“Take me there.”
He smiled.
“You don't want to go.”
“I do.”
“Everyone says that before they disappear.”
Suddenly the house trembled.
Windows shattered.
The walls cracked.
Mom screamed.
The hallway stretched impossibly long.
My twin grabbed my arm.
“Run.”
We rushed toward the back door.
Behind us, hundreds of voices screamed my name.
The house was transforming.
Rooms appeared where there had been walls.
Doors opened by themselves.
People stood inside them.
Children.
Old people.
Strangers.
All watching.
All smiling.
All wearing my face.
We burst outside.
The neighborhood was gone.
The forest had returned.
The tree stood ahead.
But now there was something beneath it.
A staircase.
Stone steps leading downward.
My twin stopped.
“That's where she is.”
“Silly?”
He nodded.
“She's already inside.”
“What happens if we go down?”
“You'll find out why she really brought you here.”
We descended.
The stairs seemed endless.
The temperature dropped.
The walls were covered in names.
Thousands.
Every name scratched into stone.
Then I saw one that stopped me.
My father's name.
Beside it:
Silly's name.
And beneath that:
Mine.
But my name had been crossed out.
I looked at my twin.
“What does that mean?”
He whispered:
“It means someone already chose.”
At the bottom was a door.
A wooden door.
No handle.
My twin placed his palm against it.
The door opened.
Inside was a vast underground chamber.
At the center stood Silly.
She was barefoot.
Her wrists were covered in blood.
Around her were twelve candles.
And in front of her sat an old woman.
My grandmother.
Dead for nine years.
She smiled.
“You came.”
Silly turned.
Her face collapsed with relief.
“You shouldn't have followed me.”
Grandmother stood.
“The final piece has arrived.”
I stared at her.
“Who are you?”
She smiled wider.
“Your grandmother died nine years ago.”
Then she pointed behind me.
“Your brother never died.”
My twin stiffened.
May you like
Grandmother whispered:
“He was born beneath this tree.”
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