Page 60 of Mated to the Monster Under my Bed
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DANNI
My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was trying to break through my ribs and run away. But I couldn’t waste this opportunity.
This is it, I told myself, trying to get my nerves under control. This is what you came for. You can’t chicken out now, Danni—come on!
The tree’s eyes—if that’s what they were—had gone still, just dark knots in the rough bark. For all I knew, it might not wake again for another century. This was my only shot.
I swallowed hard, reached into my pocket, and pulled out the crumpled piece of paper where I’d scribbled my list earlier. My fingers were shaking so badly the paper made a soft rustling sound, like dry leaves.
“Hi, Mr. Tree,” I said, my voice sounding absurdly loud in the empty, dark woods. “Er, thank you so much for this opportunity.”
I hesitated, wondering if it was, in fact, a “Mr.” Tree. What if I’d just offended some ancient, divine “Mrs.” Tree or, worse, a “They” Tree that didn’t subscribe to binary pronouns?
Then I gave myself a mental shake.
Come on, Danni, you’re overthinking it—just go!
Whatever sex—or non-sex—it was, the tree didn’t answer.
“All right,” I said briskly, because I felt like I had to fill the silence. “I wish for…”
And I began reading from the list, line by line, my voice echoing softly across the clearing. Yarn—hundreds of skeins of it, in every weight and color. Knitting needles of all sizes. Shelving, counters, a cash register, tables, chairs. Some furniture for a cozy corner where customers could sit and sip tea. And lastly—because I figured I might as well shoot my shot—a shiny new espresso machine for the shop.
“And please have it delivered to my cottage on Main Street in Hidden Hollow,” I finished, my voice trembling only slightly. “Thank you so much.”
The tree’s “eyes” flickered open again. They weren’t really eyes, but the movement was unmistakable—those dark knots suddenly had wooden pupils that winked at me. Its gnarled mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, like it was chewing on my words. Then it said, in a deep, gravelly voice that rumbled right through my bones,
“DONE.”
Just like that.
And then the face went slack again. The knots were only knots—the bark was just bark. The tree was just a tree.
I stood there for a long moment, the cold air biting my cheeks, the sound of my pulse loud in my ears.
“Is that it?” I muttered finally. “There’s nothing more to it?”
The silence pressed in on me.
And then a voice—not the tree’s, but something lower, darker—slid out of the shadows like smoke.
“Well,” it purred, “there’s a little more to it.”
I froze. Every hair on my arms and the back of my neck stood up. There was something wrong with that voice—it was evil. I didn’t know how I knew but I did—the thing that had spoken wished me harm. But I didn’t have any idea what or where it was.
“Who’s that?” I demanded, turning in a full circle, my voice sounding more confident than I felt. “Who said that?”
No answer. Just the soft creak of something moving in the air above me.
Another shiver seized me—I didn’t want to look. Every instinct inside me screamed, Don’t look! Don’t you dare look, Danni!
But of course, I did.
The corpse hanging from the branch of the tree had swung around.
Its face was gray and sagging, the eyes dull and sunken—except now they weren’t closed. They were open.
